Category: MG (Page 10 of 11)

Surrender, He Once Said to Her (A Poem)

February 27, 2018 / Tom

Unfettered, I wonder where she’d go,
Which cloud she would kiss,
Which dream she would chase,
If she’d fly to the Sunset, or the Sunrise.

Shadows play tricks on the ones who look behind,
Reliving tantrums of time that scarred the mind,
Playing in the mud that lay before the crimson fields,
Telling tales that mimic some misshapen lunacy.

Lovers snap their fingers to awaken others from a dream,
Tantric songs play in the unseen mist,
Sounds of ecstasy echo all around but yet,
Those focused on the darkness cannot hear, deafened are they so.

Sweat pours from my anticipating brow,
Chasing butterflies through the snow,
Falling aimlessly through the muck that others leave behind,
Chilled to the bone in the puddles of piss left strewn throughout the field.

I don’t know which way I am going,
The compass unseen still points in her direction,
Lost, yet forging onward on the path my heart screams for me to take,
Found, I wish she’d make this journey easy.

Smile before you kiss me – my prayer,
Tease me with your eyes before you cast me aside – my fear,
Whisper something sweet to me before the silence comes,
For I know my place among the stars, a spec hidden by the darkness.

Heaven plays its tricks on those of us who pray,
Strong, I have no need for such misplaced and sullen waste.
A lone wolf, I hasten passion upon the landscape,
You may sense that there is something coming in the rain.

Nothing, though, moves this wolf like her howls begging in the moonlight.
It pushes me onward, beyond my own perceived limitations,
The body would nearly die for a single embrace,
The soul would not know life if not for knowing her.

But alas, time moves on even if the wolf remains alone,
Graying hair, crusted with the ice of his own experience,
He needs nothing in return,
Not even a passing glance.

Though he loves her so, it is unfettered he’d rather see her,
It is the clouds where she belongs, even as his feet grace the snows of his own destiny,
Both betrothed to the places they have chosen,
Knowing eternity in their moments quicken moans of certain ecstasy.

Stoic as he is, he cannot be burdened by her choices,
The demons he has faced have made him strong beyond his fears,
No sorrow, nor loss of sight, has caused him to stray from his own path,
And so he honors hers with equal ferocity.

Tonight, he may not live to see the Sunrise,
But today, he lives like there may be no end in sight.
He shall forget his mortality to live among some other gods,
And strive for her affection as if she was the very air he breathed.

In the end the story shall be told,
Forgotten shards of broken dreams will no longer be a testimony.
How he lived and found her love shall be recited in the heavens,
How she remembered him shall be the things of lore.

“Surrender,” he once said to her,
A plea of pleas certain to heighten her arousal,
Meant to be nothing but a vow,
She would never need search again.

Did she hear him?
That is a story to be written,
Would she come?
That is a song yet to be sung.

Write they will.
Sing they must.
In Love, they have no other choice.

She Shall See Again (A Poem)

November 9, 2017 / Tom

Through twisted tales of Neverland,
A soul that’s born as thee,
Was told a lie that many tell,
That blind girls cannot see.

In misty dreams and darkened caves,
Her heart was bent and torn,
Yet through the dust and crimson grime,
A warrior was born.

One day to never doubt again,
One day to never bend,
A warrior’s snarl shall crest her lips,
When she shall see again.

She heard an honest poem once,
A man who loved her so,
She could not drop her sword and run,
Her shield would not let go.

Through words and whimsies she told those lies,
She thought that she was blind,
One day she’ll come to realize,
The blindness was in her mind.

One day she’ll rise to claim her throne,
She’ll decide just where and when,
In that moment a Sun shall rise,
And she shall see again.

~TG

Falling…

September 18, 2017 / Tom

I love her. I can’t help myself, and in the whimsical way I see her I dance and twirl in this love I have discovered. I’m like a lost boy, and I frantically search for calmness within the chaos that calls her name. Try as I might to escape her gravity, I feel like a wayward star that cannot help but orbit her entirely.

I’m not a boy. I’m not a sapling cowering in a pinewood forest, hiding from the storm among the giants. I stand tall within the winds, and hold my own against the ravages of a wild, wild world. I growl harshly at the malcontents, while purring softly in the arms of the truest love. I fight fiercely the demons that once wreaked havoc on my mind, and smile a radiance unfiltered when I hear her softly call my name. I am a warrior in this world, and surrender only to the notion that one day, soon, my lips will be what she searches for in the darkness.

I am not lonely, even in the deepest silences of my aloneness. I thrive in the miracle of my sunrise, never lost in the depths of darkness that shroud my breaking dawn. See, right there, in the darkest part of the horizon lays that single ray of light; the one that breaks the darkness, that slight hum that softly ends the silence. It is there I whisper her name, hoping one day I’ll hear her answer in reply.

