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Like lightning on the Sun

Your hair, like a flower, is so
soft and smooth that I long to
run my hands through your
luscious strands and digest
the sweet scent of your petals.
Your smile, like lightning on the
sun, is what causes me to pursue
you with an intensity that can
barely be described. Your lips,
as soft and pink as fairy floss are
what cause me to salivate so,
whilst wishing to taste your
succulent moist kiss. Your
eyes, like sapphires glistening
on a mid-summer’s night, so
bright and beautiful that I wish
to preserve such a treasure
forever. Your nose, so dainty,
so squishy, so well done, fits your
face like the last perfect piece of
a jigsaw that I have been hoping
to solve. Your cheeks, a crimson
in colour, like a blood red dawn
trickling across the horizon look
too gorgeous to be real, as though
you are wearing mascara when in
fact there is none. Your skin is as
rich and creamy as a delectably
dangerous dessert that ought not
to be touched for the intoxicating
flavour of its seductive properties.
Your face, like a doll’s is flawless
and without imperfection to such
an incredible extent that I cannot
help but stare indefinitely at your
ravishing features. But beauty isn’t
everything and only goes skin deep;
it’s what goes on beneath the
physical body that makes you who
you are. Your opinionated
personality, like a dream sequence,
retains the attention of all who come
into contact with you. Your intellect,
like a sword is as sharp as any bladed
instrument and cuts deeper than one
could ever imagine. Your sense of
humor, much like that of a talented
comedian is as side-splitting and
laughable as a joke that I cannot
escape from. Your everything is
my want in life; my destined dream;
my muse. I long for you like nothing
else on this Earth and I swear to
all who shall listen that I will have
you eventually and if not, then I
will have you never more.

Alexia Version II

There is a fire burning
on the ocean, the waves
falling apart like leaves.
This fire is in my heart; my
passion is never ending.

To be with you is a fantasy,
one which shall never come
to pass. I can dream it; I can
think it, but it will never be.

What words can I use to
describe Alexia that have not
been used before? What words
available at my beck and call
could describe such a perfect being?

What words dare a soporific
love poet loathed and unwanted
use to convey to the young
damsel he admires so, that, like
a moth, he would follow her to
the ends of the Earth if
that were ever possible,

for it just breaks my heart when I
see a beautiful woman with
a sad look upon her face, for
nobody so ravishing should
ever look quite so broken hearted.

In this state, your hair looks
messy and your skin distraught and
yet, still, there is not another
young woman in sight I
would rather kiss but you.

I am naturally morose on the
other hand, so to be this way is
in my nature. You however are
naturally beautiful and
so you should always be.

Alexia, your appearance
reminds me of caramel; soft,
light brown, seductive and
beautiful, sticking to every
surface you come in contact with.
Nobody would ever wish to
remove something that tasted
so good from their person.

 You will never know my feelings
Alexia, for I shall never
speak such words. Perhaps my
inadequacy should be
commended, for pain is all
that could ever be found in an
infatuation revealed.

Negativity may run through
this piece, but my heart runs through
it more, and although my lips
remain closed up when within your
proximity, always I am
tempted to say three words to you:

I want you; and yet, still I fail.
The look on your face; the smile on
my heart, never the two shall meet, for
although my feelings are very
real, no perfect girl like you
could ever truly accept them.

For you see me, but you don’t see
me. I’m the outsider the
outsiders don’t hang out with. You’ve
seen me five plus times or more and
yet you don’t even know my name.

I don’t even compute to you;
I am a virus on your
firewall; an enigma on
your mainframe; an entity
that should never belong to you

and yet, I would do anything
to be noticed. I would scream and
bang my head if it meant gaining
your attention, but what
on Earth would I then say?

Ultimately, I deserve
the silence, for I certainly
do not deserve you. I only
hope the man that you have
dedicated your love to is
deserving of your affection.

Always and Forever

Beginning Notes:
There are many poems written every day. This particular poem is about many different themes; this particular poem is about pain; sadness; loss; heartbreak; sorrow; the exploration of life; the human spirit; the strength of the human heart. But most of all, this is a poem about love; more importantly; falling in, being in and enjoying love. This poem is dedicated to and is about a woman, but not just any woman; this poem is about a woman that no man could ever possibly forget. Not always will this poem make sense, and at times it may even be contradictory, repetitious and obtuse, but always, always, will it be forever true. The human heart is an ocean of many, many different stories, and I would like to share with you, dear reader, one now. I do hope you enjoy this romantic tale as you ride upon the waves of this verse.

The Poem:
I just managed, I believe from a miracle, to successfully take back my health.
I’m so happy, I’m so heartfelt, I’m so hung over – I really just can’t help myself;
I need to confess something that has been weighing on my mind, there’s something I need to tell
someone, and it goes something like this; I could kiss you for hours on end when the rain fell,
I could hug you in the middle of a storm; I could keep you warm in the dark of the night,
I could look upon your beauty for centuries, I could stroke your skin come morning light.
I could take a photo of your flawlessness and hold onto it forever,
I could fight for you and die for you if it meant we could just be together;
I could serenade you with empowered words of love by day and cook you dinner when the moon arises.
I could grace you with everything, and even after a hundred years still astonish you with surprises.
I could board an aeroplane today and be with you tomorrow just to give you a kiss,
and confess, that never have I tasted anything as sweet as your crimson lips, young Miss.

You know that feeling – when you have lost love, and then you find it again in the heart of another oh so rapidly?
That feeling – that intense, obnoxious, amazingly fantastical, intense feeling is what has overpowered me.
I was lying down in the centre of the empty suburban street one night – love had officially hung up on me,
when I suddenly received a call – and upon answering, guess who spoke – a woman of unbelievable beauty!
She was older than I, and with the exception of two amazing times I had never fallen for an older person,
but I tell you, struck down, by lighting I was, for I could not, and still cannot, quit thinking about this beautiful woman.
Maybe I ain’t as strong as I would hope, after all, I ain’t built from metal and other strong stuff.
I try to get close to you, young lady, but every time I do so it ain’t nearly close enough,
for I cannot let you go. I look up at the clear dark night, and I can see the moon,
and I know you can see her too, and I hope the two of us can be together soon
for when either of us look up at the great sky from where we are, whether it be day or night it is always the same. If that’s the case, then we both must be on the planet Earth,
and so it would be just so easy, wouldn’t it, for us to meet somewhere? You can set the location, I really don’t care where; be it Washington, London, Tokyo or Perth.

In the end, unlovable is but one word that can describe a fallen soul,
and it is a word that can describe me for instead of a heart, I’ve a hole,
for pain is the unrelenting punishment that is forced upon me as a result of being alive,
and I have come to realise that sooner or later the pain will win out and I will not survive.
Perhaps that’s for the better. Maybe when I’m dead and gone nobody will grieve, and nobody will cry,
and maybe there will be many a happy person on the planet Earth on the day that I do die.
Perhaps every acquaintance I’ve ever met will feel a sense of joy running up and down their spine
which will alert them to the arguably obvious fact that the death they felt was indeed mine.
In the eyes of some certain people I may be a hideous, unpopular, unlovable creature,
and perhaps if I be honest I may say that I might not be blessed with a single attractive feature,
and like I said before, maybe death be good, for there is honestly without a knowable doubt nothing left,
for my heart is broken and barely operating and I remain barely human and utterly bereft.

As a man myself, I can speak from experience; once you fall out of love, you always set your sights on the one woman you cannot acquire.
In your eyes, I want to be seen as a man with an actual heartbeat and a possibility for romance rather than a feared pariah.
I am not asking you to fall in love with me at first sight, but I am asking for a single chance;
not to experience a fairytale, but to have a stereotypical legitimate romance
which is quintessential to the soul. Human beings in general are social creatures, I know this for a fact,
which is why, even after so much pain and bludgeoning, my heart and soul have remained totally intact
as to have a relationship once more. Perhaps this time it will be forever, perhaps this time it will be with you,
and I hope that in the very near and hopefully possible future you might be able to feel the same way too,
for I have been in love before, and I am aware of this just as I am aware of my constant heartbeat,
and whenever I see you I have this powerful feeling which begins in my chest before it consumes me from my head to my feet.
I can understand if this sounds absurd, but I have no intention of ever hiding the truth in regards to love, and my feelings I will not deny,
and to be with you, I will do anything that you ask; I will plead; I will beg; I will write; I will draw; I will with pleasure live; and I will gladly die.

