Intimate Compositions

Lady of The Night (The Allure)

May 24th, 2018

A lady of the night. Extremely beautiful and calculating. Her heart is as cold as a Siberian winter. So many men have encountered her, only to witness their own destruction. Their souls gone forever, never to return. Her beauty is uncanny. She is always draped in the finest materials. Her nails are manicured to perfection. Her skin is radiant and beautiful; her face gorgeous and alluring. Her hair is long, conditioned, and wonderfully curled. Her selection of perfumes are a rare and irresistible pleasure. Her eyes are captivating and she has hypnotized many men with her gaze. Her lips are inviting and adorned in the most complimentary of colors and glosses. The tone of her voice is soft spoken.

No one really knew her story or background, only the rumors that were whispered in dark corners by men and women who had come to know of her endeavors. It was said that she was a lady of the night who took the souls of men; it was conveyed that she was irresistible and many men fell by the wayside after dealings with her. Rumor had it that she left many powerful men in financial ruin and made addicts of men. Addicts of her attention. Addicts of her sexual prowess. Addicts of her perceived love, and her powerful attraction. Still, many men pursue her to no end, as caution is thrown to the wind and reckless passion abounds. What they wouldn’t give for a night of lustful desires fulfilled where nothing is of limits. A night of excitement with a beautiful woman of her skill and talent. Only once have I spotted her; one glimpse of her was enough to invigorate my wildest and most lustful imaginations.

Without a word spoken she had mesmerized me. Incredible. She disappeared like a ghost before my eyes and I never saw her again. I shuddered at the thought of being totally captivated by her. The fate I would no doubt suffer if I was caught in her alluring web. My brief hypnosis wore off and I came back to reality. Still the curiosity in me needs to know her story. I want to know the reasons her heart is so cold. How she came to acquire her skills and prowess. The story of her upbringing. At least a name?
The Will of My Vengeance

May 24th, 2018

A black ant crawls around in search of sustenance. I live in perpetual darkness. I am plagued by snares and pestilence. I have been abandoned by all who have claimed to love me. Family means nothing now; friends have become hated enemies. The world has taken a front row seat to my misery; they drink their wine and sample hors d’oeuvres with a scowl on their faces. As I make my entrance on stage, they laugh and jeer with foul breath and discolored teeth. I am mocked mercilessly by the horde of disgusting and worthless scum.

In the midst of their mockeries and outbursts, I sit and keep my silence. The inner workings of my mind record their atrocities. I detail and finalize the ways of their destruction. They parade me around in their congregation as they put my suffering on display. Loud cheers are heard as they exploit my vulnerability. They are jubilant and euphoric in their wickedness and immorality. They feed on my misery like parasites. The gluttonous filth fill their bellies and come back for more.

I have nothing left to give. I cry out as anger overtakes me. They fall silent and stare … I curse them all to hell. I will survive; I will survive it all. I will uproot them as a violent tornado uproots trees. I will swarm them like aggressive African bees swarm their prey. I will upset them. I will make them pay. I will destroy them. I will upset their very spirits and souls with curses and vile rhetoric. I will make it difficult for them to sleep. I will have my revenge.
Ghosts of the Past

May 23rd, 2018

I have walked through the fires of affliction

I have swam the deep waters of despair

I have Flown in the winds of suffering

I have endured the storms of pain

I have survived the earthquakes of illness

I have overcome the avalanches of doubt

I have escaped the floods of misunderstanding

I have conquered the tsunamis of betrayal

I still war with the ghosts of the past.
A Mother’s Love

May 23rd, 2018

For nine months you carried me. Wrapped in your warmth, I felt your heartbeat. I was in tune with your emotions, every feeling, every sensation. Suspended within your womb, I traveled with you; Mom, where are we going today? I asked, but I was never sure if you could hear me. I hear this sound outside. It’s getting louder and louder. Suddenly I want to move; I want to dance . . . I am euphoric! I am rhythmic! I can’t help myself now! I’m kicking and spinning! Then you said: “What has gotten into this baby?” “This boy is really kicking.” We were intrinsically connected. I relied on you to feed me and nurture me. You were my life source; I was totally dependent on you.

In those months we bonded, I could feel the love you had for me, and it was comforting. It was a tranquility that the moon and the stars couldn’t explain. It was beyond comprehension how your voice soothed me; a restless life, at times impatient to make my entrance into the world. I wonder if you could sense me smiling, or perceive my happiness and contentment? I’m certain you could. I’m sure of it. That connection; that sacred connection between mother and son. That unbreakable bond; that love and care. That nurturing and the blessing that was you; that was us; I am thankful. I am joyful.

