Spoken word

I shall guard your heart if you will guard mine
Lovers moving to rhythm yet heard
The Symphony tunes
amid clatters and whispers

I shall guard your heart if you will guard mine
The silence is fallen
The hush has begun
The soft roll of drums

I shall guard your heart if you will guard mine
The first sound of strings
Then, the wind sings
Underneath the drums still roll

I shall guard your heart if you will guard mine
The brass sings clear, it’s clarion call
Each calling to each

The drums still roll
Still roll
Still roll

.. Silence


What am I here in shatters and bows
Run rampant down the jungles edge
Give voice to the dappled fog
And mists reception.
Drink down your sound and heat
Hesitate at softest touch
Lose courage in the minutes
Mind turned round n round
Caught in the maelstrom of ends beginning
Desires war in attrition
A past familiar comfort stands facing grandiose romantic heart.
Paths trod before speak solace and home
But hopes true glimmer beckons me on.

Further thoughts on self

I’m unsure, unsettled.
I’m not sure that this level of openness is something I enjoy. I’ve always hidden pieces of myself away. Kept them away from the people in my life. Moreover, I’ve drawn strength from secrets.

Since people are only privy to the bits that I dole out. I can say that it doesn’t matter what is going down, in this aspect of self, I am ascendant. I have a 160 IQ. I’m a priest. Or other things. Secrets have become my refuge. Splintered right up against a belief in truth.

Maybe it’s insecurity. I often feel like a fraud. Like I’m pulling the wool over the eyes of people I like and/or love. Perhaps at the heart of the problem is this.
While I like people and can accept friendship, I cannot conceive of a person who knowing everything that I am, everything that I have done or desire to do would still want that friendship, that relationship.
I cannot conceive of a person who would want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.

And if they did, why. What horrible secret of their own drives them to my company.
It is a startlingly level of self doubt slinking beneath the surface of my normal confidence that borders on arrogance.

Taking a pause from storytime

So I tell people that the Winter solstice is a time of mourning.  And since these people generally know that I’m a pagan and that I specifically worship a God of Winter, this puzzles them.  “Isn’t the Winter solstice the beginning of winter?” It is, that is correct. So why am I in mourning,  shouldn’t this be a time of joyous exaltation. Yes and no. At the summer solstice, it is the beginning of Summer, but it also signifies the time at which summer will be at it’s most powerful;  Winter will only gain power from there. So this time, where winter gains power and summer loses power is a time of joy,  at the autumnal equinox Summer and winter is in balance,  from here Winter will only gain more and more ascendance. From the Time of the Winter solstice, while winter is at it’s most powerful,  it’s power is bleeding away.  So Summer Solstice is a time of exaltation as winter gains ascendance in the world; And Winter solstice is a time of mourning,  For from there winter can only fade.

Thoughts on My Self

I say adios or farewell or, if leaving for a long time or permanently, I say Walk in beauty

I prefer flowery romantic language to plain words; Your eyes shine like the heavens rather than your eyes are pretty; I’m not setting you on a pedestal.

I believe that each word has a emotional and logical spin to it. Using the correct words in the correct sequence has a beauty all it’s own.

I’m in love with beauty;  which is not to say pretty things or some ideal but someone or something that can effect me emotionally;  anything that does i consider beautiful;

I fall in love quickly, because I see the flaws and strained lines in each person I choose to associate with and those are beautiful;

I care deeply and quickly.  I don’t expect those feelings to be returned;
I just hope that it does not push people away or scare them

I am 100% capable of letting those people exit my life; I won’t stop caring because they do. Unless they betrayed me, but that is a whole other thing.

I read genre fiction and various non-fiction, about a book a week on average; so called  literature leaves me cold;

My taste in music is wide and far reaching;  Instrumentation only pieces (classical, new age, metal, etc), Full Band, Singer/songwriter;  I prefer that you write your own lyrics if not music;  And if you have lyrics then I want to be able to understand them (as in hear them over the music) ;  if I can’t, your instrumentation better be unfuckingbelivable or I’m out;

If you can and do, give and receive, sober consent then have at it, may it bring you joy.

I prefer the truth if the answer is personal and interesting if the answer is not; Is it likely that gnomes are stealing my socks?  No, but its more interesting that noting that the missing sock is inside a pair of pants that I have not worn in awhile; So I’ll go with that; Espousing an interesting lie as fact is not the same as believing it to be fact though I do believe in some pretty bizarre things;  may be safer to just ask for clarification.

I prefer dark clothing. I don’t wear jewelry because I’m allergic to most metal, yes even hypoallergenic titanium; I have fashion sense but I don’t really use it on myself;

I see the physical body as a tool to be used,  not a thing to be worshiped;  though I have worshiped a persons desires  and pleasures through the medium of their body.  I find pleasure in their pleasure, within limits. Though admittedly my limits are probably not the norm for most societies. Though, I imagine, some societies would find my limits confining; I am not always successful in this regard.

I write this to try to understand who I am. I post it to make sure it’s honest. It is a reminder of who I am in my better moments. As this calm, cool me slides, inexorably, into depression.

Cubicle 4

He is waiting in the parking lot, in the fading light of the dying sun. The soft light bouncing off his black silk hair. He leans against the hood of a late model Mercedes. Dressed in a soft gray linen shirt and black slacks, standing like time has no meaning. The light of the world bending in towards him. A gravity well from which escape is impossible.

Embracing his pull, I stalk towards Michael. Hips swaying, one foot in front of the other, I sinously move towards him. I stop two feet away, not quite in reach.

“I’ll be honest. I came here to see you. I have no real desire to hang out with anyone else tonight,” I state, having finally found my courage.

That’s good,” he replied, “I didn’t invite anyone else.”

I felt something deep in me tighten. A lust like I have seldom known washed away all reason. I stepped in to him.
Arms encircling his body, one hand pressing into his back and the other drifting down to cup the velvet muscle of his ass. Looking into his eyes, I kissed him. His lips soft and agile under my own. His tongue flits into my opened mouth, caressing my tongue. Making promises I dared not hope for.

Reluctantly, I pull back. Still breathing with Michaels breathe, I whisper “Your place?”


You get used to living with the fears, the heartaches, the regrets. They become such a part of you that you don’t notice them. You’re Drowning. But in such tiny increments that it feels like breathing.

You become numb to it.

I’ve shed most of my fears. But the heartaches, the regrets, keep piling up.
I have never handled rejection, even mild rejection, well. I have emotional armor, sure. But to form any kind of real connection you must allow a way through. I’ve been cut so much in the last six months. I didn’t realize. It felt like breathing.

I can feel the darkness closing in. I can feel the numbness creeping up. Soon, I will face a choice. To fight in the darkness, alone. Or to wall it off.

I have found my fear.

I’m an idiot

Friends, oh friends, let’s be friends
Sounds good, seems fine
But friends, oh friends
You start it in honesty.
Friends, good friends
Secrets and miseries
time passes
Friends, just friends
Each day a cut
Tiny, infinitesimal
You don’t notice as your lungs fill up with blood.
Friends, oh friends, let’s be friends
It’s anguish and agony
I draw the poison out until you’re free
While I languish in a prison of my own design
Friends, only friends
I desire more of you
So I might foolishly walk that path,
Your earnest eyes still burn me
Asking questions
I don’t need the excuse.
I’d talk for days just to see your eyes on mine.
To hear your soft replies.
Only friends, just friends