It all began with a blog on the social media platform known only as WordPress.
Never in all my years did I believe the content that I had developed could impress
the eyes of a beautiful woman to come looking over all that I had done,
and in that specific moment my heart, you, young lady, had officially won
and so, in regards to your own meticulous work, I became a loyal, unflinching follower,
one of oh so many it would seem. It was not long after I was transformed into a lover
of your face; of your smooth features; of your sacred flesh. My eyes, they lit up like a great menagerie of fire-
flies transcending across the sky in the darkness of the night as I looked upon the woman I now desire
with an untold passion that burns more brightly than the sun, creeping across the horizon in the wee hours of the morning,
and just like that, my heart cried out for something impossible; it cried out for something more as a new love affair was dawning
upon the path that is my life. I knew then just as I know now that these feelings are never going to leave.
I assure you, you can trust me and my many words; all you need do is look into my eyes and believe.

Love is love I say, and so do many others, and love is but hard to find;
love is the one thing that is always without question on my heart, soul and mind
when I think of you. What name could have hath been given to a woman of such brilliance, a woman who in a million years I could not forget?
What emotions could be conjured by the heart of a romantic? However we are just friends for the moment, I swear, nothing has happened yet.
Love is always and forever the one intended endeavour, it is the only necessary task
to gain, and when someone finally discovers their one and only, people poke them with questions and ask
‘are you having fun yet?’ and the answer always is ‘yeah, yeah’.
People always warn me about love, they say ‘buyer beware’,
but I can take care of myself, really, I can take care of my own,
is it too much to ask for some love, I am tired of being all alone
and I would do absolutely anything to succeed in this fruitful desire
and prove how I’m capable of being your man, of being your merciful messiah.

Cupid visited me in my dreams last night; she didn’t look the way I had thought
she might as she instructed me that there was something that I absolutely ought
to do with my life, which included; settling down, finding a good job and acquiring a partner;
a girlfriend, an individual who was more than excellent to be my one significant other.
When I awoke this morning I could not possibly fathom if the plan had been set in motion,
all I knew was that if my heart was anything it was a terrifically wide, deep blue ocean
that is willing and able to belong to something good, like a passionate relationship, someone new,
like a young woman beyond anything upon this planet we call Earth, and I know that woman is you.
I realise I have not done what was supposed to be initially orchestrated,
for it is something different entirely that I have undoubtedly promulgated,
for Cupid had intended for me to have a grand relationship with an Australian,
and instead I wish to have be romantically involved with a certain Arizonian.

There was a time when angels would walketh the Earth, and still they do as depicted by the image of this gorgeous American
from Phoenix Arizona, who has undeniably captured the loving heart, mind and eyes of this Australian citizen,
for my soul will be but forever forfeit if my soul will be not always yours,
and I would do anything to hold you, to kiss you and to do other things and more,
for the word ‘gorgeous’ is but a word, and it barely scratches the surface of your physicality,
and I don’t think a word hath been invented to articulate what you will forever mean to me.
There was a time once when I was unsure what you were to me, but no longer do I have to make my heart choose,
for I want you in my heart,  there’s nothing left to say, for I could never just have you as a plausible muse.
To hide this huge secret of mine, I could provide to you a suitable pseudonym rather than to call you by your actual name,
for such does not matter to me because regardless of your identity, masquerade or not, I would personally still feel the same.
I am at a crossroads; I hope my words don’t seem too expensive ma’am, and I hope they don’t sound too cheap,
because your intricately stunning and elegant beauty, it runs so intoxicatingly deep.

My heart is a dictionary on everything in regards to passion,
for my heart is as wide and free as the never ending, open ocean,
and I can promise there is nothing I am not aware of, there is not a thing that I do lack,
and all you need to do is say the word and I’ll gladly follow you, my darling, to Hell and back,
cuz you are an exotic paradise I have never had the opportunity to explore,
and the loving dream I had last night of being with you, I long to have right down to the very core
of my beating heart. Within the dream last night, I was lost within one helluva escapade;
I had in the process of seeing you lost both my mind and my head from where they had once laid
atop my neck. Upon waking I was happy; I wanted to return, and I’ll say again, I will follow you to the ends of this Earth,
because of everything that I have ever seen and have experienced, of everything that I am aware of, you are undeniably worth
it. All that is required from you, my dear, is that you call my name, and upon doing so, I’ll gladly be there,
be it any place on the atlas, any time of the year, or absolutely, unequivocally anywhere.

I have known you for only a couple months, but a couple months are all I will ever need
to quench my undeniable thirst for loving romance, to bring a stopper to all my greed
for a heart to be connected romantically only to mine for the rest of time,
and to enjoy the kind of love found in a fairytale or in a nursery rhyme.
I could follow you without question to the ends of this Earth
for your words, like treasure, have an unquantifiable worth,
and your photos that you choose to share and upload to your blog frequently make me smile.
If I had the digits for the All Night Radio Love Line their number I would dial
and I’d ask them to play the song ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden
for you to hear, cuz my beating heart you have without permission taken,
for I was powerless against you with your words of wisdom and your looks of beauty.
Miss; would you ever consider going out on a date with a guy the likes of me?

I listen to the living world around me; to its traffic; to its cities; to its nature; to its ambience,
as I gaze into the affectionately passionate eyes of unequivocal, virginal innocence
that can be described as a sweetness of extraordinary prowess that cannot be tamed,
which belongs to the truest of all true beauties, that cannot ever on paper be named.
If I had a flower for every time I had thought of you, then I do suppose all the flower’s in the world I would need to pluck,
and if you blow a man a kiss from your crimson lips,  I hope only for his sake, he’d better know to immediately duck,
because if your looks can captivate anyone, then imagine what just one kiss could do,
for there is nobody else in this world who I know to be quite as ravishing as you,
for I have seen your life written in photos, drawings and literature within the pages of your great blog,
and it always breaks through the walls around my heart, the brain barriers and the many immense layers of fog
that exists within my mind. Your words are always warm and inviting, and your photo’s are exceptionally great,
and I don’t know if I ever did believe in angels in Heaven, but after looking upon your face, I certainly without a doubt believe in fate.

I have never met you, and I probably never will,
but even with this said, my feelings, they grow stronger still.
I’d ask if we might have dinner, if it wasn’t an issue,
see, the one thing in all the world I want, is spelt ‘y’, ‘o’, ‘u’;
but dinner is not ever going to be option for there’s an ocean in the way,
we won’t be having dinner tomorrow, we won’t be having dinner any other day.
I’ll admit, perhaps I’m totally crazy, I realise that I’m a fool,
for I know I’m probably not that popular and I know I ain’t that cool,
but even with these many words writ and read, I want with you something special; an unbelievably amazing romance
that could sweep you off your feet, and I’d say ‘screw it’ to anything that stood in my way for I’d give everything for a chance
to kiss your oh so unfathomably gorgeous crimson lips on a starry moonlit night;
I know I’m not awesome, but perhaps I can prove that I’m the one; that I’m your Mr. Right.

 ‘Kiss me darling’ I would say to you, ‘touch me’, ‘let me know I’m real;
you are all I truly want, and all that I long to do is feel
your beating heart’, for you are all I ever seem to care
about, and to have you, I call upon the winged prayer
of a Heavenly angel, and I call on Jesus Christ himself
to give unto me the power and to provide to me the wealth
to offer you a marvellous life filled with all you will ever truly need,
and to have you, I’ll face off with the volcano’s edge and I will burn and bleed,
for I must admit, I am through with this façade, this fabrication if you will, and no false truth will ever make do,
than to have the single most gorgeous woman on all the Earth in my arms today, to forever and always have you,
because I do not dare wish to be relegated to a forgotten bitter memory in your eventual past or visualised as just another Facebook friend,
but at the same time I am morbidly terrified that by making any sudden moves, whatever I already have with you may come to an unforeseeable end.

Have I spoken out of just term? Have I been impolite and said too much?
Sometimes I can be like that, being a soporific romantic and such,
but do not ever think my words aren’t real, don’t ever think they are not true;
do not think for but one second that I do not have strong feelings for you.
For I write this piece filled with many rhymes and stanzas for you and only you,
and perhaps I should not confess to this, but I haven’t said all that I want to,
for there’s unfortunately still much weighing upon my heart and still there’s much weighing on my chest;
I must say all that needs to be said, else I promise I will never again be able to rest,
and although there’s but a couple sentences left, due to their content, I wish to say them to you in person.
I wish that the opportunity I seek indeed had the possibility of coming to fruition,
for certain words are better spoken rather than scrawled across the page from several hundred miles away;
and what I wish to express begins and ends with this promise my lady, ‘I will love you every day.’

