A Man’s Respect and Admiration

9

I admire the muscles of your arms and the flatness of your stomach
I respect the softness and length of your neck and your legs
I have nothing but respect and admiration for you and your eyes
the bridge of your nose, and cheek-bones
your lips and the metal stud you sport with such class

I would respect you in the morning
In the cold light of tomorrow
with tonight’s make-up faded and smudged
I would admire you as you waited for the bus home
With your panties crumpled and soiled and crammed in your pocket

derrek-gores-recycled-magazines-collage-art-1_2th8t_11446There might be shame creeping at the corners of your face

But don’t let it take you over

You are nothing but beauty and desire

And I have nothing but respect and admiration for you

Even as I came into your mouth

BSB

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Princess of the Wastelands

I can hear her now
from across the room:

the princess, with doe eyes

she believes she lives here
this is her living room,
and these are her people

a party
her party, perhaps
and she’s doing her duty, entertaining guests

until the music dies

and the curtain falls

BSB

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When death lurks on your morning stroll

baked by the fresh, morning sun
the streets reek of boredom, panic, and piss
decide to practice increased tactility

practice keeping my head from bowing to track my shoes
practice my breathing
practice regulating judgmental tendencies

achieve temporary reprieve
enjoy a brief taste of peace
until I remember that there is horror

horror and death, that floats above us all
ready to set upon us at will and whim
there is danger, and blindness, and strokes, and insanity, and…

and then, I remember women
I remember sex with a woman
feel myself growing lighter, in shade and weight

feel myself getting hard
and suddenly
I’m not thinking about dying, anymore

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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

Flowers

The boy picks flowers from the edges of the long country driveway that leads from the main road where he catches his bus every morning to the house where he was born. He brings the small bouquet to the vegetable garden next to the house where his mother is pulling up carrots and dropping them into a plastic ice cream bucket. She pushes the Tilly hat up on her sweat-dappled forehead as he holds the flowers out to her. She smiles a glowing mother’s smile and takes the flowers in her green and pink gardening gloves stained with dark, fertile earth. Continue reading