The Altar of BodiesThe Altar of BodiesMore Like This
The subtle, soft and whisper-sweet--
our touch and kiss burning through.
Where lips and skin in unity meet,
we claim the rewards long overdue.
Time itself slows its march unending;
the world melts away in passion's flood.
Limbs and mouths, twisting, blending:
the symphony of flesh, bone and blood.
Adrift, and lost, in the scent of skin;
tangled and trapped in a sea of lust:
The lure of our divine and earthly sin,
to one another's embrace we entrust.
The imagined glare of the pale moonlight,
the caress of the nightmare's naked form.
Oh, what a vision we've become this night:
The sighing gallows of our passions' storm.
In the bleaker silence, the void profound,
our bodies lay merging and uniting as one.
In the bleaker silence, our ecstasies resound;
the walls between us, fall, becoming undone.
The Harrowed MazeThe Harrowed MazeMore Like This
In this maze, the darkened walk . . .
Under the cold stare of the moon . . .
In profound silence, the silent talk . . .
Where no word will be spoken soon . . .
Her steps are sure, a steady gaze . . .
His hand outstretched in dire yearing . . .
In her heart the fires of freedom blaze . . .
In his, the flames of possession burning . . .
These wicked cycles of needs and wants . . .
These selfish obsessions of unending desire . . .
These lures of the most irresistable taunts . . .
These phantoms that they must each acquire . . .
He reaches for her in avarice's greedy embrace . . .
Beckoning, his body lithe in moonlight's shine . . .
It is his quest to possess the soul of her face . . .
That on the fare of his jealousy she may dine . . .
But blessed of her own destiny's allure . . .
She traverses the shadowed maze alone . . .
Journey, though uncertain, her steps are sure . . .
Certain that her future's destiny has grown . . .
The night still blankets the harrowed
Runaway AngelDo you see her? The Runaway Angel?More Like This
She's fleeing her life, her hair fanning
out behind her
like brown feathered wings.
Glancing over her shoulder in fear,
Green backpack bumping against her,
Red Converse high tops flying,
Over dirty city streets,
Her angel wings fluttering.
Tears come silently like rain
Falling from the heavens above.
Cold, filthy, starving, terrified, and bruised,
Lonley, broken, exhausted, hurt, and confused.