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Vibrant Red and Gorgeous

When the words ‘I love you’
are announced from between those lips
of yours, so vibrant red and gorgeous,
dripping with untamed passion,
I realize all the beauty in the universe
exists only at your feet, and where you stand
is the origin of much gracefulness,
which I long to travel through.

There is little left in me
to fend against the attractive qualities
of your physique and mind,
your personality, wit and charm,
being aspects of your eternal beauty
I long to hold within these arms of mine,
whilst I run my fingers through your hair.

Your voice makes love to mine,
exposing my weaknesses
every moment in which we meet,
my selfish desire to have you all to myself
being revealed so easily,
I cannot help but fault my heart
for falling so unconditionally for you.

I am no liar in love,
as I lie semi-conscious
in the endless field of desire,
bleeding on the bladed petals
of the many roses I longed to secure
for you alone. I am tempted by no other
in the harsh existence of romance,
waiting on your call like a meth addict,
awaiting his next fix.

I secretly cry when experiencing evenings alone,
needing, rather than wanting,
to have your body pressed against my own,
the lack of caution presented to me
in my younger years, scaffolding the courageous lust
I produce daily, like sweat, eagerly anticipating,
with anxiety strained limbs, the moment
I meet your Heavenly gaze once more.

With your bosom, pressed agaisnt my own,
the breath billowing through your lungs
existing similarly to mine, as we lie upon my mattress,
seething after hours of enjoyment.
Your flesh is heartier than any sun,
warming my unwavering conviction on freezing nights,
when icicles threatened to appear upon my person.
I cannot confirm if our relationship
is like the others happening right now,
but I can guarantee, I won’t regret having loved you,
even if you leave, for every memory is a banquet,
that ought to be gorged eternally.


Forgive me,
if my lips find yours,
for this puckered flesh
of mine, searches
for a continuously
kissable romance.

Mirror my heart
with your good beauty,
and please
eclipse my soul;
burn my retina
of all foul thoughts
and leave only room
for compassionate intent
towards both you
and your smile.

Make certain
I never regret
these moments vast,
and even when your hair
does not brush against mine,
and your hands
are absent for me to hold,
a part of you
beats within my decisions,
and I am always happier
for this.

Despite any distance
that may come between
these depths of emotions,
the sun shines
upon the both of us,
and in it, our energy
is transferred across
the light, shot like an arrow
into our chests,
for never are we truly far away.

The Plight of Mortal Beings

My want to love you, rendered fiction
forevermore in but a moment,
your words of hollow romance
suffocating the essence of my heart
into a shade of puce. I cannot
ever rectify nor cease the pain
committed unto me by your morose
decision, to slice apart my romantic
pledge with the sudden impact
of your words. Some choices cannot
be taken back, my decision
to open my vulnerable heart
proving to be an adverse action,
exposing that which could
be taken advantage of. Any grace
is fractured and loneliness succumbs
my body in its twisted decadence,
no trace of eternal love remaining
within my severed consciousness.
This plight cannot be justified
by these writings as I attempt
an explanation, and in doing so,
I become conflicted by the truth,
drowned in great misfortune,
that happiness is only meant
for fairy-tales, rather than
the plight of mortal beings.

Sins We Never Died For (Poetry Reading)

This here is the link to one of my new poems, Sins We Never Died For:

Rather than including a textual version of the poem, this is purely a recorded reading. I will note however that this poem is rather erotic, and thus does contain some images and themes that will probably not be appropriate for people of all ages.

To Woo

A reading of the poem can be found here: Please enjoy!

Head straight, stand tall, broad shoulders,
shave off all the hair
that is located on your head.
Work out, large muscles, bulging biceps,
they are all out of steroids.
Straight teeth, good eyes,
remove your spectacles, wear contacts.
Tattoos, piercings, resume should list
tonnes of evening experience.
Sociable, polite, but fair,
heroic and entertaining.
Well dressed, wealthy,
smooth accommodations.
Does not sound at all like me.
I’m head lowered, back broken,
shaggy like Wolverine.
I sit back, relax, and work out often –
with a knife and fork.
I’m crooked teeth, bad eyesight,
have half my face covered over by glass.
I’m grungy; I’m underground;
I’m beyond antisocial,
my last date was on a calendar.
I’m baggy jeans and a muscle top,
hanging from my limp shoulders.
I volunteer, I work for free,
I reside in an orphaned slum.
Do women really want
this depressed woe
dangling from their arms?
I’m no Brad Pitt, Ryan Gosling,
George Clooney, Chris Evans type.
I’m me, and never shall I be enough
to satisfy the beating heart
of a bachelorette
looking for true love.

