Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Monday, April 30, 2007

Gabriel's Bane

A god won't do it,
but we in mortal guise
embrace the hurts taken and given without thought.
You decay in my mind,
a stray cat trapped in a sealed wall of bricks.
Your inconsistencies aren't poetic.
You've killed me inside.
My begging heart tries to say
yes- come hither, my love.
Take my soul into your calloused palms.
Let's ride, cowboy.
I can't lose you again.
Baby, I'm dead to the world.
Curled in your arms, I live again.

Sunday, April 29, 2007

I love U

A loves B,
B loves Me,
I love U
U love C,
C loves D..

But, if B takes A,
and D takes C,
would U take Me?

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Your Kiss...

your kiss is still melting in my mouth…
like tender cherries soaked
in the sweetest of wines, and
undoing themselves, opening up slowly,
ever so slowly -
enticing the taste buds
teasing them,
playing with them now, you see!
ah, the sweet anguish
of the aftertaste that aches
to taste you…feel you…yet again

your kiss is still melting in my mouth
and melting me within -
wish you would gather me
and sprinkle your dew drops all over
your kiss is still melting in my mouth…


Monday, April 16, 2007

sinner (for susan)

i was a sinner
a sinner was i
for i didn't know reason
from madness in the sky,
i wielded a cleaver
with a bloody resolve
mutilating females whose
bodies i dissolved
in a bath of acid
hidden deep in the woods,
my sanctum sanctorum
where i did no good.
i used my cleaver
and a rusty old saw
to cut through the gristle
the hip bone and the jaw
of women of beauty,
be they blonde or brunette,
who i woed with my charm
and my blue corvette
that i drove for hours
through the swamp and the glade
avoiding all sunlight,
feeling safe in the shade.
i lived off of road kill
or wildlife that i shot
cooking their remains
in an old tin pot
that i heated by a fire
that i built beneath a tree
seasoned by the blood
of jane, sue and marie.
i'd slice up their livers
and chop up their hearts,
cooking their uterus,
chewing their private parts
for in truth there is nothing
that tastes so sweet
as the cooked flesh of women
and ladies of the street.
i was a sinner
and a sinner still am
so take care in the woods
of the old woods man.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Monday, April 09, 2007


Death does not frighten me. It is the thought that I might not be living that vexes my soul.

Friday, April 06, 2007


religion women iconography s&m

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Little Lambs Not Lost

tacit pneumonias of orgasm
split her down the ribs

she is gutted like
the so many fish
he's caught before her

suffocated on the very
same air that lets him live.

i say tacit because
hurt is the shiest
of all the torments

and pneumonia because
there is no cure
but sometimes there's recovery

mary mary, what say you now
of the sheep you've lost?

flshbacks (iii)

the zephyr derails
as my thoughts avail
the rich indulgence
of your kiss
as it carries the song
i know i'll miss
as you whisper
the tune
around my hair
and all i want
is to fast forward
the memories
to a moment in time
the breeze
the breath
weren't mingled
in an obtuse fallacy

Monday, April 02, 2007

I am my past

I am made of my past. Everything in my past was built for the future. I don't know what to do now.