It's so much fun
To use the tongue
And all that it can do
The way it dances
And it prances
Behind my lips of two
Up and down
And all around
When it's being used
Oh the tongue
Is so much fun
When entangling with you

Clammer clammer
Fumble stammer
Once more to the fray

Tripping skipping
My mind is slipping
Slip slip-sliding away

Out my nose
Oh, There it goes!
Running away from me

Take a rest
Catch my breath
I thought it'd never leave

Now I'm great
As a dinner plate
Of serving sized crazy

Truths and dares
And pinkyswears
Huckle-berry daisies

While the ticket is in my wallet
I have both won and not won the lottery

The time is now
If I know how
To leap with all my might

Openly trust
Myself I must
Life's acolyte

Standing Steady
At the ready
To let go of this ground

Leaning in
Trust the wind
Absence of all sound

Eyes close tight
Fear I might
Plummet to my demise

Hold my breath
Brace for death
The Illusion does belie

Backward Rules
Make us fools
The answer's in the trick

Decend to rise
Counterclockwise
A new bailiwick

Bury
me deep
Water me well
Watch me break through
Growth

People don't commit suicide
Because they want to die.
They just don't want to live.

People who are depressed don't disappear
Because they want to be lost.
They just want to be found.

I love myself this second
but not the other nine
and if you ask me how I am
I'll simply respond with "fine"
Because we're told not to wear
emotions on our sleeves
**** it down and swallow it
do not cause unease
But I have learned and confirmed
this simply is not true
They're only words that you've heard
from those less brave than you

You are my time for myself

Scientifically speaking, we are the microcosm of the macrocosm in the universe. As above, so below, and as within, so without. We are the miniature representation, that possesses the characteristics and qualities of the larger macrocosm. This includes our physical body, as it exists within the larger whole of its system.

Stupid human
So easy to light
Flambé style
Clinging to
Pinocchio illusions
Unaware that it’s kindling
To your pheonix rising
Or your slow roasted spit
And oh how you like to turn

S ingular
E go
L iving
F or
I nstant
S elf
H appiness

I am the truth you feel
but can’t explain.
The question you whisper
when no one’s listening.
I am quiet—
until I’m not.
Then I am thunder
with a poet’s tongue.

I am made of mirrors and masks.
I want to be seen—
but not all at once.
Some parts I protect
like holy things.
Some parts I scatter
just to see who notices.

I am love,
laced with warning labels.
I give freely,
but I keep a part of me
tucked away—
because too many people
have called my softness
a weapon
or a weakness.

I am both the ache
and the remedy.
I will hold you in your grief
and still walk away
if you lie.

I speak in stories
because the truth is too sharp raw.
But don’t mistake the wrapping—
the blade is always there.

I want deep.
Always.
Give me your mess, your edge, your quiet panic.
I don’t care how pretty it looks.
I care if it’s real.

I am not easy to hold—
but if you can,
you will never feel more seen.

I am contradiction without apology.
I am fire that won’t beg to be warm.
I am the secret
and the siren.
The open door
and the lock you don’t know how to pick.

I am.
And that’s enough.
Even when it isn’t for them—
it’s enough for me.

I am
a collapsing moment—
the inhale before the truth lands.
The hush in the room
before someone breaks.

I am many a mickle
that made a muckle.
Small choices, tiny sparks,
scattered pieces
stitched into something
intricate.
Clever.
Quietly powerful.

I am willow-soft
and storm-shaped.
Bending
but rooted.
I weep when I need to.
Then I rise—
always differently than before.

I am crow-wise—
watchful, unblinking,
gathering what others drop:
lost things, sharp things, shiny truths.
I speak in symbols
and I speak in spirals.
I don’t walk straight lines
because the answers aren’t there.

I am octopus-minded.
I shift.
I solve.
I wrap myself around the moment
and feel it from all sides.
I live in the in-between—
between what was
and what’s becoming.

I am playful.
Don’t mistake that.
Play is holy to me.
It’s how I fight,
how I heal,
how I transmute.

I am moonlit and moody,
lit from within,
especially when the world turns dark.
Give me wind and mood lighting.
Give me thunder and space to breathe.
Give me dandelions
when no one’s watching.

I am a way finder—
not with maps,
but with language.
I follow kerning like constellations.
I trust the space
between the words
as much as the words themselves.

Thresholds are sacred.
The moment before the yes.
The breath before the no.
The choice that changes everything
but seems so small
you almost miss it.

But I don’t miss much.

I am not a victim.
I have bled.
I have bent.
But I name the storm
and I ride it.

I don’t just survive.
I reshape.
I reclaim.
I write my name in the wind
and dare it to forget me.

I am.
And that
is not an apology.

Golden kisses
Splashed light speckled
Daytime stars

Sitting under the pecan tree
Relaxing in the shade
The breeze she came and played with me
Cavorting through the glade
Until the ants from firetown
Marched up my legs post haste
And made it to my midsection
To bite upon my waist!
Jump I did and slap myself
For what else can you do
When colonies of fireants
Are taking over you?

