liberate your sin

Fair figure wrapped in veil of fragile skin
Soft visage kept in shade from ray of sun
The posture of your legs moan, “Come on in”
Meanwhile, your rolling eyes do much to shun

For men of flesh and blood and not of tin
Can forage far and wide intent on fun
But only when she liberates her sin
May that intrepid gent boast battle won

The maiden fair may not be quick to lay
On quilted bed or plot of grassy ground
She may not rush to cast off virgin’s mask

Unless she knows a man is there to stay
Until she’s sure a husband’s what she’s found
On that day, all he need to do is ask

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bravery falls in the dead of night

When silent lay the caterwauls and wails
and deathly faint drop foot-falls ‘cross the floor
our hero dwells on all that quest entails
and once again he contemplates the door.

The lock secure, the wood and screws and nails,
could they withstand a battle-axe, or more?
Could they hold up when enemies assail?
The thoughts of dread he cannot help explore

The pondering which daily makes him strong,
the fear which powers blood through heart and veins,
when twilight falls upon with heavy clout
all courage sung about in epic song
is gone away as light from day-time wanes
and hero’s mask of courage is cast out.

when she says she loves me

he says he loves her
and I ask again about her website
it’s just a way to make money, he says
it’s nothing
she’s smart – a business woman
a genius
her own boss

he says they’re going to get married on a beach
and run barefoot into the surf afterward
she’s the only one for him, he says

I ask again if he is sure
considering… you know… her

he says he knows how it looks
everyone’s been asking him the same thing
telling him to be careful
to watch out
she’ll break your heart, they keep saying

he drives on for a while, not talking
watching the yellow line in the road ahead

he says, the only way I can explain it
is in the words of a song:

“if you could only see the way
she loves me
then maybe you would understand
why I feel this way about
our love and what I must do”

I knew the song
it was big in the nineties
I couldn’t remember the name of the band
I still can’t

I joined in and sang along with him
as he drove

“if you could only see how blue
her eyes can be when she says
when she says she loves me”

she didn’t break his heart, in the end
not really, anyway

night of the fighter

sweat stains the floor as blows on body land
the howl from ravaged throat of watching fan
electric neon suns glow from their stands
and cast a mighty shadow of this man
who with a heart of iron’s steely hand
with feared renown that cross the county spans
whose stature proud and noble, fierce and grand
is honour-bound to represent his clan
this beastly carnivore of lethal means
his tears they trickle quick as en’my’s blood
and homeward headed with tail tucked in fright
he takes to darkened succour from this scene
away from sound of screams and touch of mud
and prays for comfort sought at end of night

Amethyst in the House of the Sons of Erick

I don’t recall exactly what reason brought me to Roland’s house that day in the fall of my nineteenth year. More than likely I was meeting up with his sons so that we could set off on some type of mission of fun and mischief. Roland had raised three sons, and the eldest two were young men whom I happily called friends. The youngest was in the process of reaching an age I could tolerate and was showing signs of becoming just as fair and likeable a man as his siblings. Continue reading

Lester’s lot

the ballad of Lester Littlefield
wide-eyed night bellman is alive and thriving
the smell of parkade concrete
in warm and heavy summer night air
the soft thrum of adult alternative echoing
through the cavernous surfaces
of a hotel lobby
curling dumbbells in the long shadows
of an abandoned fitness centre
doing laps in an empty pool or soaking
in a hot tub under the lights of
office towers beyond a sky light