Tag Archives: poetry

Mispelled Pleasure

You may not be in love
But you’re hypnotised
Hooked the moment your eyes met my waist

The roll of my hips
The softness of my bottom lip, the flick of the top
The weight of my legs

You fell under my spell
And I fell for the feel of your hands and touch of your skin
The rise of your chest and the grunt of your breath
As my leg hung mid-air
I realised I could not control this spell
And the curse of Want that was to follow

All control was lost and I began to fall for my own spell

I began to beg
For my leg to wrap around your waist
To feel your lips on my neck
I became weak in ecstasy all because of you

All in want of you.

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Who would have thought
Ecstasy and euphoria
Would make me forget
The ground below
Would make me forget
The cold of beautiful snow

To float in the clouds is bliss
Until one remembers they are hungry
You cannot use aether to quench your hunger

Dancing till your feet are tired?
Joyful until you complain
Of arthritis in your old age

Eating rich till your heart is satisfied
But that same pleasure
Can cause that very same heart to die

Love has a price to pay
And there are sacrifices to be made

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Love Begets Sin

If you have ever loved
You have already sinned

You have committed Pride
In how you observed your loved one

You have committed Gluttony
In that you want more and more of your lover
Even when you are full
Even when they are empty

You have readily and excitedly committed Lust
Running to them unashamedly
Abandoning all logical reasoning
Just to feel their softness within

You have committed anger due to the flames of your desire
When the immediacy of your ardour was not returned
Even for a short time

You have dwelt in slothfullness
All those mornings, afternoons and evenings
Laying in your lovers arms
Covered in past, present and future kisses
The sweat of your consumed desire
Still wet on your skin

The sin of envy
Committed unabashed and brazenly
As your lover causes you to build fences and castles
Great walls, that even China’s cannot resemble
All in the hope, that no other can taste the insatiable fruit
That is your pride and joy

Love creates a natural-born sinner


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They say light exposes all

But what if I tell you that my light is of a different shade


A different matter


For the darkness helps me to master, manipulate and encounter my light


My truth cannot be shown in the light

For it blends too easily


Instead I must go to the abyss,

To the Land of the Dead,

And search for my Light.

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‘Pretty in pink’ she once said.

With my white shoes.

Blood curdles around my toes.
I sink in my own blood
Lightened by my lack of depth

Gravity has no effect.

I smile back at her with pity.
Why is it the pink you envy?

Did you not know that it was crafted by children young enough to use their hands
But their sexual organs remain bound?

They see the beauty before their eyes and see blood
Lightened by the artificial love and tenderness of the young.

Are you still envious?

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The Hunting

The predator eyes his pray
The feast that he beholds is that of fire to water
Love to Steal
She looks upon her predator with hunger
She longs for death
Life has nothing for her
The land is barren
Her tribe is far
But she will not die submissively
She will raise her arrows
And fight. 
She turns from Sodom
And runs
The veins through her body expand
Her heart beat quadruples
Adrenalin comes upon her like a robe
And the prey flees from her predator.
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The Psalm

Do you not know that I walked with huntsmen from ages untold
That I have fought Lions and Tigers
Torn apart by their limbs
And tasted sweet nectar from their carcass?

Do you not know that I have danced before the Lord till those I called ‘friend’ turned against me in shame?

I was refined by the purest blacksmith
Made with the whitest fire
And the coldest ice

I fight with a vigour that can match no other

Like a village woman who protects her children
I guard my heart

I come against you

For you… Shall not destroy me.

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I was made to worship thee

I was made to worship thee
To make a pilgrimage whenever thou is good to me
Even when the times are bad I will offer up my worship
For I was made to worship thee

The wonder as I caress your soft arched back
Your round soft mounds, like hills rolling
They create the perfect atmosphere
The perfect scenery

Your long smooth legs come like the pillars of a sacred temple
A thousand men can work to create such beauty, but only God can truly bestow it

And between those holy pillars can be found that sweet nectar of life
The life of the world
The source of all creation
It is this nectar I drink from after my verbal worship
My oral praise
No honey, sugar or fruit can compare
Despite the fact they enhance the flavour of this nectar

Those lips that can issue a blessing or a curse, are made of the finest sugar
Warmest fires
And the heated furnaces.
They enjoy my worship, for they express their wish for more
In tongues spoken from ancient times, only understood between the worshipped and the worshipper
These tongues that this mouth speaketh, soft as cotton, heighten with my worship
Strengthen with my praise

The back arches further
Curving to the shape of my palms

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