We all know the toughest parts of unrequited love. It’s the longing kiss that never comes, the needy moans of desire that never echo in the night. It’s the moments when those lips seem to be calling, yet all we hear is the silence wandering aimlessly in the space between. It’s the moments when her taste overwhelms the senses, yet there is no spring from which to drink. It’s the waiting, the unanswered question, that seems to send shivers through the soul when you realize there is no other choice. You will be patient, even in your tantrums. You will surrender, even as you fight the bravest battle. You will not drink until she bends her cup to your lips, or the thirst takes your life away.

You have found yourself in the softness of her eyes, and discovered something else as you dance in her sweet embrace. Your dreams can see her writhe in pleasure, as your body responds to the illusion of her sweat pooling on your chest. You awaken all your senses as you dive in unconscious revelry, feeling her hips locked within your grip, her flesh taking all that you can give her. You find life in her salty taste, and purpose in the pleasure of her body and her soul. You were born to be her ship, and she was born to be your sea.

The dreams are sure to end, and you curse your open eyes. The Sun rising in the space just outside your window gives you hope. Perhaps today will be the day. Perhaps before the Sun rises again you will awaken from your dreams and plunge into her waiting soul. Maybe, just maybe, today will be the day the question will be answered and you can begin the story you’ve always felt being written in your heart. She will know you in your most vulnerable, and you will honor her in hers.

That is how I dream of her, and how I live to find that truth. Though a mist she may be today, perhaps tonight she’ll be a reality. The fog does not last forever, especially when the Sun decides it has had enough of such folly. Hands unite in their time, lips kiss at the appointed hour, bodies unite when the Moon sings her passion.

If she never comes, I have had her in my dreams. I cannot bend my heart to the whims of minds far beyond my own control. Rather, I trust the wind that unfurls my wrinkled sails, and the stars that guide my trusting rudder. I trust the compass that points me to the place I’m sure to go, and the path I chosen to get me to my destination. What the fog says I leave to the gods, for the footprints are mine, and mine alone, to make. Trust, to me, the process of my living. Just as an artist trusts his brush, though he knows it is his hand alone that guides it.

In that, I say good night.

What If…

September 6, 2017 / Tom

What if we both said “fuck it”, and dove in together? What if all of the thoughts, and experiences, and fantasies all led us to a single space, beer in hand, lips ready to touch?

What if the funny, odd jokes we tell are preludes to the moments when lay exhausted and breathless besides each other, waiting to relive the dance again?

What if I just forgot it all and kissed your lips with all of my heart and soul? It’s funny how beautiful a space can look when you clear out the cobwebs, sweep up the dirt, and wash away the dust. It’s wonderful how lush a seeded knoll can be when watered from time-to-time.

What if I just left the blankets on the bed, left crumbled by a story we told each other the night before, certain to be disturbed again by the stories we are writing during the day? What if we promised to let the sweat barely dry, and the water in the tub never get cold?

What if we lived in a perpetual soreness that match our eternal ache? What if a glance is all it took, a whisper was all we needed, to relive the promise we never had to make?

Yeah…what if?

The Magnificent Goddess

July 10, 2017 / Tom

She’s beautiful, like a spring forest,
I am unable to speak in her visage,
Fumbling for words, am I,
My own thoughts betray my stoic form.

Soft, like the snow brushed softly on my winter’s canvas,
She’s there, in my soul written through my hand,
I can taste and touch but I cannot feel,
For close though she is, the distance divides us still.

My heart bleeds upon these pages,
Profuse as am I, inconsolable in their desire,
The Magnificent Goddess I cannot embrace,
Yet cannot seem to let go of.

Lonely Sigh

August 23, 2016 / Tom

Forever Only You

August 19, 2016 / Tom

A Testament to You (A Sweet Awakening)

September 5, 2015 / Tom

My breath is still gone, having escaped my body at the very sight of you…

Yes, I’m captured, bewildered, sunken in the sweet sands of adoration. I’ve fallen, softly landing on the ground at your feet, looking up as if gazing at the Sun, blinded by the light of something so very special. As I stand, my feet embrace the soft ground where you stand, and I know I am where I am supposed to be.

It’s not new. This energy has coursed through my body each and every time I’ve seen you. Even in the distance, every new moment is a testament to something I can’t explain, something I can’t describe. Waves of emotion cascade over my powerful form, taking the energy of time and experience and replacing it with something so much stronger, so much different. It’s as if I am remembering a lifetime I can’t recollect, living a dream that I know I’ve had before, yet can’t remember when.

I study the lonely clouds that swoon in the dark blue sky. I feel the light summer breeze tickle me, and share a moment with the Sun as it warms me with its touch. I feel alive in this moment, soaking in the power of each second, the potential of each minute, and the glory of each hour. I look up, again, in the direction my heart demands and there you are, smiling, reminding me of something I have no real memory of.

But the feeling…it’s there, and it’s real.

I don’t know where it came from. I have no idea why it’s here. I just know it is very real, and the more present I get in the moment the more real it becomes. I don’t care about man-made obstacles. I don’t care about the rules others have written. I don’t care what “comfortable” feels like. I just know what is there, what is here, and I know I have very little control over its demands. It leads, and I must follow.

