Category: Poetry

A collection of poems about love, life and sex.

The best things in life are a secret…

As I stand at the crossroad, between truth and mystery,

I am paralysed by the shortcomings of history,

Rejections of the past rip out my tongue,

I cannot speak, though he is most deserving.

And yes, the inner conflict between heart and mind

is most unnerving.

As humans,

We make predictions,

based on our past,

But surely there can be contradictions?

Tantalising exceptions to oppressive rules

that make us abandon dignity at last…

turning us into careless fools.

Last night I dreamt of a funeral procession.

It marched solemnly towards me,

with pomp and ceremony.

I tried to escape. Was it repression?

But each time I endeavoured to squeeze my body

through the stately pillars,

the works and infrastructure of men suffocated me.

Azulejos, they tell a story,

it reminds me of Porto,

of that kiss that stilled time

as we said goodbye

in São Bento Station.

I wonder whatever became of him,

the night rogue,

the brown eyes,

the lover.

Was he married? I wonder.

Men and their secrets…

So much to ponder.

Some parts of history

are more romantic

when shrouded in mystery.

Why now? Why him? Why me?

You were always there, albeit fleeting,

for three long years, you came and went from my line of vision.

So why now? Why him? Why me? What am I repeating?

Do the patterns in my life need serious revision?

I remember November,

nerves in a new city,

locked down in surrender,

refusing everyone’s pity.

In the fight for survival,

I did not pay attention.

I wage silent battles within my soul,

which has long been a black hole

where dreams of vulnerability go to die

too tired to fight, to try,

That is,

Until I dreamed of him.

Broken, before he has even held my heart,

I silently fall apart,

Tears fill the deep blue sea

Why him? Why now? Why me?

Starvation…

A dumb-ass horse to poisonous waters,

is what I am…

With a desire that never falters,

giving way too much of a damn.

Famine,

Examine,

my shrinking flesh,

my brittle old bones,

And you, always cool and fresh

playfully throw stones.

You have no idea, not a clue

About the great big iceberg

that lurks beneath these depths so blue.

He teases, he cuts with his words

the very heart of me.

Hungry…

I want his undivided attention,

But I have no right to hope

For his affection,

And yet, I tighten the rope

with false hope and expectation.

I want more words

as is custom to our conversations…

I want him, all of him, but it’s too much,

for I have no claim to his touch.

Starvation,

for salvation,

that will never come.

-Sorting through some feelings…

Does love strip us of free will?

In spite of her better judgement,

She could not help surrendering to the allure of his words.

So aloof she seemed; hiding fantasies so self indulgent

Unwilling and unable to move forward.

His face.

His square jaw.

His hair.

She dreams of ripped lace,

Raw,

Without a care.

Tears have been shed,

Blood has been bled,

But she won’t dare wish…

For the torture to end.

Because if nothing else…

It is romantic.

Cinematic.

Tragic.

Lost in the adventure

Of his wild and cryptic mind

She left her soul behind,

Burning her body in rapture.

God, forgive me,

For I know that what I desire

Is forbidden.

Naked, defenceless,

A fool, lost and alone.

Shockwaves, relentless,

No one to call her own

Still, she clings to broken dreams,

Until her dying day, her last breath,

It seems.

Love, it makes us mad with hope

Crushed,

mercilessly,

by reality.

In spite of knowing better,

We choose pain,

With nothing to gain.

– Does love strip us of free will?

After-thoughts…

Is there such a thing as free will when it comes to love?

Yes, we can channel our love however we choose,

But the feeling itself, does not simply vanish by choice.

It persists, enslaving us, despite our best efforts to be free.

This, to me, challenges the the very notion of free will in all matters concerning love.

When the Unconscious becomes Conscious…

The Faceless guitar player…

The soldier,

The servant,

The mountain.

He emerged from my unconscious,

As a god of the Atlantic Sea.

The dark prince, a hero, and a monster…

I wonder if he will forever remain locked in consciousness.

His bravery ignites a fire within me.

I want him, yet he remains beyond reach

Someone to teach…

Everything I cannot see.

Somehow I always knew

I deeply desired you.

Asleep, a princess awaits…

a prince who will only dance before her,

Provoking desire, opening hell’s gates…

Tantalising lust, yet never daring to kiss her.

He is a mystery,

Yet somehow, also a tree of knowledge.

An enigma of unknown and captivating history,

Whose presence, I consider a tremendous privilege.

The hermit, he is a silent inquisitor,

Wandering and questioning, yet seldom speaking,

A thoughtful investigator

Always seeking.

The heartburn of a hedonist

bloody hands

In a world of wide open spaces,

And boundless freedom,

I am enslaved to foolish fantasies

Swimming in red wine

Trapped in a bottle.

 

A hedonist and a rebel,

My hair knows no authority,

Entangled in the fingers

Of a thousand lovers,

Invading bars and motel rooms,

Dancing wildly in the streets for thrills…

 

Yet all I long for,

Is to find sanctuary

In you.

