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
while
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

Vexation

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

Friday, April 06, 2007

punished


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
when
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.

RuKsaK

Saturday, March 31, 2007

hailstone tea

hailstone tea
a patch of purple crocus
by the ninth green

.

Monday, March 26, 2007

Monday, March 19, 2007

judy blue eyes

there was a time when judy didn't dribble.
a time when her eloquent voice echoed the sharp flourishes of her mind.
slow now. so slow now.
the ticking of the clock measures the dreadful daylight hours with clipped phrases. a pendulum that travels one way.
the wrong way.
she can't remember raindrops, nor the brittle light of early spring sun with its watery kiss floating in the sky like a promise.
hot days ahead. summer shine.
she cannot use the simplest of utensils not even a spoon. and that is all they feed you with in here, plastic spoons. you see you can't slit your wrist with a plastic spoon and you cannot penetrate your chest. you can gouge out your eyes though. just ask henry.
old henry.
blind henry.
he knows how to use a plastic spoon does henry.
there was a time when judy didn't cry all the time. a time when her laughter ran like the sense of water running. powerful and strong from the tributary of her heart to the ocean of her soul. no more laughter now though. just pebble stone cold tears.
'she doesn't know anything poor love'
'nothing?'
'no, not a thing. her mind is a total blank'

how come she weeps then?

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Saturday, March 17, 2007

My Country Tis of Thee

 



Sometimes I don't know what it means to be an American. Then I look out the car window, and all is revealed. God save us from our bloody hands.
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Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Multiplicity

I am a father of two.
I am a daddy to one.
I am a caregiver at work.
I am the lover to her.
I am a husband till death.
I am compassion's embrace.
I am a friendly face.
I am empathic by design.
I am a predator of the weak.
I am a monster in the ring.
I am a sociopath for defense.
I am acutely attuned.
I am ignorant.
I am arrogant.
I am the silent enemy.
I am a god among men.
Be wary of my presence.
I can't control some of them.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

burning


a fiery obsession that'll burn a civilization

Friday, March 09, 2007

Backdoors

Chrome vessels maul her thighs. In jaundiced clucks and and serrated stabs. Perforated breaths torn out of her chest. Hollowing covers. Shivering spirals echo the rape of her absense. Dead clouds in a dead sky. Crying tears already wept so often.

The vacuum of her cunt devours him. In monstrous heaves she chokes him all the way inside. Until there's nothing left to swallow except the slit of moonlight that decides the difference between them. The comma in every sigh that comes after this.

Insinuations scattered like dog shit. Willing us to step in them. His touch like cum on her face. Only serving to make her a victim.

He never loved her until she cried for him.

But by then it was too late.