I like tackling hard topics, both conservative and liberal. This is a cliché poem on a gay man. I’ve written so many now, cannot seem to find new material. I have more poems on the theme of Gay Men and I will share them with you, if they are rejected by periodicals and journals. I put in my e-mails, that ...
She was the lady in red, She walked in through the corridor Of sight of every man in the ballroom. She shook something superficial, With her careless wind and flustered Something deep, like lusty aquifers Springing forth as dewdrops on lip-ends. She was everything – an apple orchard With apples to pick, starry eyes For the astronomer to gaze, ...
My wife had put on the colorless base For a painting in burgundy, cutex She calls it and that little brush Paints little keratin canvases With a single coat of color She knows we will be at Hilton In a couple of hours, partying with friends. She had photographed and sent Pictures of three evening dresses to all her ...
A heart lost in transience Lost is the conga drum And found to the hum drum Boredom they say is like leprosy It eats away what is left A bacteria that chews patience And serenity, as fingertips Play a tune of its own on scribble-pad desk-tops And the foot-pedal is like A rock star making grunge music And in ...
In the heart of Georgia The fast foods chains fatten the black child To a venomous infarction of heart capillaries Knowing the black child who grows into a strapping young man Has a few extra genes to not make It across the Marsh creek to the Gettysburg field Of precarious life. And the ghosts of Lincoln Hover from the ...
Gossamer A cardboard woman Braving a paper moon Torn in lip Breaking-in Mandible and hymen Once border control agents Now crash test dummies Moon-landing She had the pout Lips that broke like china In to an impact crater Fists A perennial woman In a geisha mask Playing hide and seek Battered The wife finally becomes Juliet On the scenic ...
The evening sky in an amber dressing Whirls of pink scattered like strokes from bristles Bees who forage in the early eve Come storming back to their hives before darkness falls Seagulls blaze their sunny-glazed eyes And seaweed paddle to the beach with their outgrowing thalli Lovers under colorful umbrellas caught in gaze traps Free themselves in playful lip-pacts ...
How you look at a loaf of raisin bread, Like staring at sugarloaf mountain, How everything gets magnified, Like a little toffee that becomes candy floss, How we all have lollypop tongues That drip in drool, like Pavlov’s dog Just at the thought of an ice cream, Or a biscuit pudding, how we Are conditioned by our lust For ...
We give to the needy When needs are just a little obligatory Package tied to a shoestring And we hunt all season for the perfect toy Or the mirrored beauty of an evening gown To wear at the 31st night ball We chase party invitations to be seen With the in-crowd at lavish parties We are hunters gathering the ...
## The skull bones of a child, Soon to see a headstone, or perhaps not. The twilight filled with vultures, callous Eyes like lighthouses, shining a beam And a little girl child, that sparked A photograph. How hopeless Gods are sometimes, even a prayer Gets lost in the open spaces, Between the point of despair ...
Hmmm, making love all night Like Boyz-II-Men and other boy bands of the 90s Sing, is no easy feat. For instance my anatomy Or mis-anatomy, which I would love to call “Mr Big” Has a short shelf life, slayed by his own Need to detonate like a grenade or gun. My wife and I have never made love all ...
Here the hot wave blitzes, That you put the beer to the freezer, For a cold rush. You dream Of those bare Birch meadows, Snowmen with carrot stick noses And postmen wearing khaki overalls Delivering mail from the winter wonderland To a scorching hot Sri Lanka. You look at a postcard from Switzerland Mount Matterhorn on the back, And ...
Why did the horny playboy call the Australian cricket manager ? B’cos he was after a couple of hussies What would you call Tony Greig bowling a maiden over ? A comb over What is latest turf popular in the cricketing fraternity ? Hair Transplants, just ask Ponting, Bollinger or Kallis What is the official beverage for batsmen in ...
A ribbon swirls It pirouettes in all sorts of twirls and trajectories In the palms of a gymnast in a floor exercise It embellished birthday gifts and certificates of Ph.D.s. It only knows the crispy feel Of a newborn freshness. And I swiveled like a ribbon Danced like a gymnast, gifted my body in sheer bliss To a stamp ...
The empires we built With hand, heart and lips And the one room we couldn’t fill With the confluence of my little passengers To your little planets And in our twilight we will look back Fondly at our crumbling exteriors And wonder why A little tumbling ball of cells Was beyond any sky or ocean And I will look ...
The cat prowls in to the yard to excrete, A practice that I find horrible, When you consider that I have to sweep The foliage and collect the fallen leaves, Inside a garbage bag. How the cat, Walks to the grass, when no one is around, And lets go of his muscled solids. I wonder, what if my wife ...
The above picture was designed by Michelle Alexander, my wife. How the turtle wears A space suit, the shell, and dawdles To the ocean, to the deceptive depths, And to the flesh eating predators, Knowing survival, is letting go, Of the safety of the pristine sands, And going through a boundless universe, Crowded with fellow travellers. How a turtle ...
Few will ever fight the system. Period. Have you seen a mercenary? Rugged backpack on the shoulder, a gun on the belt Sports shoes on, travelling the valley Of the lexicon, walking slowly Learning not just the art of mere survival, But the tricks of the trade. Look how that soldier of fortune With no support from any man ...
She was a question mark, a conundrum. The lone mare to the black stallion A woman of outer beauty and inner turmoil That he eyed with pristine lucidity She was beautiful, black onyx islands On crystal lochs, an unblemished wilderness With faint sketches of aging, mere silver linings, An opening for emergent butterfly wings For the nymph behind the ...