 

The artist in me loves the architecture,

The political activist in me despises the oppression

Through which, such splendor was created

Built brick by brick

Upon glistening backs,

Marked with red stripes

Broken.

 

Isn’t it funny,

How we all get off

To the sting of whips,

And the confines of chains.

 

Acid churns in my belly,

My racing heart bleeds fire,

My hands are stained

I am guilty

Of selfish whims

And destructive indulgences

Notice me,

Love me…

Lest I hold entire cities hostage.

 

Give me your eyes,

A gateway to the secret garden

Of your mind

Where I may plant visual memories

Burning with an eternal flame

Taunting you,

With recurring persistence,

To madness.

 

Give me your lips,

So that I may forever wear them around my neck,

And savor the warmth of your breath,

As I drown in all your kisses…

Laced with betrayal.

 

Tragically,

History with you will never be made,

Even though it feels like I have loved you

With all the love,

Of a thousand lifetimes.

– The day Notre Dame burned

Sessions of intimacy

I always knew you were watching me,

And that I had begun to raise the tides

Of your intoxicating blood

Coursing

Pulsating

Through every organ

In your body.

Yours is an invasion

To which I respond

By spreading open the floodgates

To the haunting cry

Of my insatiable desire.

Release.

I never expected the truth to manifest so intensely,

So passionately…

With my fingers sliding beneath

The red lace of my knickers…

They say I’m too young to love you…

I guess it’s a good job,

That I don’t love you.

It’s more than that…

It is the very law of nature.

“How many orgasms have you had today?”

He asks…

“Three so far,

But the sight of your ecstasy

Will induce many, many more…”

“I want to taste you.

I want to taste myself,

On your lips.”

The Aphrodisiac of Infidelity

To be honest…

You arouse me

Immensely.

But you have made yourself

The guarded property

Of someone else,

And I am trying

As hard as the parts of your body

To be a good girl

For a change.

– The words that launched a thousand illicit ejaculations

What drives us to caution those who want us, but are prohibited from having us?

Is it an act of moral conscience, or manipulation motivated by lust?

We all want to be exempt from accountability…

Try as I might to live by a strict code of consideration for the deluded souls who enter relationships believing in a happily ever after whereby their partners fuck them and only them for all eternity, experience has taught me that infidelity is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

I remember, his hand on my knee as he whispered a bitter protest in my ear. Earnestly, he insisted that in another life he would have pushed me up against walls and induced tremors through the earth of my flesh by way of his tongue slicing through the jungle…

Making me sing symphonies, loud and fierce, past the point of no return.

“No, I’m not a home-wrecker.” – The biggest lie I ever told. Subconsciously, I always knew this to be true…even as I begged him not to touch me.

This is where lines begin to blur, for what is the point of consent when we are forced to belong to someone else by the union of ‘true love’?

I am no longer ashamed of the supposed sins I commit, nor will I deny myself pleasure.

Life is too short to regret our indulgences.

PS. And I think secretly, we all get off to the idea of a really magnetic soul leaving their significant other (even if just for a moment) to hungrily devour us inch by inch, top to bottom.

Sex Stories

I have so many sex stories.

I have fucked a mechanical bull once,

No really, he was a Taurus,

An algorithm,

Operating on the data

Of far too many porn films.

 

I’ve had hate sex,

Those sessions are always fun.

A perfect storm of strangling, choking,

Biting, clawing at lightening bolts,

Of revenge,

Entangling

In ecstasy.

 

I have made a man whimper,

The star was born…

Announcing his arrival

In 3, 2, 1 format…

Exploding all over the stage

In clumsy abandon.

 

There was passion in Porto.

I’m sorry Paris,

Maybe someday,

I will set your streets ablaze

Allow roots to grow in my heart.

But the volcano erupted,

Elegantly,

In Porto.

 

Oh how we fucked

Dancing, intertwining

Watching our bodies burn,

From our reflection in the mirror,

Kissing every inch of my flesh,

Worshipping me.

 

I am writing a book. I cannot promise it will be completed in a year, or even a lifetime. That being said, I am baked, and I am shooting to profit from the universe of my infinite imagination.

Not to mention, I think society could benefit from these tales of vulnerability and desire. I have learned so much from my encounters, and being in the presence of naked women and men. The human nature is as evil as it is ridiculous, and one can act wisely with resilience to withstand the consequences of their own honesty, both with themselves and those around them. Others foolishly bulldoze their way to the destruction of the planet, and all living beings.

I am so fortunate. So very, very blessed to have acquired this insight into the psychological makeup of humans in their most raw and honest form.

To be continued, maybe…

Reborn

I have been with you

Through the snow,

Through the great depression,

Through the isolation

Of the soul.

 

You have been reborn,

And I with you.

We are consumating our love,

Once again…

The sun against my flesh,

Mounting your peaks,

Digging my fingers into your soil.

We are of the same spirit

You and I.

 

Spring has sprung.

There is a tree growing inside me,

Cherry blossoms blooming.

You planted your seeds in me.

I am growing.