So, if you will have me I will take you. I will stroke your hair with loving hands. I will kiss your lips with an eager mouth. I will taste your body with unequaled desire. I will love you until you are spent, and then love you some more. Then I will lay with you, in the completeness of a harvest moon, and I will hear your words, embrace your thoughts, and absorb ever morsel of you that is offered.

I will see you naked and unashamed, and you will feel desire only insatiable emotion can provide. You will dance in the memory we share to a song we’ve written long ago until the moment picks us up again. Then, our sweat will again mix, our sounds echo through the empty caverns of our lives. You will know the liberation of a love that goes beyond our flesh, and you will fly in the realization that the wind loves you, and only embraces you to lift you upwards.

If only the mist would make you real. If only the desires of a man laid silent by the vastness of his dreams could have you rise up within them. If only the winds of love that course through my soul at the sight of you could lift you from your perch and leave you on this ledge with me. I would look into your eyes, beg of you to let go, and let love take us where it may.

So, please jump when we arrive. Let go and fall. I will catch you, and your landing will be glorious. Rest your head on my shoulder when the tired times come. Hold my hand when the demon rushes into your mind. Kiss me when you need to taste your lover, and then take me to the gates of ecstasy. There, will break those gates to pieces, and share the spoils of sweet surrender with the stars that guide us.

You will ask me what I see. I tell you tales of the power of happenstance; the power of possibility presenting itself like an unopened flower in the fields where you stand. I see the shedding of mortal ideas in my visions, replaced with the shroud of divine immortality. I see a tree not knowing itself until it touches the Earth, a bird not knowing who it is until it finally jumps and kisses the sky. I see you, smiling in a way that innocently sets my body on fire.

I feel you in my embrace, held tightly by arms made strong by time and powerful by desire. I feel you sink into me and let go, knowing that what is wrong to man is right by something much, much smarter. I feel you take me in your hands and guide me in, and I feel you filled with something only I can give and only you can take. I feel your flood of fulfillment, the release of my intention, and a sweet awakening showing itself in a bluer sky, a softer flame, and a harder stone on which we carve our names.

There we are…perhaps. One of a million possibilities, one straw in a haystack of potential. I can hold that single strand of hope tightly, or let it go in the winds that surround me. Either is a testament to you, and either is worth the risk of being wrong.

Wrong. I laugh at the suggestion. To which mind will I bow to that suggestion? To the one who clamors for security in an illusion? The one that creates rules to keep a beloved in a cage? Or the one that roams free among the imprisoned?

I like the rules of the rule-less, those who are built around a sense of discipline where words are never spoken and time is not a guide. Can’t we make a home there? Can’t we roam those spaces together, devoting ourselves to an inner truth not written by the hands of other men?

In the truest sense freedom is a testament to you. In the sacred sense liberation is the sweetest of awakenings. Taste it, live it, and never wear those chains again.

Through The Peephole

March 19, 2015 / Tom

Through the peephole I saw you. You were dancing, wildly, joyfully, with a purpose that seemed to have no purpose at all. I could see your body move beneath the thin fabric of your dress, and I could hear you pant loudly at the effortless exertion of your dance. You were in bliss, and although I swore I could hear your heart beating loudly in the distance, I stayed back, allowing you your moment where you thought no one was looking

Through the peephole I saw you. You were laughing loudly at the ether, sharing moments with the Sun as you twirled to Heaven’s sound. Your lips glistened with the anticipation of each coming note as your hardened nipples gave testament to the pleasure of all that just had passed. I could feel my excitement build as each part of you that sang touched each part of me that heard your song.

Through the peephole I saw you. You were moving lightly as even gravity seemed to not have a hold on you. There was no effort in your motion, and it was like nothing existed outside that room you had found, where you could be hidden and yourself without the telling glances of the world around you.

My tears came spilling through the peephole. I fell in love with you that instant, knowing you as you were before the roles you play for me were born, before our universe became filled with the power of our minds. I wanted to dance with you, but then you’d see me too, and nothing would be the same.

I both hated and loved the door through which I gazed. It kept me from this you I saw, and I hated it for that. Yet, it gave you security to dance to the great unheard song, to laugh to jokes not yet told, to fly among the clouds that saw fit to meet you there. For that, I loved that door, and I gave thanks for the little spec of light that brought me there through my darkness. Through the peephole the light will shine, and through the peephole we would shine if only we’d stop looking at the door.

It’s through the peepholes of our lives that we find life, and through the doors that we find death, and in the walls around us the holes by which we can make our escape. It is when I see you that I see me, and when you fly it is then I realize I, too, can be free.

The Nether Times Between (A Poem)

August 27, 2014 / Tom

You bewilder me with your smile

Your tender mercies

The way you effortlessly glide through the Ocean

And care for your sugar sands.

You tease me with your hidden treasure

And take me to places I want to go

Begrudgingly, unknowingly I sail beyond my complacency

Past the line between night and day.

When will I tell you?

When will I let you know?

Never. Or perhaps I have already

In little songs only you can hear.

Goodnight twilight, good morning dawn.

And to the nether times between

I worship those holy moments beyond my storied fantasy.

The moments when you appear. The moments when you fade away.