Hot Wax

Hot Wax

Warning: this is a link to a series of erotic poems

Daylight savings

Nov. 2, 2014

The cold touches the morning

For the first time since spring,

Coming a full day after a heavy rain

The chill of wet still lingers in me

Even after the streets have dried

And so I stumble into the new day

With an extra hour, limbs stiff

And an acute sense of feeling old,

Each season decreasing

The time left on this mortal coil

And paints my consciousness

With a dim shroud extra daylight

Cannot possibly illuminate,

For a time when what I do

And changing seasons will cease to matter

We bundle up against a chill

For which a coming spring cannot cure

And we prepare for an afterlife

We know nothing about, only guesses,

If only we could turn those clocks back

As easily as we did today, live backwards

The way Merlin reportedly did,

To know the exact measure of our existence

So we might parcel out its pieces better

Letting far less of it go to waste,

I have already outlived most I thought of as dear

The curse that comes with survival, if not old age,

And how lonely it becomes when one

Has seen the last of those who have come before

And have no one left to comfort me

When my time comes.

Free bird

Thursday, November 13, 2014

I hold it up in both my hands

This trembling, feathered creature

I can identify only as a bird

Because it has wings,

Broken wings on which it

Cannot fly away,

But will the moment I mend them,

The way it must

Its soft touch lingering

On the tips of my fingers

And on my lips as I wish it well,

Aching to touch it again,

And again feels its softness

Against my calloused palms,

Feeling its warmth against

My warmth,

It breathing my breath

This precious moment

Caught in an instant

And release, this heart break,

This lasting gift that

Must be given away,

Real and unreal,

Previous, but not possessed,

A dream dreamed

But not forgotten,

A memory so vivid

It always seems real,

My wings broken like its are,

My heart throbbing

With the same need,

My gaze fixed upon it

As it sails into the sky,

A bird with wings

Then just a dot

Against the brightness

And then gone.

Sugar and Salt

Friday, November 07, 2014

When they take you over

It is never for good purpose

An iron fist hidden

In the velvet glove of love

Nor is the salt spread

As sweet as sugar

But rather like Rome did

To Carthage under Manius Manilius

Designed as conquest

And to spoil the landscape

For future growth,

They needing you to need them,

Shackling you with mind-game chains,

Shaping lies into images of truth

Until you can’t tell the difference,

Turning love on its heads

And loved ones into enemies

We are not,

So that you have no one else

to turn to except for them,

no one who can help

when the fish finally shows

from under the glove

and you realize that this is not love

but something mean and evil,

by which time, it is all you have

and cling to it drowning

in Sugar and salt

convinced that

bitter is sweet

until you learn to like it.

The void inside

Saturday, November 01, 2014

I dress up each time in my mind

A carved out face with fixed smile

I don’t always believe

The sawed teeth of the carving knife

Still evident on each deep slice

A candle lit inside of me

Making my eyes glow

Filling the empty space inside

I hope each time to fill

With something more substantial

To replace the substance removed

Not love or lust, but existence

The day to day of it,

That face that is a real face

The heart that does more than tick

A life that is more than a jack a lantern

Propped up to scare kids

As they come to my door for trick or treat

We living our lives with fixed expressions

Actually believing there is nothing else

When there is always so much more

Out there just beyond our finger tips

Something to fill the void inside