I feel you are level headed, or is that fear that I be feeling whenever I passionately think of such rare beauty,
who I fear may take one look at the stanzas past and present and may begin to loathe, and perhaps even be frightened of me.
On that note, just remember, I’m a Scorpio, and like any good scorpion I might be aggressive but I will love you forever;
we don’t have to passionately kiss; we don’t have to lovingly hug; we don’t have to romantically touch; we don’t have to be together
because my feelings will never change. I remember everyone I have loved, and I still love them with all my heart and my soul,
and you, young lady, needn’t ever be jealous or scared, because you are the one piece that I require to be heart and whole,
for I really truly love you, more than you could ever fathom, believe or even know;
my only wish is that there was a way to let my uncontrollably strong feelings show.
I do not mean on a piece of paper, or over the internet; I am way past that;
I want to stand beside you and temporarily remove from you your broad brimmed straw hat,
so I could have direct access to your face, and touch your skin with my fingertips,
and just when I believe things couldn’t be any better I’d gently kiss your lips.

If I were to suddenly find myself at the end of my life’s journey on the hour of my death,
the last words I want to say that linger upon my rich, rose coloured lips as I take my last breath
would be your name, before you bestow upon me with your crimson lips an amazing kiss of life,
that immediately removes from me and my existence inevitable impending strife
as to allow me the gift of living just a little longer to look upon your beauty some more.
I can assure you, although I don’t know how, you are the love of my life that I have been searching for,
but for now, I will hide my feelings where they cannot be seen or found, and I will simply pretend,
that I am not infatuated with you, no, I’ll make myself look like another blogger friend
until the day I am given the opportunity to tear down this unshakable masquerade,
and in my heart on this blessed occasion will be held a terrifically romanticised parade
unlike any other, that will put every romanticised event of the heart held before it to immeasurable shame.
I only wish, that if this were a love story, as I wish it were, that at the end, like a fairytale, your gorgeous heart I could claim.

You, my lady, are like gravity; you are like the wind; you are like the air
I breathe. I can never see you, but I know deep down that you are always there,
and if you were to concentrate, you would feel me too; that gentle warmth running across your shoulder –
that is me holding onto you, soothing you, pleasuring you, as the nights grow a little colder, 
for you look upon the same moon as I, and your face is illuminated by the exact same sun,
and just like I know that these words I write are one hundred percent whole and true, I know you are the one
for me. But perhaps you have been hurt, and if such be true, I do apologise, but what you hypothetically had with a last partner was not love,
so I beg of you, blame it only on the man who was a fool to ever harm such fair beauty, but blame it not on the Heavens in the sky above
for the horrific pain that your little heart should not have had, but was forced to endure
every waking minute, for true love is all you’ll ever need-true love’s the only cure
to your pain. Now, I realise I don’t know you as well as I should – in fact I probably don’t know much at all really, but I do know one thing to be true;
young lady, I really, truly, undoubtedly, unfathomably, passionately have the strongest of all strong feelings for your heart, because ma’am, I love you.

I cannot imagine that you were ever born on Earth, so I guess you must be a member of fairer Heaven,
for I am but a shipwreck stranded at sea, and you are my lighthouse guiding me home; my precious blonde haired beacon.
I fear I have been without a certain someone, a certain paramour, for far too long now, and in doing so perhaps my words are sounding desperate,
and this in turn may be why I have decidedly fallen for the woman whose beauty is so astronomical that she deserves the certificate
for been the most beautiful woman in all the known universe, and on the night that you do win, so would be a time for the most expensive wine
to be drunk in cause of this epic celebration, for never was there a woman so elegant, so luscious, so amazing or so divine.
I wish that I, like Peter Pan could fly up towards the Heavens, and that you young lady, could be my Wendy, or perhaps a Tinkerbell,
for never would there be a better story than the one about how I feel for you, never would there be a story I would want to tell
more so than this, for I cannot help but want you, even if I initially only wished to have myself a gorgeous muse,
because out of the three billion something women in all the world around us, you are the one I would always happily choose
to be forever mine. My only wish is that you quit writing; no more journaling; no more poetry; no more prose,
for you writing is so seductive; second thoughts, please keep writing, for I could not live without your words I do suppose.

I wonder if there could ever be a time when you could look back and remember who I was.
Maybe I would have meant something to you deep inside, maybe not too. I only ask because
you’re gorgeous, you really are; never in all my years have I had the pleasure of having a fairer face reflected in  my hazel pupils,
and when I think of you my heart beats faster, I find it hard to breathe, and certain parts of my body become harder, including my nipples.
Moreover I do believe I know the identities of a couple other men who have fallen in love with you;
there is a boy in a hat, a man whose name starts with a ‘D’ and a few others who have remained anonymous too.
Now, hypothetically, if you were to choose to have a romance fuelled relationship with one of us (I know you won’t, but sill, if you were)
please, I implore you to take my advice when I say; choose any man that you wish, for that is your prerogative, just don’t choose this young sir.
I do not say such words with confidence, nor do I say them with ease, but with a heartbreakingly weak sigh,
for I believe these men could offer you more, and maybe have more love in their hearts, and with that thought, goodbye.
If there’s one thing I want you to realise, it’s that I love you, this I need you to know,
because it is said by many a man that when you love someone you have to let them go.

I wonder if the someone I am writing about here is reading these words right now.
My powers of prediction are less than adequate, but I wish this were true somehow.
‘Neither of us have met’ you might state, before asking ‘how can you fall for someone who lives on the other side of the world?’
and I would graciously reply in response ‘you are intelligent, you are so gifted, you are cute and you are a girl;
that’s all I’m looking for, that I’m certain of, that’s what I know,
so, please don’t leave me be, please, young lady, do not let me go.’
I wish there was zero chance of you leaving me behind and quite the opposite of you staying where you are, but I know that’s just reckless, blind, hope,
masquerading as the impeccable ability that which I have ignorantly and egotistically created that can help me cope.
I agree; my feelings may be a lot of things – delusional, deranged, insane perhaps – but they need no explanation,
for in all the world; in all its beauty; in all its contents; in all its uniqueness, you are my wanted destination,
for I feel that I need you the way I need to breathe; the way I need to drink; the way I need to eat and I am certain that all of you reading this can relate when I admit how I have a constant dire need for oxygen,
just as I have a dire need for you. As for your identity, here’s a clue; your name begins with the third letter of the alphabet, or perhaps the tenth; other than that, I ain’t admitting to anything without a reason.

You can’t make someone love you; it’s an unfortunate fact I’ve found, but someone can make you love them with but a twitch of their eye,
or perhaps a smile, a light hearted giggle or an intelligent quote, and then you know without them, your heart and soul will die.
Upon finding you, I will love to run my hand through your exotic hair and stare into your utterly ravishing blue eyes,
that are as clear, flawless and amazing as the Heavens that hang above me, and the never ending cloud free cerulean skies
and even though the truth might always times infinity be that we are a couple hundred thousand miles apart,
the distance, it don’t really matter, for there is nothing ever between us because you are always in my heart.
I’d run a thousand miles just to hear you say my real name, for you know I’m not a ‘Derek’, no, I’m a ‘Nicholas’,
and even though my words may seem oddly strange, I can forever assure you that my feeling’s ain’t ridiculous.
Now, I know I’m not the only man who feels such feelings; there are many men who crave you, and they number in the millions,
and every single one of them is vying for your gorgeous beating heart, your flawless love and your undying affection.
However, I will want them to know, that I am a ravenous wolf, hungry for passionate love, and without you my dear, I will eventually starve,
and I am so greedy and conniving that I do not wish to share you;  I want you alive and whole and I irrefutably refuse to go halves.

Many a man on this Earth will dream of something, and my dream is to be with you. I will be but yours, all you hath do is say the word and you can have your way with me and do with me what you will.
Like a plastic figurine, you can contort my frame into a menagerie of odd shapes; you can twist and turn me in and out, and if it shall be your command you could harm, injure or even kill
me, for as long as I am with you, any moment will be but beautiful, for we both shall be side by side,
and nothing could make me feel more alive; nothing could be more magical; nothing could provide me with such pride
and happiness as I am girt by your love, and you with mine forevermore in a moment truly more marvellous than anything imagined
by anyone with a creative heart, soul and mind, because I do not believe such would  be pure happenstance; I believe we are but destined
to be together. However, proven am I, a romantic already, and I fear my heart be but contaminated with such failed logic,
but even with such written words placed upon this blank page, I know deep within myself that to be with you tonight would absolutely do the trick.
But could you ever truly lower yourself to be with someone of lower standing, aptitude and grace,
who would gladly come after you with all that he has, but if the tables were reversed, you would not give chase,
because you are you and I am me and I tremble with real fear at the general idea that the angel Cupid did not want for me to feel emotions that were ever quite so powerful, quite so delusional, or quite so wild,
but just know – if you ever want to love a man who you can rely upon to never fall out of love with you (unless Tara Mokhtari falls for me which is highly unlikely), just call the name of this lover, just call for Derek Childs.

