A LONG, LONG WAY.

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From the start to the end,
it’s been a long, long way,
there have been bumps and walls,
blocking my way,
times that have been hard,
times that have hurt,
moments that have scarred,
emotionally and some that are blurs….

Moments to remember,
moments to forget,
people i have hated,
people i will never forget,
lovers i loved,
lovers i lost,
moments are fleeting,
i paid the cost…

From the start to the end,
it’s been a long, long way,
there have been bumps and walls,
blocking my way,
times that have been hard, 
times that have hurt,
moments that have scarred,
emotionally and some that blurs,

Some that always blurs….

POSITIVE ME!

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 Live in the moment
Not in the past
Nor hanker for the future
It’s a fantasy repast

The moment, might not be the finest
But it’s the now
Make it the best you can
Make it your vow

Don’t defer happiness by harking back
Don’t look to others
To mark out the track
Find inner strength, find joy full of colours

Live in the present
Learn, laugh and cry
This is the moment 
For you to fly

ADDICTED.

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He kisses my throat, forming prayers 
and I taste T. S. Eliot

his eyes teach the torches how to burn bright
and I taste Shakespeare

his ear takes new strange shapes from my tongue
and I taste John Donne

his heavy thumbs rest on my upturned sparrows
and I taste Leonard Cohen

he sheds my clothing till I’m slim with deceit
and I taste Carol Ann Duffy

his hands say I’m lovely, moving somnambulent
and I taste Seamus Heaney

he leans with love, reaching: white heat, a green river
and I taste Derek Walcott

he undoes all the knots, fingers like blind birds
and I taste Tracy K. Smith

He lifts me to heaven, waiting, listening
and I taste William Carlos Williams

he’s swimming in for the kill, almond-white
and I taste Ezra Pound

he bears me down adoring, like letting in light
and I taste Kay Ryan

we’re flying on ephemeral ions, writhing 
and I taste impatience (…I should be writing!).

THE FLOW OF BLOOD.

1 Corinthians 13:13

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What is the correct answer 
to a hopeless confession
of love? I say: Thank you,
Goodbye. The truth is, I’ve lost faith 
in the tip of my tongue to perform either act.
I say nothing. I say: It’s all an act,

and the greatest of these is
held hostage by the right hand
of a gospel verse, a bible belt 
unbuckled and a bone abashedly beaten 
behind the oblivion of organic lust.
Nothing begotten,
why I never last:

Driving home through the night from the Outer Banks
my heart stopped on the interstate shoulder,
after so many wrong turns, over-
dosed, arrhythmic, rushed
to a rural Ohio hospital by siren sins

to piss out the amphetamines
with the burning thrills of my last love, 
the mountain thrusts of our bodies 
just that: Infectious, unholy,
ridden with it. On discharge, I pulled out 

the nasal cannula, the intravenous drip still
dripping as if preaching the perils 
of stimulants for a weak heart
full of water and thicker fluids. What remains

in the silence that comes
after admission? I say: That took too long.

I say: Love,
a euphemism for the end, hardened.