To the Beautiful Blonde Haired Woman

Hello stranger, with your blonde hair
beneath your beanie, you captured my
attention with ease. You stand out like
a lonely dream boat at the mercy of the
sea, and if my arms were a lifebuoy, I
would happily sacrifice my existence if
it meant your beauty could live on. But
if I be gone, look upon you again I could
not, and bereft with grief will be my
heart, whether I be alive in this world or
the next, for a world without you in it, is
a world I do not wish to live upon. Your
skin, a ghostly white in colour, looks to
be reminiscent of the cool Antarctic air,
and I would love to hold you in my arms
as to bring the rosy red of heated joy to
those diminished cheeks again. Not to
say your features aren’t extraordinary;
no ma’am, my intent this is surely not,
the rare purity of your ice cold features
putting even a snow flake to shame. Like
a bush burning magnificently in the
wilderness of walled fire, your hair be a
hot blonde in colour, and yet, ironically,
the many strands would be cool to touch,
moving with gusto to every beat of your
stride, like grass gently flowing in the
dewy mountain air. Your smile cuts me
to pieces when there’s that crinkle in
your eye, and like a bladed instrument,
you cut me with your scissors of surprise
that be your brilliantly white teeth, that
you plunge with unknown intent into
the farthest reaches of my soul. I am
shocked light lightning every time I be
witness to your enthralling grin that
delivers upon my mind an indoctrination
from which escape is not an option, but
why would I want to run, when you are
all I have ever wanted? Your voice, like
the soulful melodiers of a decent
harmonica, tastes like a sweet English
apple grown in the winter season,
glistening radiantly to every tone of
your silky speech, like a duvet, wrapped
around the bodies of all who are lucky to
hear that which floats out beyond your
lips, warming our mortal frames whilst
the sun is incognito, hidden behind the
late autumn clouds. Now, if you may,
place a treble clef before this sentence
writ; the polyester of your jacket, that
be the colour of painted Earth, and
those jeans of yours, emboldened by
the sound of raging blue, burns like an
effigy upon the ocean floor, that be
defaced with luminescence. These
colours cannot breathe, but choke, in
the same way that my eyes weep at the
sight of such rare perfection when
admiring your figure, that mirrors the
definition of a sensually relaxing
paradise that any man would be lucky
to explore. The stud within your nose
glistens like solid silver when touched
by the light that glows from up above,
whilst your big eyes, ravishing in
appearance, shine like emeralds, and
the farther from me you are, the brighter
these jewels shimmer. Combined, your
physical frame comes together to create
an image I cannot help but watch with
trepidation, a nervous tick bubbling
up inside me at the thought of seeing
you again. Could I say a word of two
without fear of a reprisal for speaking
with such an honest tongue? My eyes,
with their heart shaped pupils, stare
with lustful longing in your direction,
and never do I wish to lay my eyes
upon anyone else again but you, for
who could possibly contend with the
woman of unimaginable beauty? Ma’am,
I cannot halter my heart’s desire, for
only you be strong enough to conclude
these feelings with but a snap of your
swift fingers. As for me, I would happily
die a million deaths if it meant I could
buy you a coffee when the time for
lunch is served. If want to know the
writer of this verse you do, wait around
when lunch time arrives and I will make
myself apparent; if not, that be your
conclusion of choice, and I shall respect
your decision forevermore.

Hey guys; I wrote this piece a while back for a certain someone. Long story short, she shot my advances down. Anyway, this poem was gathering dust, so I thought I might unveil it for others to read. Hope you guys enjoyed this poem?!

Upon the Moment of Love’s Tender Touch

‘I’ll go out with you for dinner’
said the woman who had attracted
my attention span, but never
would she really like me; want me;
love me, so it be pointless to accept
her invitation, unless she is capable
of proving her affections to me.
I never asked her to go to bed
with me; just to prove her love
was true, and since such a concept
is obviously far too difficult
for her to comprehend, it is obvious
that I am not to be blessed paramour
of a future yet to see the sun
of a new day; I am simply a stand-in,
until the moment she meets
the man she can truly love,
and once again I will find myself
essentially alone upon this tragedy
coming to fruition, and my shadow
is all I shall have for company;
and that is the worst fate any romantic
could possibly ever endure.


Loneliness, will you abandon me this night
in replace for an infinitude of love
as unending as the time? Will you
give to me but a moment to have a life
with a beauty, who ought to have her
features draped across the stars for all
to see?

I proclaim that I be ready to remove
all that has halted my journey towards true
north, where the angel of my blessed dreams
waits upon a pedestal of scented roses for
my passion, which I will gladly give to her
in a chalice that has been emptied
of all the sorrow that it once contained.

A promise of love eternal and infinite
would be met with happiness at the gates
of true romance in novels written by those
who believe in endings which conclude
with the sound of wedding bells.

Instead, I sit before a pedestal which
encapsulates all of my mortal failings,
my tears salting all that I look upon
in these moments of undone despair.
Where once I thought I could find
happiness, I have discovered that I
am merely a fool, whose punishment
is that taint of disrepute which lingers
upon my skin.

I am no murderer, and I am not
responsible for the breaking of many
a young woman’s heart, but I do
solemnly swear in the courtroom of
love, that I, the writer of these here words
am guilty of asking a young maiden
to enjoy a dinner with me.

She waved her hand and could not
submit to the allure that I had thrown,
my chivalrous attempts at romance
being but a shallow pool in contrast
with the ocean of eternal magic she
wished to have bestowed upon her soul.