Ma’am, I am no Roman Payne; I ain’t no Brad Pitt, and I am no Ryan Gosling,
and by the conclusion of this day, I will not be the man you shall be kissing.
Like all the other many men infatuated with you, we be but early foot soldiers in the war for your love,
for never was there a more beautiful woman in all existence than the one who hath fallen from Heaven above.
Like a falling star, you bring about many a positive feeling, a sense of hope and longing and all round good fortune,
and I take my one and only opportune chance to make the wish I dream to be mine beneath the light of the crescent moon,
in the hope that one day perhaps I could be an object of desire, longing and affection in your handsome heart,
and if good luck be bestowed upon me, forever shall a love affair be kindled and never shall we be apart,
because I do  believe that a dream depicting you would be beyond delightful, but a life with you would be oh so much better,
because I cannot imagine anything more fascinating than spending time with the young woman I want to be with forever,
because you truly are, as far as I can honestly tell, without a single flaw you inhuman Godlike seductress. I do not just think such thoughts, I know them for a fact, because you are physically, mentally and spiritually beautiful, and have a beautiful soul and smile as well, and I find myself wondering, would you too be a beautiful kisser?
I would very much appreciate the opportunity to taste the flavour of your kiss and discover the truth of this for myself, but I definitely doubt that anyone as amazing as you could be anything but fabulous in this regard, for there has not ever been a woman who captivated me so the likes of Lady Ginger.

I may have to warn you now before you acquire the wrong impression, I have always been attracted to women who were a little older,
and the intense feelings I have for you dear heart linger on inside me like an immovable object; an incredibly ignoramus boulder,
for you have captured my love heart effortlessly and now with all your talent, you perform like an eccentric ballerina upon its centre stage,
and at day’s end I’m certain of love and I realise I don’t care about the differences, just as I know it would be impolite to ask your age,
just like it would be deviously nefarious of I to ask about your religion; your culture; your background,
besides, none of this affects nor concerns me because true love and beauty I have inevitably, finally found,
but in any case, I do not give a darn about the multitude of differences that separate us so, and all I really care
about is you, always and forever unto the end of time, I will love thee; the woman with the radiance of a solar flare
and I need not stress again how deeply I feel for you, cuz I’ve stressed it numerously over the course of this truthfully honest piece.
I probably have no need articulating your beauty as I already have and my feelings are obviously not going to cease,
and now, I add, this mild mannered man, this dubious author, this aspiring poet, will ask that you please,
consider granting me the chance, and allow me to be your lover, your fighter, your heart’s romantic disease.

I swear to you, I will not ever go quietly into that good night
and I will not ever give up without putting up a tremendous fight
until I have confessed to you all that is weighing so heavily upon my body, heart and mind,
regardless of whether you feel my words are redundant for within them the truth you shall always find.
However, I will admit to you now, I don’t know how to articulate my feelings, I don’t know what to say,
all I know is that you are beautiful; you are incredibly sweet; you are attractive with a capital ‘A’
and a gargantuan explanation point at the end, and I know that what I am feeling is love, I am absolutely sure,
and I am unequivocally certain that in all the world, no one else could ever have such strong feelings or ever love you more,
even though you speak of already being in love. If this be true, then my heart is weighed with much sorrow as I confess that your lover, he is a very lucky guy,
and I hope he realises this, for many a man would agree that it would be so easy to make the decision to do anything, even if that meant to die
to be where he’s standing now – with you; the single most gorgeous woman in all the world, both physically, spiritually and every other way imaginable. I do not say these words lightly; I speak only from the heart and my heart does not dare develop wild illusions nor ever communicate with a forked tongue.
Even if you do not accept me, and I am certain that you won’t and I understand why, I will have you know; a millennia from now someone may read this verse, and in these words they will read of you; your beauty; your intellect; your graciousness; your skills; for in this verse you are, forever and always alive – and young.

End Notes:
The conclusion; the epilogue if you will; the final piece of the puzzle must always be as elegant as the story that came before it as to allow the reader to feel complete. I haven’t the words to succeed in this endeavour, so allow me to simply write; if you have a certain someone that does not know how you feel for them – be sure to tell them you are in love tonight.
Thank you for reading these words dear reader.

Gold vs. Green/Pointing a gun to an Angel’s head

SYNOPSIS: A piece about losing love, only to find love again on the rebound, only to fall madly in love once more, only to lose that love again and only then learn and appreciate the true meaning of pain and suffering. Dear reader, I will admit, this piece may not always make a complete amount of sense.

Warning: This piece contains some coarse language and strong sexual references.

‘Better put on some mittens
and lock up your l’il kittens
cuz tonight it’s gonna get freezin’ cold.
Find that someone you’ve been wantin’ to hold
and never dare let them go.
Your emotions, let ‘em show,
as you stare into each other’s eyes.
The immense power to paralyze
is a truly powerful thing.’
Such words are really amazing,
such words are not mine. A friend I once knew
confessed this to me to confess to you,
as to forever have you as my one and only,
for you are, as you always have been, a fantasy
that I cannot times infinity live without.
This love affair is what this poem is about.

There’s a monkey in my lap
I think my ex has the clap,
and if that bitch is suggestin’
that I gave her the infection
then I have to proudly announce that she is sourly wrong,
for my wonderful equipment has been so clean all along.
For here I am, smiling with a white silk shirt,
all the while happy, playing in the grey dirt
looking for a new woman to occupy my active mind,
cuz memories of an old romance I don’t wish to rewind.
It was then that I saw you, like an angel on the other side of the river.
‘Give me a chance young lady, just one chance, and I will forever be your lover.’
However, you send more misinterpreted signals than a fuckin’
traffic light in the middle of the city that is beyond broken;
one day you’re bright red, one day you’re lime green and the next day you are but gold.
Just tell me, what are we doing? Do you even know? Are you hot or cold?

Driving down the motorway, two seconds from overload;
I do not know where I am, and who cares for the zip code,
for I’m driving in a beast that drinks gasoline
like I do cold beer; yeah, she’s a well oiled machine,
with a bitchin’ engine and well gassed wheels,
she’s a rusted down piece of chrome and steel.
She’s got herself a red finish with white racing stripes
which run straight down the centre, with gas blasting out the pipes
on the arse end of her sleek body which is brilliant if I dare say
on this not so glorious afternoon of a sunny Saturday.
This car of mine, she was designed for wet n wild fun,
and I sure as shit ain’t stoppin’ her on this dog run,
so to hell with the darn cops, if they wanna catch me,
they better be doin’ more than friggin’ one eighty
on this freeway as I burn rubber like I burn carbohydrates
whilst driving in an old dog with some friends of mine who can relate.

Riding shotgun is Alex, as foxy as can be,
and in the back rides Ryan and his girlfriend Natalie.
The two have been getting’ at it, both been getting’ busy
as we drive right through this always over crowded city
for driving around in a bad ass corvette
is likely to get any femme fatale wet.
Like me, this car, she glitters, but she ain’t nearly all gold,
if you’re playing cards with me honey I suggest you fold,
for I know you have a full house, but I’ve a royal flush,
and if you’ve met me, then you’ve certainly had your brush
with destiny, and I tell yer now like I tell yer then, I don’t wanna spoil
your surprise, cuz I’m like a shotgun baby, you have gotta watcha recoil
else you’re gonna get hurt, so I suggest we play it safe, even if we play it rough,
cuz I’m sure you know like me that a little safety is never quite safety enough
when it comes to internal security. So let’s be sure we’re both protected
cuz you don’t want what I got baby, you don’t wanna ever be love infected.

At night our combined voices create quite the crescendo,
I guess that’s the penalty of frequent innuendo,
and if it is, then I haven’t a problem with this.
Such no doubt always begins with a passionate kiss
as it always did, and before you know it we’re lying in bed.
The deed has been done, and I sigh and say ‘nothing like a good head
job’, and you smile and nod and agree.
Absolutely, undeniably,
for Jesus may have died for the sins of all humanity, but he didn’t die for mine,
and I don’t know if he realised I would find sex to be quite so elegant or divine
as to want it every night and day with you, forever and ever
and never would I give up on us, no I wouldn’t, I would never.
For it’s when you say ‘I’ve an itch under my scared flap of skin,
please, can you touch it, can you stroke it, can you really do it in?’
that I find you so utterly insatiable;
my feelings for you – they are undeniable.

‘I want to be with you’ I say with a smile upon my face
that no nefarious occurrence could ever dare erase,
for I am shirtless, sleeveless but not sexless within this life I’m livin’ in.
I do not like losin’ any fight, and when I find you I’ll call that a win.
To do so however, I will need a gift; a keen sense of direction,
but you needn’t fear for never have I failed a self-appointed mission.
‘Have you a map?’ you ask, ‘what map!’ I respond, ‘the journey is in my mind,
and I swear to you that sometime soon you will be the treasure I will find.’
For I know that I like sleeping
and that you yourself like sleeping,
so when I have you, why don’t we sleep together?
Please, I beg of you, do not use the word ‘never’
in a sentence, when you indeed answer my question.
So please, before you speak, listen to my confession;
‘I love you sweet lady (these words I say are fact I swear) and I always will
until this world of ours is dead and gone and time is forcibly standing still.

