Archive for January, 2013


Old rotting love dies a little more each day
To make room for new to move in and stay
And shove out the hurt old memories bring
And soon the winter will melt into spring

It’s hard to forget, even more to forgive
But with burdens and grudges I don’t want to live
So with time I will learn to let go of the sting
And soon the winter will melt into spring

Open your windows and air out your rooms
Bring in the mops and the sponges and brooms
Invite your real friends, those who make your heart sing
And soon the winter will melt into spring


Too Much Clutch

I found my Hercules
And I fear I’ve already driven him away
Perhaps he is just busy
Because that’s what he said he was
All I know is that the communication was in troves
The sex was amazing
And he thought so too
But now I haven’t heard a word

Patience, Ray.
Que sera, sera.

And if he doesn’t want you,
[don’t] fuck him.
He’s not worth it.
You are an Amazonian Sex Goddess and they should be kneeling at your feet.

Hope is fine, but not entangled in despair.

Already I grow weary of being alone.
Having many notches is fun, and all, but still no one holds me tight all through the night.
I am lonely and forgotten.
Whirlwinds of lives lived around me,
I stand watching, longing to jump on to the manic roundabout
But no one has offered me a hand yet.

So I stand,
A lone phoenix
Without a fire 
To keep me warm. 

Last Night, At The Sea

Last night I dreamed we went to the shore
Everyone we know, and then a few more
Some folks of old, some folks of new
All I know is that I wasn’t with you

Lovers spurned attended with new fucks in tow
Which then brought up rows from long ago
There you sat on the grass, with arm candy to show
With someone else, someone I do not know 

As you both walked away and up the hill
I dove into the ocean, expecting a chill
The sea of my youth, save me from my ill
Let me swim off my pain, I am a slave to your will

But my friends, they made sure to follow me
Bearing the salt and the soak of the sea
They yelped and hollered, with shock and glee,
But mostly to make sure I knew if I needed them, there they’d be 

I Thought Wrong

I thought he was kind
I thought he was true
I thought he was wonderful
Until he chose you

On Fire

I want someone who will look outside
And say, Ray, it’s raining let’s open wide
The windows and doors and run amok
With your breasts exposed as well my cock

Up to the rainy rooftop we’ll climb
And there I’ll kiss you until you feel sublime
I’ll never make you long or cry
When you consider us, you’ll never ask why

Some days we’ll plan, some days we’ll leap
At opportunities we know we cannot keep
Locked away with dates that expire
The spark alone is just the start of the fire

So stock me full of wood for winter
I’m sorry if your gentle hands receive a splinter
Such is the risk when tending the flame
That gives hot fiery love its true name

Cherokee Proverb, I Don’t Necessarily Disagree…

“A woman’s highest calling is to lead a man to his soul,
so as to unite him with Source. 
A man’s highest calling is to protect woman,
so she is free to walk the earth unharmed. “

– Cherokee Proverb

…I wish, however, to remove the gender and have it be a Soul Lover’s Highest Calling.