The answer ‘no’ would have been all that
surely did suffice, and I would have been glad
anyways, for her voice, like lavender, had
draped itself across my ears. But no, she did
not dare stop at words, for the moment
was to play itself out within the foundations
of her mind every night when she tried to
simply rest, the nightmarish imagery of
my love confusing the sanctity of her mind.

So, she shot me looks of venom, whenever
our paths did happen to cross, and I be
lucky that I am naturally immune to the
toxicity of her now rancid flavored eyes,
which were once so delicious, that no man
alive could have fought the urge to sacrifice
his very soul in exchange to look upon
such masterpieces.

I never meant the pain that now rampages
like an unrestrained fury through her mind,
but I on the other hand find utter strangeness
in what has here transpired. Could my
affections really be so horrifying? And if so,
what would need to be done to see to it
that I am eternally forgiven?

I wrote this in regards to a dilemma that I at present have. A few months ago I asked a young woman out, to no avail, for she was already in a relationship. I am uncertain of her status at the moment, but am almost certain that it may have changed. My question is; should I ask her out again? Any answer would be surely appreciated.

Thank you for reading ladies and gentleman!

Where I Am Right Now

To the woman I have fallen for,
you know exactly who you are.
I saw you once from across the room,
and without a word,
you had me wrapped around your finger.

Our time together,
although it really wasn’t ‘our time’
and together we certainly never were,
was spent apart,
with an opportunity presenting itself
every so often
for me to take a glimmer of you.

I drew you into me like oxygen,
even when I did not want to,
and I remember thinking
how I wanted you as my own.

Even now, as I try to articulate this into words
it is difficult to fathom,
for you simply were yourself,
just as I simply was attracted to you.

The courage I needed to tell you,
(a woman who is totally out of my league,
for you have made your bed
with those I do not associate with)
that I had been crippled with an infatuation,
and the only cure to what ailed me was your affection,
was beyond my very comprehension.

Of course, I should have realised
you would be unavailable.
I don’t know if you lied,
maliciously or with omission,
it does not matter,
for I promised to respect your answer
and to never bother you again.

I had every intention of obeying
the decision I had conceived,
and could even become accustomed
to never having you at all.

But what I cannot become accustomed to,
is having to see you endlessly once a week,
not a month after I asked
for your affection.

There you are,
every week without fail,
tormenting me.

You needn’t say a word,
nor do anything;
your very existence pains me
because until I see you again,
I am free from my feelings for you.

Then, I see you,
and every emotion violently re-enters my heart
and I become overwhelmed
with the burdening knowledge
that never will you feel anything for me.

I cannot move on either,
for no woman could ever compare to you
while a piece of you
remains right here with me,
even after I have tried, without success,
to remove you like poison from a wound.

I know how unhealthy this is,
and I have tried to avoid you,
but every path, inevitably,
leads right back to where I am right now.

There may come a time
when I never see you again,
and I will be so glad for this,
because finally, I shall be free.

But if I ever did see you again,
this I could not take,
and again I would be doomed to feel for you,
a romance that could never in a million years
compare to any other emotion.

I guess what I am trying to say is;
I absolutely loathe you,
just as I loathe myself,
because I unconditionally love you
with all my heart and soul,
and until the day
that neither of us are fated to meet again,
I shall remain,
singularly and hopelessly devoted to you.

On this note,
allow me to write,
I am, if you shall have me,
faithfully forever and always yours.
Sincerely and with kind regards,
the writer of this here verse.

The Fallen Feelings of my Heart

I thought I knew what love was
but I didn’t know at all
until I fell for you the moment our eyes met,
and break this spell I never could,
for never was there anything more Heavenly
than in the moments I found my eyes watching you.

Did your hand fall from your wrist
and strike my heart until it was but yours
to hold and to command?
Fell upon your spell I did
in the moment of our chance encounter.
Never did you mean to ensnare me
for I be not a dashingly handsome young man
who could ever offer you the world.

Just as I know the sky is blue
and the grass is green,
I know I am not the man you are looking to spend forever with.
You smile before you retort –
sometimes the grass is yellow
and sometimes the sky is black,
and sometimes, love can be found in the strangest of places,
and tonight, love is in your arms.
These words are of course not of your own,
but of my unconscious delirium
as I find myself awoken a moment later
from a dream, one of which I will neither return to,
in this one, or the world I recently exited.

But I would cry an ocean of tears
if it meant that the liquid which floods
my eyes allows me to see you once more.
Turn to me young lady, just this once,
so my day could be brilliant,
for one look at you will leave me feeling complete.
Rarely do I have the option
of setting my sights on yours,
and what would I not do in my desperate act
to see you again before the day turns to night
and the chance that I crave is gone from me?

If I be not fool enough in life,
then love it seems will bear the brunt of irony’s humour,
for love you do another man,
and soon will come a time when chime do those wedding bells,
but never shall they sing for me and you;
only for you and your beloved.

Like a bottomless pit you are,
and I have fallen into you,
and just like there will be no end
to the breeze that ripples across my clothes,
never will my feelings falter,
and yet, never will you feel nor fall for me.