Perhaps I’ve been wrong this whole time; perhaps more is less, perhaps less is more,
cuz I’ve been yelling to get some good service, I’ve been yelling for the law
to come arrest the bastard who can’t seem to fetch me a bloody drink,
all I wanted was some decent ice cold beer with some chardonnay pink,
but I guess such was just too darn difficult for that dumb son of a bitch.
Which witch is which?
Which watch is right?
Which of these should I dare to truly trust on this darkened candle lit night?
Normally this time of evening, the wine
would be making you one hundred per cent mine
tonight. But on this specific occasion,
there was no such amazing legislation,
cuz it sucks when the one you love really hates you,
when the one woman who was your muse rejects you,
and now all I want is a bottle to drown away my sorrows
just so that I can survive to see the rise of a tomorrow.

‘I am one loony baboony in a cocoony’ I replied,
to the woman I called ‘mine’ who loved me once, the day my heart died.
‘Now there is no one else for you to turn to’
you said, ‘you have lost yourself deep within you.’
‘I’ve been broken, belittled; my heart’s been officially ripped out’
I cried, ‘tell me, what is all this concerning, what is this about?’
You shrugged your small shoulders. ‘Pretty soon you will be dead.
If only you had listened to what your mamma said.
Don’t you remember what she thrice said to you?
Guess you never had one decent, single clue,
or was it that your mind was filled with lead?
Many angels sacrificed their lives for you, many angels have fought and died,
but what was the point, for you’re about to commit emotional suicide.
If you continue on with this expedition,
in the bible there’s only one definition;
pointing a handgun to an angel’s head.’

I still remember the past, that is my curse,
cuz tonight it’s the end of my universe
and I really, truly, nearly am feelin’ fine
as I down a crystallised bottle of white wine
over the course of this very late night
before I get caught up in all the light
of love and life and imminent death,
cuz normally I would lose my breath
when you suddenly enter the room.
You’d play the wife, and I’d play the groom,
we were shitty actors but come the night we were better than ‘great’,
for we were together as promised by the designers of fate,
but now this life has changed and it ain’t the way it used to be
and now you can no longer bring yourself to stand next to me.
You have a week to pack your things and leave, then you can go nuts,
shouldn’t be too hard really cuz let’s face it – you hate my guts.

The Way it Ought to be

SYNOPSIS: About a man who failed to properly live the life which had been granted to him, and the opportunity of new love that he so wished to have as his.

Light a candle to remember the fallen soul; the deceased wonder of us all;
the child of a deadly sacrifice that which is love eternal and infinite.

Such could, if I be lucky, be the words spoken on the morning of my passing
over an intrepid candle that burns most brightly in the hour of my death,
for failing terribly to properly live the life that had been given to me.
Although I wished to be not nobody, I failed to become a certain someone
and so I am forced to sit in the abyss of my soul whilst contemplating love,
as I stare into the eyes of the man who stares back into me from the mirror.
His expression fills me with sorrow as he forces me to remember the past;
such as it was the element that brought me to the place in time I am in now.
Perhaps if I had changed my actions, life would have become the way it ought to be.
But then again’ I think, as the face of the young woman that I love fills my mind,
maybe everything that happened, happened because fate had always wanted it to.
If such be the case, then fate it seems, is an insidiously twisted creature
for leaving my withered heart to die alone within the passages of this text.
The story behind how I came to feel this way happened during the last winter;
such being an event I remember so well for I relive it everyday.
I will paint the scene as it was for me; in colour; vibrant, fluorescent and true.
A party, it was, in a friend’s giant house, with music playing from dusk till dawn.
This friend of mine had just turned twenty-one, this party being a special occasion,
for nobody ever turns twenty-one twice, thus, everyone had been invited.
The house itself was two storeys in height, looming like a huge, pitch coloured monster.
The lights that were on were its facial extremities, making it look so alive;
if one judged the party on its exterior they would have been terribly wrong;
music was passable, food was delightful and the alcohol kept on coming.
The lights were turned up to their highest extent illuminating all of the house.
The walls were constructed from the thickest plaster, yet they rocked to the beat like leaves.
The luxurious furniture looked so eccentric, whilst someone puked up their guts.
The people present danced to the groove, dreaming of getting into each other’s pants;
and as all of this transpired I looked towards the tower of erected gifts
and just as my eyes came to land on my present, they began to drift towards you.
You were leaning up against the far wall with shadows dancing across your features.
One boot covered foot was against the wall, whilst the other was placed upon the floor.
You wore tight blue jeans that were glued upon your magnificently formed body.
Above the waist you wore a light brown, formalised jacket, with buttons down the front.
Beneath this was a feministic shirt that was an aqua and pink in colour.
Your jet black hair was curly in appearance and tied back in a crimson scrunchie.
In one hand you held a piece of literature, whilst in the other a beverage.
I would go on to describe the beauty of your face but I could not find the words,
for there are no words in any known language to describe someone as beautiful;
those, bright dark brown eyes; those luscious crimson lips; that incredible, heartwarming smile.
I realised then I need you, the same way I need oxygen, food and water
and I know from now on my thoughts when I masturbate will consist only of you.
I wish to love you the way Achilles loved the battle and how he loved the sword;
the way Marc Anthony loved Cleopatra, or the way King Midas loved his gold.
It is now in this story that I proceeded to make my way over to you.
I wonder, how you would react knowing your beauty has captured a man like me,
and as I undress your ravishingly fabulous body with my dark brown eyes,
I know I should be put to death for the heavily sexualised thoughts that I have.
It is now that I go to speak, but I unfortunately fail to find the words.
You look up at me and seem almost annoyed; you don’t want another pick-up line;
but the unfortunate thing for you is, you’re about to receive one anyway.
You roll your eyes and stand aggressively before eventually asking my name;
I say you won’t ever require it, for you have everything you’ll ever need.
From now until your body is but dust and your life’s all but a sweet memory;
until forever is no longer forever you will not need to know my name.
Besides, what is a name, even my own, when you don’t have the man to give it to?
This is why my silence is so bitter sweet, for together, we will never be.
With that being said you gently tilt your head and wonder what question you should cite next.
You ask ‘where are your feelings, where do they reside, where do they shine the brightest?’,
and I say ‘they are where the sun does not see and where the moon cannot penetrate’,
for I’m the pariah; the interloper; the worst of all the world’s pretenders.
This is the excuse I wish to give for trying to grab your heart and soul with lies,
for inevitably, such is the later conclusion I will be forced to write.
Never in my life have I been captured by a beauty that I could not have;
but such a woe it is to find that such has unfortunately occurred
and I am been played love’s romantic fool the same way a musician plays the drum.
But even as all of these words, thoughts and ideas are, all of them, but said and done,
I would very much like to get to know you until we are not strangers no more.
I’ve never felt this way for anyone or anything in the entire world;
for you’re everywhere inside of me; you are in my air; my bones; my heart; my blood.
However, as sudden as your heart struck me down with such a force, light lightning,
more sudden was it when another man came up to you and stole your heart away.
He asked you then, with his truly, romantic words, if he could mould your heart a-new.
You looked to have been swooned with joy; captured in the oceans of an age old romance.
He took your lusciously silky hand in his, just as you took his damn hand in yours,
emotions flaring uncontrollably as you stared into each other’s eyes,
being fueled by a powerful passion that made me swoon in the most horrific way;
and with this, he whisked you away, to make love to you the way the Gods intended
and now, every time I see you, you break me, for I wish to be more than friends.
You have made the heroic lion living inside my soul weep a thousand tears;
you pulled out my heart, raised it towards the Heavens and lost it in the black of night
and now I am forced to carry your memory, that is; unforgotten.
Because of you, I have so many scars that cover what this man once used to be.
I have a scar upon my broken heart; a scar that fails to ever go away;
a scar that is in fact a plague, insidiously caused by this ravaged romance.
If you were to come back to these arms once more I would never – and I must stress this,
if you would please come back to these arms once more, I would never be broken again.

Sixty Something Love Quotes

SYNOPSIS: 63 quotes in regards to love

-true love is permanent.

-permission and chance is all that is required to begin a romance fulfilled.

-love is a timeless passion that echoes through the ages.

-like the wind and the air I breathe, love is something that is seen, but is never seen – something that is there, but never there – something that exists, but has no physical proof of its existence. It is the invisible killer of the heart, the fire that burns inside my soul and the one thing that keeps me going.