A physical cord that once connected us, that umbilical cord of life, that once fed me, and that conveyed our thoughts and feelings to each other; a beautiful work of the Lord, of his creation, and of his gift, has now become a spiritual cord, and I still need your love and your comfort. The comfort of a mother. A natural nurturer, a cultivator of life. Your smile. Your cheerfulness. Your spirit. Yes! I remember the times you spun me around the room and you danced with me! The many nights I felt the rhythm of your breathing; the days I could feel the rub of your hands against me; your singing and joyfulness. The days you were worried and somber I didn’t kick as much, but instead, I settled myself and stayed quiet. I wanted you to sleep more, be relaxed and fully rested. Your life source was stronger than ever.

Finally I had arrived! I made my debut into the world with much fanfare and jubilation. So many voices. So many things in my vision embraced with warmth and love. You looked at me and smiled. Laboring for many hours, and staying strong, just so you could make the transition smooth and have me arrive on schedule. Wow! What a mother! What a life force! I love you. We spent only three years together. You transitioned to the spiritual realm, but before that transition you left behind a gift: your only son. You may be gone in the physical sense, but your heart abides with me. Our connection remains. It is unbreakable, and it is eternal.

In these years, I find solace in you. I find joy and peace in your memory. We will again dance together; I will again see your radiant smile and wondrous beauty. Your work is done here. I carry on the legacy that is you. An incomprehensible inner strength. A beautiful spirit that graced the world and touched many lives. You gave me life. I once lived in you. Now you live in me, Forever.
She Sleeps

May 23rd, 2018

Tonight I hold her. Tonight I kiss her. I keep her warm, and secure. Tonight I reflect on how we met and how happy we are together; tonight I cater to her. I bathe and caress her soft skin with the finest oils. Her favorite aromas and perfumes are selected. Tonight I massage her from head to toe. She is relaxed mentally and physically. Tranquility fills the room as light music is played. White silk against her beautiful skin is amazing. Her long hair is brushed back, and reveals the beauty and radiance of her face. I can’t help but to stroke her face and kiss her. As I draw her closer to me, there is an unexplained feeling within me, a deep feeling of love for her. This kind of love can’t be broken. I am in tune with her mind and body. I am in tune with her spirit. We are one. I have eyes only for her and she has eyes only for me. Arguments are left behind. Strife and anger are left behind. We transcend. We move forward in love and loyalty. It’s late now, and in my arms my angel falls asleep. Peacefully, she sleeps.
The Shadows (Her Silent Suffering)

May 22nd, 2018

Wailing voices. Voices that cry out with anguish but are heard by few. kept in the dark in quiet suffering, where there is a seemingly bottomless pit or black hole. A place where time is suspended and reality is turned on its head. Where sorrows are increased, and heavy burdens wear on even the strongest of men. Tears have been shed here; a vast ocean of tears abound. In the distance if you look closely, a woman can be seen sobbing in that dark place underneath the shadows. Her candle is lit, but dim. She turns away quickly to hide her face. She has been there many years, trapped in misery, and in the clutches of loneliness and self-doubt. In her hiding, she wants to be seen. In her quiet sobbing, she wants to be heard.
The Beauty In You

May 22nd, 2018

Homeless, down and out, but I see the beauty in you. Tattered clothes and deep pain in your eyes, but I see the beauty in you. Lost and forgotten, yet I see the beauty in you. Angry and confused, I see the beauty in you. Picked on and bullied; I see the beauty in you. Ostracized and laughed at; I see the beauty in you. Mentally ill and crying out for help; I see the beauty in you. Beat up by life and demoralized; I see the beauty in you.

You’ve made the wrong decisions, but I see the beauty in you. Without hope or love, but there is so much beauty in you. Depressed and lonely; I see the beauty in you. Tired and working two jobs; I see the beauty in you. Worried about your future; I see the beauty in you. Misunderstood and rejected; I see the beauty in you. Abused as a child and trying to overcome the mental scarring; there is a light and beauty in you.

Wracked with fear; I see the beauty in you. Cold and hungry; I see the beauty in you. Born disabled and derided by many; I see the beauty in you. Confusing sex with love; I see the beauty in you. Thought he loved you, but he abused you; I see the beauty in you. Living on the streets with your children with nowhere to go; I see the beauty in you. Disrespected, laughed at and ridiculed by so many, there is a light and beauty in you.