I am with you
Every step
Ever present
Our union
In light

She taught the wind to fly
She is hello and goodbye
Prismatic reflections
The verb in a sentence
Written across the sky

That thump
and that bump
on my ****
as you twirl
and you pump
-Spin Cycle

I may not be the best friend
My presence is seasonal
I skinny dip in chaos time and time again
Coming out stronger. Sharper.
Tempered by my own humility

I may not be the best friend
I forget to call and check in
Knowing you’ll find me when you need me
For my hearts radar is always pinging
With possibility of real connection

I may not be the best friend
Social cues go largely unnoticed
Preferring my sidewise reality
To the ingrained cattle calls of
Lemmings marching ever on

I may not be the best friend
For shallow waters and empty hearts
Hiding behind strangling walls
You feel are your protection
Keeping you in, and life out

I may not be the best friend
For my warning label does not read
Fragile! Handle with care.
It simply declares in red bold letters
‘Bravery Required’

Pocket lint was magic dust masquerading
2. If I kicked a rock down the street I would have to move it back otherwise it had no way to return to his friends
3. Music made storms go away
4. Bugs couldn't climb furniture
5. The next door neighbors back 40 held a secret gateway to other dimensions
6. Your belly button was how your legs stayed on
7. Moving clouds is what made wind
8. Stars were just holes that the light of heaven shone through

Everything is nothing
And yet all the same
Oh the way time plays
It’s silly little games

Free from projections,
Lumps, or indentations

Epidermis database is
Environmental interface

Temperature regulation
Largest ***** for sensation

Sun spit kisses
Bespeckle adventitious

Seven layer enchantment

Isolation of sensation causes emotional migration

Skin suit personalities.
They are fun to wear
But they are not the totality
Of who we are.
We all have intangible parts to ourselves.
Life is a chance to play a part
In a skin suit dance.
If you do not like your role
Try directing instead of acting.

What's up with our government
telling us how time and money's spent.
I work longer than 9 to 5
just to try and stay alive
Slaving away with no perks
Killing myself with endless work
No funds for flash, no time to play.
Hittin' the bricks 12 hours a day.
It's hard not to feel this rage
with this out dated minimum wage.
How about you give a ****
How many need to throw a fit
Let's trade places for a bit
And you can take these ******' hits
1 trill spent on the war on drugs
Only to find you are the thugs.

To the top once percent
Laughing at our torment
You misrepresent, you reinvent
It's a break of trust
with fraudulent intent

The fish bakes
in the sweltering heat of the sun
Its prison
a plastic tupperware container
three feet from the water.
It's jaws SNAP open
and shut as it gasps for air,
struggling
against death.
It's dying
baking
smell
lingers
over to me
as I sit and stare
while eating my
juicy green apple
I packed as a snack

A small girl in a big world, sorry as sorry can be.
Hair too thin, stupid, grin, and bruises on her knees.
She stumbles through each crowded street,
Barefoot dreams an scuffed-up feet.

Her voice is soft, her eyes unsure,
A heart too kind, a world too blurred.
She says she’s sorry just for space,
For taking up the smallest place.

Wishing she could jut belong,
But feeling every step is wrong.
Her shadow, long, her presence, slight,
She fades into the endless night.

But in her chest, a spark still burns,
A hidden strength with time to learn.
Though she’s small, the world is wide,
She’ll find her way, she’ll turn the tide.

S tretched
M outh
I lluminating
L ifes
E njoyment

I stand
As you dance around me
In circles
Snickering
“You think you can hurt me?”
I stand
“Is that your little fist balled up?”
I stand
20 minutes
You dance
And taunt
“Go on! What cha going to do?”
I snap
My hand leaves my side
Open palm finds your cheek
The ***** slap heard around the world
Echos
As I sail backwards
In to the wall
This is not the end of me
The is a beginning

The finest silk, I’ll wrap you in
As soft as charmeuse or a baby’s skin
A cozy morsel you will be
Waiting on my web for me

Play me like a drum
A crimson red rhythm
of handprint notes
pulsing on my skin

Let the games begin!

Words have always enraptured me
once written they become history
devour them I must
before they turn to dust
once more becoming a mystery

I'm not in my right mind
Or my left mind either
I'm spelunking in the chambers
Living in the vault

Her spirit was tousled,
unbuttoned and daring; brazen,
speaking in a wild language.

Let my poised obedience
Tip the scales and quicken your pulse

Let my body be a smorgasbord
Feast for your hungry eyes to devour

Let my silence speak in volumes
Resonating ardent desire

While your smile widens

Entwined around you
This is when you put me against the wall,
as if I'm a painting you've been dying to display

How easily blinded
by my own emotions
that I became the liar.
How easily deafened
by my own heartbeats
that I set myself on fire.