-I can’t offer you much, but I can offer you my heart. There was a time when that meant something.

-I promised to always love you. I have this insatiable habit of keeping my promises, so you needn’t ever fear me leaving you behind.

-never give up on love. It will never give up on you.

-who is the bigger loser? Someone who tries and fails to acquire that which they love most? Or someone who fails to try?

-a moment of change is a moment still, and a moment lost is a moment never found.

-I swore I would never love again – to preserve the memory of the last love I lost so lousily. But like all of the world’s most hated hypocrite’s, I could not even keep that one, simple promise, and here I stand for all to see – longing for a beautiful woman to come kiss me and begin a relationship everlasting.

-forever is a long time, but in regards to love, it ain’t nearly long enough.

-you can cheat on love, but love will never cheat on you.

-true beauty is on the outside. Pure beauty is on the inside.

-does love giveth life to the human heart, or does love taketh away? Who really is victim in the game of love, and who really is foe? Who will dare fight against love, who will dare go toe to toe?

-when I have eyes for someone I have eyes for someone; I don’t have eyes for anyone else.

-I believe we are all given lips at birth as to kiss the one’s we love.

-if I ask you to ‘shut up’, it isn’t because I hate your voice. It’s because I can’t kiss you while you’re talking.

-sex is the universal language.

-poetry is the ultimate seductress – her truthfulness is the glue.

-we can’t be doing that bad as a species, right? We have golden beaches, great towering cities, beautiful women, and this wonderful emotion called ‘love’. Now, tell me again, what is wrong with the human race?

-making love and having sex are so vastly different that calling them similar is downright outrageous.

-love making is an art form; it ought to be hung for all to see so that all who look upon its rare gorgeousness know exactly what such beauty truly is; ravishing and sublime.

-when you run out of words to describe the way you feel; when you can no longer express your love through a delicate kiss or a simple touch – then the only way left to show how much you feel is to make sweet, passionate love to the one you love and lust for as long as your beating heart will allow.

-red sky at morning? Someone’s heart must have been broken last night – I only hope it was not mine.

-the heart is but an organ. However, that don’t mean love can’t hurt it.

-breaking someone’s heart is considered criminal. So why ain’t their criminal punishment for it?

-you always want what you cannot have, so if I long for you, then that must mean you are to almost always be out of reach.

-sometimes the truth sucks, but a lie sucks even more. I guess it just depends how strong you wish the vacuum to be.

-is it better to be loved or hated? If someone loves you, it could be for nefarious reasons. If someone hates you, they hate you – nothing more to it.

-love triangles are reckless and dangerous. Like the Bermuda Triangle, people simply disappear. If triangles of love are so formidable, then a love cube must be something of hell’s most dire creation.

-love is the only feeling in all the world where you can feel unspeakable agony, whip-whirling emotions and a total loss of self control – and still adore every minute of it.

-taking risks in general is dangerous. Taking risks for love, or for a woman, is mandatory.

-an individual who will not stand up for love is an individual who shouldn’t stand at all.

-those who fight for country are courageous. But shouldn’t those who fight for love be too?

-the death of a dream means the death of a part of you. Never give up on them, no matter how foolish or ridiculous they seem.

-like birds, word of love rapidly migrates. Unlike birds however, it happens once every minute rather than once every year.

-true love means nothing without true meaning. When you love someone, you shouldn’t be attracted to anyone else.

-‘I love you, but…’ is not a fathomable sentence. How can you love someone, but…you cannot. You can but love someone and you can but not love someone, however, you cannot ever love but.

-love is love is love. It either is love or it isn’t. There is no in-between.

-sacrificing oneself, no matter how selfish the act might appear, is the ultimate sign of love.

-an infatuation is not love, just wishful thinking of a desire that never comes to fruition.

-love me, and I’ll love you. Hate me, and you’ll receive the same punishment.

-the loudest sound ever recorded was the breaking of the human heart.

-if you surrender your heart, be prepared for it to be taken prisoner.

-when you are infatuated with someone you see them as this picture perfect person without flaws or imperfections. Then when you finally see them for who they are, you realise you were once blinded, but no longer, for they are not the person you wanted them to be. They are but a shadow of the creation that you held in your heart and mind, for your initial infatuation was blinding you from seeing the truth – that they are not the one you seek to hold in your heart of hearts – they are not the one you seek to spend your life with for all eternity – they are no one at all.

-love has no equal. It makes its own choices; its own rules; its own regulations. We are its slaves, and never can it be defeated.

-one cannot live without that which is a part of them.

-if staring is considered rude, then whoever designed the opposite sex should never have made them so beautiful.

-if stealing property makes you a thief, then who are you if you steal away someone’s breath or their heart?

-the human heart is stronger than you may think. It can be bludgeoned, it can be bent, it can be broken, and even then it can still amaze you.

-everyday you wait for something good to happen is a day you will never get back. Find the one thing that makes you happy now, and hold onto that person forever.

-I don’t like to think of myself as a romantic, but as a realist. True love is as real as anything, and everyone should know this.

-a kiss means nothing, even a first one. It’s the passion behind it that has meaning.

-like all the best occupations, love is one you never wish to be fired from

-one should never say ‘I love you’ until they truly mean it. Even if the one they love says it first, one should never say the words until they truly mean them.

-if you don’t believe in love, what is your reason? For love has no reason not to believe in you.

-can’t breathe? Can’t eat? Butterflies in your stomach? Rapidly beating heart? Only one person on your mind? You must be in love! Enjoy this feeling my friend – enjoy this cursed pain, for it will not last that long.

-love is painful. If you are not in pain when the one you love is gone, then you should leave them be.

-I like the ideology behind monogamy cuz I like the idea of there being one person out there for me.

-love means something to me, even if it doesn’t to anyone else. I never feel it with ease.

-I have not yet found my true love, and in not doing so, I have not yet truly lived.

-attraction, feelings, emotions – all of these are but chemicals in the bloodstream. I choose to call them ‘love’ because it is my wish, my desire, my endeavor, to spend my life with that which makes me happiest – and I have never been happier than when I have felt these chemicals rippling throughout my system.

-‘I love you’ are but 3 random words joined together. I give them meaning by choice.

I have a crush on you

SYNOPSIS: If you happen to read this post, you are bound to find out eventually – I have a crush on a young woman I am following on a couple social media sites, one of which is Word Press. I know, odd, right? I find her physically ravishing and her writing style, the content she fills her posts with and the intelligence she uses to be extraordinarily attractive. So, this piece is about her. I am however never going to name names…I will leave you to read on now. Thank you.

You should know what I want, and you absolutely know who you are,
for we are separated by oceans and divided by scars.
Like a burning bush, you are incredibly hot,
and, young lady, I know something that you do not,
and that is; I will feel this way for you forever;
I won’t ever stop loving you, no I will never.
All it took, was to read but one word you had written,
and in that one split second, my heart, it was bitten,
by that small insatiable love bug, sometimes referred to as ‘Cupid’,
and I admit I can understand if this confession sounds stupid,
but I swear, what I’m saying is entirely true,
and (name redacted), I know I have a crush on you.

You have a blog on the website called ‘Word Press’,
and the things you write leave my heart in distress
because you are a fantastic lover,
and you have undeniable power
to get to me, and to get right under my skin,
oh it feels so good to enjoy a pleasing sin,
because your words, whenever I read them they always captivate me
and I know I love your open mind and your beating heart endlessly,
if only we were not connected by just the internet.
Young lady, can I confess to you a forbidden secret?
I am your one and only secret admirer,
and with your permission, I long to be your lover.

I can’t go a single day without reading your words,
I realise, this may sound entirely absurd,
but I hope you never ever fade.
You are beautiful like a mermaid,
but you’re corruptible like a siren
and you leave me hungry like a lion
from your God like personality and charm,
for I could never cause you any real harm,
nor could I heinously abuse
you, for you’re the woman that I choose
when in contrast with all the rest,
because, you are simply the best.

When I sat by my computer, when I was all alone,
I read your words, and I was captivated by your tone.
I feel an inexplicably strong bond between us, a marvelous connection;
not to be blunt, but thinking about you gives me a terrifically large erection.
I apologise for being just so rude,
and you have every right to say ‘dude,
how dare you say something vulgar like that to me’,
and I confess to you, yes ma’am, I am guilty,
but in defense, you are my one desire,
and to get to you I would walk through fire,
and I would brave the thunderstorms and the rain
if it meant I could read your words once again.

For you I have such an infatuation,
that it defies all known classification
and I can’t go a second without thinking about your heart.
The fine words you generate are exquisite pieces of art
and continuously cause my heart to flutter,
these words I write here and now I dare to utter
because I have come to realise I simply have to have you, yes I must,
for you, my body, heart and soul is experiencing insatiable lust
because your words, they are like an intoxicating love potion,
and are forcing me to give into uncontrollable passion,
but not to fear, for I’ve come to develop the perfect remedy;
and that is for you to spend the rest of your amazing life with me.

