Impressionable young women
encouraged to enter a trade
that oft belittles and degrades
detrimental to mental health
not worth the short-term wealth
people have become inured
forget the pain often endured
reality becomes obscured
to enter a life of vice
women can feel they have no choice
no other way they recognise
fed by their dealers lies
I always picture it seedy
making a living from the needy
pimps are just plain greedy
big men, in fact, weedy
I’m told its consensual

tremble in the voice

the night lair haunts
with empress mirrors
coiffed hair taunts

dream ember
sapped in turmoil
the golden age
unfurled

the parted world
in its weave
its magic

the last dance
in the bloody basket

Report Poem

First Evening (Première Soirée)
by Arthur Rimbaud

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
Half nude, she clasped her hands.
Her feet trembled on the floor,
As soft as they could be.

I watched as a ray of pale light,
Trapped in the tree outside,
Danced from her mouth
To her breast, like a fly on a flower.

EPISTOLA FRATRI MEO
[Letter to my brother]

I am nothing more than who I am
I know my strengths and limitations
yet somehow I’ve failed
to meet others’ expectations.

Always judged but rarely judgmental,
I’ve spent a lifetime nailed
to one cross or another.
I’ve lived by my own golden rule
and I do unto others
what they have done to me.

My heart may be tender
My character of a nature kind
But I am no fool:
I am not blind to treachery
and can clearly see
a Judas trying to undo me.

My dead voice-- a mockery
Of all that see

A clear vision-- That strides
Above the green sea foam

The muted eye-- an inward glance
That hides among the black roots of forbearence

Disclose arterial reality-- Cains left hand
Lifts the ocean from its smoking earthen cradle

And amasses secret lies-- below the tidal
Weathers embrace

The weekly mad house.
Everyone in the “Ten Items
Or Less” line has more.
Dressed in finery straight from church or shorts
and flip-flops right from the morning hangover.
The week-to-weekers with buggies full of
plastic on plastic.
And an old gray haired guy
somewhere is smiling.
This is a long way from 1962
right Sam?

Exhale.
Long awaited and so in control of .....
All.

I read it.
It reads me right back.

Random music on
but
not
much
else.

His words speak heat.
He gives me language in degrees
that stick to my skin
like humid summer time, beg for some relief soon Jesus please...

Brilliant, blazing, softly crimson
Aglow against the midnight blue horizon

Fingers strong and gentle, dipping into the glory
of the melting twilight sun

Slowly streaking the reddish hue
Across the complexion of the evening sky

What wonderment to the eye
The Ultimate Artist, proving He still can

love me will ye

love me like you've loved none other
mother pop sibling,
yes brother sister,
uncle aunts don't figure in today
the world is full of anxiety
if i may that say…

no nephew, niece has any time for you
even if love you gave them too…

so love me today
like you do love your Lord

be he, human
angel or God….

moon, silk in gold:

ocean's salty tongue
swoons across the sand