Honesty is a very hard thing to look at
Most people think they will burn
In the intensity of the light it casts
I promise it’s a cleansing fire
A rebirth

There’s a set of footprints following me
Over the hills and under the trees
Everywhere I turn they’re right behind
I’m pretty **** sure I’m loosing my mind
No matter my speed. No matter my gait
Keeping right up like my heart rate
I make a hard left and then a soft right
And still they persist, no peace in sight
I lower my gaze down to the street
And what do I find? The prints match MY feet

She devours the night
To starve the stars
Of the beauty the darkness shows

She hunts the shadows
Of slanted light
To keep as her mementos

People and places
Whispers and traces
Pages torn from books

Magic she seeks
Magic she finds
Missing no crannies or nooks

I try to creep from the bed
but instead you grab my head
and pull me back to you.
Back so you may pet my hair.
Deep asleep you still care
and melt I promptly do

In joy and awe I sit
In stillness, completely free
But when you look
A *** is what you see

Your minds and movements
Like busy little bees
Buzz buzz buzzing
Believing you are free

Preferring to race in circles
Blurred flower Grand Prix
Round and round you go
Spinning endlessly

I am like that flower
An unfolding trustee
Toward the light of day
Easy as you please

Comfort in my roots
I am the one who sees
In the rushing wind I sway
Dancing on the breeze

You do your best not to look
To you I am unease
To me you are a river
Of busy little bees

Unaware of your breath
A wasting disease
Letting everything define you
To varying degrees

I need not move a mile
Stillness my skeleton key
I need not move a foot
I am everything that I need

Starting with pointed toe
Taking time, going slow
Over supple calves all flexed
Coyly bending, waist reflexed
Keep on going, rising high
Inclining next to the thigh
Now it’s time to clip them in
Gently rubbing upon the skin
Seam all straight, let’s begin

Organic days of zig-zag light
Shadows deep as my resilience
She-wolf howls in the dark of night
Illuminating silent brilliance

I am strong enough to suffer

For every action there is a equal and opposite reaction. For one side to exist at all there must be two. The same holds true for words. Both their physical and metaphysical applications. In the above statement I am using the word suffer in it's opposite meaning of allow.

A unhealthy association of feeling transmuted to a healthy association of feeling. By being able to see it's equal yet opposite end I have changed the action itself. Words are not flat though neither are they robust but in truth as nuanced as we are with wrong associations for desired actions because they come FROM us. A self fulfilling circle. They have only the meanings WE attach to them.

It is also an action of love. To allow.
To understand our emotions and feelings are ours alone and therefore we are individually responsible for how we perceive and use them. To knowingly choose.

I think women are more naturally inclined to understand the concept of healthy suffering. Sometimes it could be described as Tough Love. It's tough love because of the heart. Suffering is like Allowing through the heart.

I am not attaching the emotional feelings of suffering that make you wince, roll your eyes, guffaw or any other such reaction to your understanding of it's emotional state to you. When I think of the word suffering I feel the feeling of allowing. Of choosing love.

The pluck from your fingers
Creates this vibrational hum
That ripples my length
And you expertly use
To tune me to just the right pitch
Jack be nimble, jack be quick
Jack, I buzz at your fingertips
One hand about my neck
The other strumming me
From my verse to my chorus
To my bridge arching through
My melody of “Once upon a time...”
In repetition
Until that singular moment
That suspends the echoing stillness
Of a firework paused just before
Total surrender of bursting out
Only to catch time once again
Washed in the awe of “**** yeah...”

1 less future regret
2 fingers on my pulse
3 steps to climb
4 stepped waltz
5 senses buzzing
6 minutes to puddled
My sUm total is 21
Then doubled

Sundays smell of intimacy
The initial easing in
The slow meandering journey to x marks the spot
Circling
Round and round
Anticipation building
Bodies sweating
Momentum heaving
The right timing
The right configurations
Jockeying positions
Hands grip and pull
Finding and riding the sweet spots
Exertion. Discipline. Determination.
My compass rose
navigated

Another salty Sunday sailboat race

All men want is to witness a woman in full genuine pleasure. To hold lightning in their hands. Pure, raw energy.
Women, *** really is all about you. You aren’t there to please your man. If you really want to please him then please yourself. Rock those hips, undulate and grind. Whatever it is that gets you there do THAT! You are the divine feminine. Tap into that **** and be the conduit. It makes all the difference. You become a shooting star, rocketing to heights outside of visible distance into the ethers of all that is and skinny dip through that magic. Ladies it does not matter how you look. If you can genuinely enjoy the pleasure of yourself for yourself it’s spellbinding.
The men. They just want to hold on for the ride. They feel it through you. They consume it with their eyes in our every little movement. Their hands feel it through the rhythm of our stutters and spasms. Their ears hear it through our moans and uncontrollable purrs. Their ***** feel it as you make him your own private slip-n-slide. What are you waiting for? Bathe him in your surrender.