I long to passionately kiss you with my crimson lips
and touch every fiber of you with my finger tips
and even though your writing is all I have ever seen,
I just know deep down you are one amazing human being,
for I am drowning in the ocean of your flawless mind,
every moment reading your blog I wish to rewind,
cuz your words are unbelievably delicious
and in my heart you are always the most precious
person I can find. You are just so divine
and I long to make you eternally mine
and believe me when I say there’s nothing else I’d care more to do
because my sweet (name redacted) I know I have a crush on you.

That Gorgeous Lesbian

SYNOPSIS: An ironic, somewhat romanticised, strongly sexualised piece

Warning!!!! This piece contains frequent coarse language and strong sexual references. Some people may also find some of the content sexist, and/or blatantly rude.

I wanted to fuck the head cheerleader;
her mother was a drama queen, her father was the preacher.
The rumor was that she was a virgin.
She was not sexually active and had a lot of learnin’.
She believed totally in God and his disciples in Heaven;
at least that was the oath that she was swearin’.
I do believe that she believes, and I believe this to be true;
and yet, no God could ever keep me away from you.

I wanted to fuck the head cheerleader;
she had a great pair of lungs and I knew her to be a screech-er.
However, she could not defy her oath,
and instead of fucking her, her God ended up fucking us both.
He came down from the Heavens above and He cried ‘Hell no!
What do you think you are doin’ you stupid ho?
If you continue this you will no longer be my child,
for I don’t ever support the sexually wild.’
And with that she was gone, that God fearin’ American;
and I just knew I should have fucked that gorgeous lesbian.

I wanted to fuck the school’s most popular chick;
it was not her personality I was after, cuz I knew she was plastic.
It was her body I craved, more so than the rest;
wanting to stay up all night inside her vagina whilst titillating her breasts.
She had a shit load of friends, but I thought they were all dumb;
thinking of her at night – it made me cum.
In contrast to sex, intelligence is overrated;
with her on my mind – I masturbated.

I wanted to fuck the school’s most popular chick;
and it was her clitoris that I longed to lick.
I wanted to make sweet love to her all night long,
whilst listening to all of our favorite songs.
Around her neck was a necklace, and on it was a key,
which opened a gateway to her heart, vagina and virginity.
However, she kept it in a place only she could claim;
and that one chance I always desperately wanted – it never came.
And with that she left, that ever so popular woman;
and I just knew I should have fucked that gorgeous lesbian.

I wanted to fuck my poetry teacher;
and, like a flower, she was a delicate creature.
I wanted her to put her hands on my cock,
and pull it up and down before beginning to rock.
She had a tattoo on her arm from her rock n’ roll days,
when she used to fuck bad boys; heterosexuals and gays.
Above all else she had the single most perfect cleavage;
and when I think of her, often my thoughts are utter sewerage.

I wanted to fuck my poetry teacher;
those breasts of hers were her most fabulous feature.
One day we found ourselves alone in the room;
mesmerised by her intoxicating perfume.
I said ‘let’s have sex’ and was about to fuck her on the table when the headmaster came in;
screaming about how we were not supposed to succumb to sin.
He erupted ‘bitch, you are here only to teach poetry, not sexual education;
to teach the students literature instead of masturbation.’
And so she obeyed, that really sexy Australian;
and I just knew I should have fucked that gorgeous lesbian.

I wanted to fuck the exchange student from the European Union;
having sex with her would have been totally terrific in my opinion.
She wore a shit load of jewelry, including a gold stud in her nose,
if I can’t do anyone else, I could totally fuck her I suppose.
Her skin was a grey in colour, as too were her eyes.
I was attracted to her breasts, especially their size.
She spoke in a high pitched voice and had a strong accent,
and I adored the fact that she was constantly pleasant.

However, I should know by now, my chances of getting’ laid are minimalistic in design,
which was one of the many reasons why I attempted to get her drunk on exquisite French wine.
Unfortunately for me, this plan of mine that I had orchestrated, it didn’t even work;
her huge, gorilla of a bodyguard showed up and pulled the two of us apart, that fuckin’ jerk.
If that wasn’t enough, her father in Russia screamed at her over the phone;
‘I want you to come back with your virginity intact; I want you to come back alone.
I want you to come back and lead my organisation into the next age.’
God, I know how to pick ‘em, don’t I? Her father fought others on the political stage.
So she left to her motherland, that beautiful Russian;
and I just knew I should have fucked that gorgeous lesbian.

I wanted to fuck ‘em all at once and have ourselves a foursome;
cuz I believed the sex would have been totally awesome.
I would insert my junior into every single hole,
and feel their moist boxes bite down hard on my naked soul.
I would run my hands all throughout their pubic hair
and love each and every one of them forever; of that I swear.
I would then begin to whisper into their ears,
every little thing the four of them had always wanted to hear.
But now, my chances are gone, and so are the four women;
and I just knew I should have fucked that gorgeous lesbian.

Magic Carpet

SYNOPSIS: Like ‘Confession’, this particular piece is technically not a piece of poetry, but a lyric that I wrote whilst with a band. Never was it performed, and so I decided to attach it to my blog instead.

There are things I have seen
which proves humans can be so mean.
Jessie and Dean are now so near,
it’s a shame he lives off her career.
Daniela always keeps in touch,
often it is by the phone,
like others she doesn’t enjoy being alone
because Dean has found a separate crush.
Veronica doesn’t know who her friends are
never being seen again in her brand new car.

She knows who I want to be,
in me she can always find trust.
Now, let’s take a dive
on a magic carpet ride
and find a world for us.
I never knew love could rule this world,
to me she’s no ordinary girl;
I can’t say what she means to me.

Veronica used to hide from plain sight
but now she believes she’s alright.
Jessie believes that she’s found love
which is why she can’t give up
because nobody wants to fear a ghost,
Dean is her only illness;
he doesn’t care about human greatness,
he’s a sight many people fear most,
and when he cheats on her,
I’m positive I never felt this way before.

She knows who I want to be,
in me she can always find trust.
Now, let’s take a dive
on a magic carpet ride
and find a world for us.
I never knew love could rule this world,
to me she’s no ordinary girl;
I can’t say what she means to me.

Jessie and Veronica are almost the same,
they are both being dangerously played.
Dean and Daniela make love behind closed doors
not caring about the pain they’ll cause;
he can’t tell she’s the best,
Jessie knows love is so powerful –
around her I feel indestructible.
As the sun slowly sets,
Jessie may one day know
just how far I’m willing to go.

She knows who I want to be,
in me she can always find trust.
Now, let’s take a dive
on a magic carpet ride
and find a world for us.
I never knew love could rule this world,
to me she’s no ordinary girl;
I can’t say what she means to me.

End Notes: I was taught to assume the intelligence of your audience, and I ain’t saying this piece was difficult to discern, so don’t assume I’m treating you like a bunch of unintelligible people when I quickly explain the poem. One, Jessie and Dean are an item, but he is cheating on Jessie with Daniela. Two, Veronica used to be cheated on and she fled to be safe, away from love, but now she has returned. Three, there is the idea, or perhaps the notion, that Dean and Veronica might have known each other, and perhaps he cheated on her and caused her to leave, or that perhaps they never met until recently and he is going to start cheating on both Jessie and Daniela with Veronica? Wow! Four, the character in the story (the ‘I’ guy) is in love with Jessie and wants her to be his, but doesn’t want to say anything whilst she is in a relationship, because unlike Dean, he has a set of entrenched views and values prohibiting him from doing such a thing. Five, FYI, this poem is not an articulation of an occurrence that happened once either in my life or the life of someone I once knew. It is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to anyone living, dead or somewhere in-between is purely coincidental.

Thank you for reading.

The Rabbit Ears

SYNOPSIS: Looks over a day in the life of two friends and the separate lives they live, and how everything could have turned out differently if but not for one single event.

This piece contains very explicit coarse language, sexual references and some disturbing themes.

