He is the feel of a brown suede boot
laced up with folk songs and wine.
He holds all my laughter in little jars of pickled time.
His voice is the harbour where I moor my boat,
where footprints fan out in grains of sand.
All tagged modern poetry
Passion cuts things to pieces
Passion cuts things to pieces
like a shard of broken mirror
that warps a once soft reflection
into jagged shreds of light and skin.
Feel the hot flesh pulse
and flinch in momentary madness.
This transient touch
melts dignity like wax
and bleeds out restlessly
like a beacon of sordid wants.
Bite the lip of sensuality
and bury the questioning mind
under grappled skin and wet hopes
of subdued loneliness.
Tiredness is something worn on the head
Tiredness is something worn on the head,
the never-ending wrap
of selfish fog,
it renders you blind,
hangs, with limp hostility around the brain,
dampens the synapses,
mutes the mind.
Peppercorns
Has your tender soul
ever been crushed
like a peppercorn
in a pestle and mortar?
Well let me tell you,
a pinch of you
can ignite fires
on the wettest of tongues.