Crying in the dark and calling out to God; I see the beauty in you. Wanting more out of life; I see the beauty in you. Feel like giving up, but I see the beauty in you. Tears stream down your face and you cry aloud; I see the beauty in you. Your mother died and she was all you had; I see the beauty in you. Even as a child, there was always a light and a beauty in you. You’ve contemplated ending it all, but there is a bright light in you. Feel like the world is against you; I see the beauty in you. You just need to be held and loved; there is so much beauty in you.
Behind The Eyes

May 22nd, 2018

Fear. A virulent plague penetrating bone, bore deep down into the bone marrow infecting exceedingly efficient, poisoning the blood stream. It shows no mercy to its hosts, leaving behind a shell of what was, or what could have been. Rendering its verdict with lightning speed before withdrawing to its place of darkness, where many like it exist. Day and night they feed on their hosts with unrelenting hunger. The ugliness, the unsightly ugliness of it is hard to fathom. Its trail of carnage is the making of nightmares; the stench sears one’s nostrils. Victims stumble around in the dark on cold nights searching for release and relief. The bottle becomes a close friend and narcotics a savior. Street lights tower above and witness their moments of slight reprieve. The sounds of splintered glass under shuffling feet signal their hour of desperation. Passersby look on in horror, but render no aid. Rodents display red beady eyes as they peer out of dark shadows to bear witness to the mire. Eyes, it is in those weary eyes, that you see the pain and plight of the sufferers. The eyes that look through you, the weeping, the misery. The thousand-yard stare is cast and it is frightening, almost crippling. Fear and anxiety are the masters of their torment, their faces are the faces of sorrow. Tears stream down weathered and wrinkled flesh, despondent faces indeed tell the tale of their wretched existence. Stories of a lifetime told in the blinking of an eye; the harrowing details of which can frighten the reader and instill fear in the listener. Fear, behind the eyes is where it dwells. Behind the eyes, is the place of their torment.
The Worlds

May 22nd, 2018

A barren and desolate land where tumult and disquietude pursues you to no end. A place of deep darkness in the vastness of the other world. Crows spread their wings and navigate their way through thick putrid air. Their piercing cries and calls can be faintly heard in the other realm; their dark feathers conceal them from sight. Only an occasional glow of the eyes can be seen. I can see the other side, almost touch it, but I cannot cross over. Invisible shackles hold me back. For years I have sought to destroy them, but most have proven elusive. Those close to me have witnessed the shackles. They see them clearly, and they have toiled endlessly to release me, but alas I still remain in bondage. Strangers jeer with presumption; I cleave to hope with frayed thread. My movements are controlled and orchestrated by unforgiving and unseen forces. They render me lethargic and wilted. Obscurity has been an unwanted friend and we have abode now more seasons than I wish to count. The portal to the other side grows smaller and smaller by the year, by the day, by the hour. As the hour is upon me, I am incessant in my pursuit to reach it, to break through the dark layers and let light flood in. Will anyone assist? Is anyone there? My own echoes confirm my plight. I am resigned to my fate. Miraculously, fire still burns within me. I must conceal it in a secret place, lest the crows and whisperers of the night gaze upon it and uncover my resolve.
The Lonely Hours

May 22nd, 2018

He reaches for her, but she is not there. Her scent still lingers in the place she slept. Strands of her hair are found on pillows. Again he reaches for her, but she is gone, never to return. In the late hours he sheds tears. Sleep has not been a friend to him. Peace has left him. Happiness has eluded him for two winters now. He is lost in the innermost workings of his mind. Hopelessness rushes in like water from a broken dam. Even though he puts up a strong barrier, it presses against the door. Waiting to invade his thoughts. Waiting to wreak its havoc.

He can withstand it for a time, but only for a time. Maybe he will make it through winter; maybe he will see the bloom of spring, and feel the warmth of summer. Still it waits, bearing down its full force upon his will, taunting him, laughing at him. He misses her; he misses her so much. Tears flow once again at the thought of her memory; her soft touch. He is tired. He is so tired. His movements are slow, and his will is weak. His barrier cracks and splinters.

Hopelessness seeps through. It is followed by loneliness. Depression makes its entrance. Following closely behind are fear and anger. They slowly wind and make their way through his system like poisonous molasses choking his life force and corrupting his once endless energy. A beautiful garden is turned into an unsightly bed of weeds, and waterfalls are dried up. Ripe fruit is turned rotten and given to the worm. He is tormented day and night. He seeks rest like a wild scavenger seeks food, but there is none to be found.

Darkness surrounds him and misery peers through his window to bear witness to his demise, but he remembers her warmth, and their time together. He remembers her laughter and her joy; he vividly sees her face and the light of her life shines brightly in his being. The movie of her love and life play in his mind, and he is strengthened. Her glowing face is amplified in his thoughts and his joy comes back to him. Fear and anger dissipate. Depression is trampled. Hopelessness is utterly rooted out and destroyed. Only loneliness abides. He misses her.