 

JARED:

I opened my eyes, the sun bathing my room in a vast ocean of light. Music posters lined the walls and used clothes were scattered randomly across the floor. I jerked the sheets from under me, my body crying out for rest. A sudden sexualised feeling came over me as I pulled down my pants. Grabbing hold of my growing penis I quickly began to masturbate, the feeling being extraordinarily intense as I groaned in pleasure.
To aid in the erection I thought of Ophelia, her body being both luscious and fantastical. Her permed blonde hair billowed across her face, her brilliant turquoise eyes staring back at me; her wet lips looking as moist as ever. Her tight jeans reflected her magnificent legs and fantastically formed arse; her short top revealing the snake tattoo imbedded permanently around her belly button.
I breathed a sigh of relief, semen rushing out from the tip of my penis, successfully accomplishing my erotic morning entertainment. Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself out of bed, dressing myself in appropriate casual wear for my university classes. Hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen, I gulped down my breakfast, bidding farewell my parents before briskly walking down to the train station.
Upon arriving, I wiped the sweat from my face as I stood with the other commuters, impatiently awaiting the train which was already three minutes late. My mind spontaneously turned to Camellia and as I thought of her I believed I saw her on the other side of the tracks as the train finally arrived. I clearly remembered what she had told me on her deathbed at the hospital that fateful night; two tubes connected to her nose, her bloodied appearance being far too overwhelming to believe. ‘I don’t care what it is you believe’ Camellia had said. ‘Just believe in her’ she managed, gesturing at Ophelia, before collapsing back into the bed.
It was these words that prevented me from being with Ophelia. She was beautiful, yes, but her beauty was simply to be admired, not taken advantage of. Besides, she didn’t see anything in me.
Escaping my delusional fantasy I boarded the train, the doors closing behind me.

I sat at the back of the psychology class; the lecturer arriving as I eagerly awaited for Ophelia. Upon arrival she looked exactly as I had imagined her in my wet dream as she sat beside me. Under the light, the piercings in her face were clearly visible, shining beautifully under the fluorescence.
‘Did I miss much?’ asked Ophelia, sounding a little out of breath.
‘No, it’s all bullshit anyway’, I grunted with a smirk which Ophelia returned.
‘Donald’s getting worse’ she finally said, looking a little afraid. ‘He hates me, I know it.’
‘Your father doesn’t hate you’ I shot back reassuringly. ‘Camellia’s death has been difficult for both of you. He is trying to cope with it, just as you are. All of these tattoos and piercings are your way of attempting to find yourself after such an ordeal.’
Ophelia sniffed as she took out her purse, opening it up to reveal an image of her and Camellia, the two of them looking exactly alike. With the exception that Camellia had a pink fluffy pair of rabbit ears atop her head. The image beside this was from their childhood. A skinny man sat in the centre, his broad smile being the most prominent feature. Seated on his lap were both his children, Ophelia wearing the rabbit ears in this photo.
‘It’s amazing how much things can change’ said Ophelia sadly as the lecturer interrupted our thoughts.
‘Happiness is one of the most powerful emotions of all. Go ahead, see how it feels by complimenting the person sitting beside you’ he said, as I rolled my eyes.
Ophelia turned to face me, looking deadly serious. ‘You’re a nice person’ I said awkwardly as Ophelia sniggered. I awaited my compliment, but before she had given it the lecturer began talking again, Ophelia becoming quite distant after that.

Sitting atop my bed in the late afternoon sun, my mind turned to Ophelia, believing she may have needed a little tenderness. Picking up the phone from my desk, I dialed the digits for her home phone, her mobile having being confiscated by her father after the tragic incident which claimed the life of his daughter. The phone rang continuously as I thought of hanging up, just as Donald’s pre-recorded voice came over the receiver.
‘Those fucking rabbit ears!’ he roared. ‘I can’t fucking stand them! They’re everywhere! I can’t remove them from my mind! Oh, but I will by fucken destroying the little fuckers!’ he cried out deviously, the line instantly going dead. Frozen in fear, I leapt from the bed and hurried out the door, racing towards Ophelia’s, fearing for her life as I traversed the darkening streets, sad and alone.

Upon arrival I sensed something was amiss. The entire house was pitch black, not a single trace of life originating from its eerie interior. I shuddered to myself as I navigated the disturbingly unkempt lawn, knocking on the wooden door which instantly swung open. I slowly walked on through, making my way into the lounge room tripping over something on the floor. As this occurred I threw out my hands to stop myself from falling, the carpet feeling drenched. I reached for the light and flicked it on, reeling at what I saw.
Donald lay on the floor, a revolver in his left hand. His entire body was covered in blood, the walls and floors the same. His head no longer looked like it once had, appearing to have being blown off by the gun blast as I found myself hyperventilating. What had Donald done? I ran for Ophelia’s room, which was completely vacant, hurrying back before pausing at the entrance of the bathroom, noticing some form of liquid on the floor. Turning on the light I felt my entire body sag, finding the floor covered in blood, hurrying for the bath where a body was located. I heard a whimpering from inside me as I threw my hands around Ophelia, her body having bled out from having each of her piercings and tattoos removed with a number of sharp instruments covering the floor. What had her father done I wondered, the word ‘no!’ escaping my lips, as I sobbed into her hair, feeling immense guilt for never revealing to her how I felt.

 

OPHELIA:

I awoke to Donald screaming. I quickly dressed and applied make-up, not wishing to further aggravate him as he appeared at my door.
‘What? Still not dressed you lazy cunt?’ he cried, holding a bottle of liqueur in his hands which he quickly finished, throwing it in my direction.
I ducked, the bottle shattering as it connected with the wall, pieces of glass flying across the room as Donald continued down the hall howling insanities. I noticed the rose tattoo on my leg and the piercings in my belly as I pulled up my jeans, grabbed my bag and hurried down the hall. I stopped outside my sister’s room where a pair of rabbit ears was placed atop a pedestal, an image of both of us smiling under it; one of our better moments. Avoiding my father, I raced out the door and hurried towards the bus that would take me to university.

I briskly walked into class and made my way over to Jared. Like always, he looked incredibly handsome as I sat beside him and began to quietly make conversation, beginning to feel life returning to my body once more. Upon mentioning the intense loathing my supposed father had for me, Jared burst into his usual sensitive drivel about how the both of us were attempting to find ourselves. I guess he didn’t realise that I had; I was exactly who I was meant to be.
Of all the people in the world I wished he would be the one to notice that as the lecturer before us broke through my thoughts, instructing us to complement one another.
I smiled, turning to Jared who looked a little taken aback as he turned to face me, his beautiful brown eyes looking directly into mine.
‘You’re a nice person’ he finally said, the words cutting through me like knives as I sniggered, attempting to hide the pain.
What I would have given to hear him tell me I was beautiful. To hear him say that he loved me, so much so in fact that he wished to take me outside and physically express it through non-stop frenetic, sexualised orgasmic activity.  But no, he had completely rejected me as I became more and more distant from him with every second.

I lay on my bed that afternoon sobbing into my pillow, my black mascara running across my face. God I must have looked so pathetic, crying over some boy who I had had feelings for since the moment we had met. Donald’s sudden screaming brought me out of my stupor as I slowly made my way down the hall, finding him in the lounge room with the phone in one hand and a revolver in the other.
‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ he cried, brandishing the weapon at me as I backed away fearfully. ‘I have had it with the fucking rabbit ears and now, I remove them from my consciousness!’ Putting the gun to his head, he pulled the trigger. The effect was instantaneous. His head was completely mangled on impact, flakes of bloody facial tissue flying across the room, covering the walls as his body fell to the ground.
‘Well, it was bound to happen eventually’ I told myself, feeling a mixture of fear and contempt. Making my way to the bathroom I began to cry, tears streaming down my face, my entire body shaking. I thought of calling the police, but I knew deep down I was partly responsible for what had happened. Switching on the bathroom light I looked at my face in the mirror, before puking in the toilet bowel, wiping my face on a paper towel and staring back at my reflection. Neither Jared nor my father believed I was beautiful and if my sister were alive she too would have felt the same way. I looked at my reflection and saw a freak.
Loathed, rejected. I needed to be beautiful again.
I opened up the bathroom cabinet and pulled out a pair of tweezers, placing them on either side of my nose ring before ripping it out, blood flying across the mirror. The pain was excruciating, but I had to continue. I would not stop until I was beautiful once more, reaching my hand back into the cabinet and taking out a scalpel.

Lying in the bath, blood flowing around me, I lost consciousness, feeling contempt that I had achieved true beauty. I heard a door open, before hearing a cry of pain; noticing the shape of a person running to my side and embracing me. And as death took me, my last thoughts were of my sister.
She sat in the driver’s seat, the rain battering the windows on the dark, stormy night, the lights of passing motorists flying by.
‘Might I be able to borrow the rabbit ears?’ I asked from the passenger seat. She snorted.
‘No. They were mothers’. She would have wanted me to have them, especially since you killed her from being born last.’
I knew my sister was still affected by the booze we had over indulged on at the party, but I did not deserve such harsh treatment. ‘How can you say that to me?’ I cried.
‘Oh, fuck you!’ retorted Camellia as I felt an intense rage within me.
‘You know what Camellia, why don’t you just fucking die!’ I shouted as the truck came out of the shadows and plowed into us.