I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. My words and notions will I hope respond in poetic verse of many genre and style. Come along and please share your ideas and insights. Thank you for your visit.


When Driven By Words

Have we been replaced?

the crumpled being in the corner mumbled,

to a jury of peers

who in quiet realize,

believe they will never allow themselves …


Yet his clothes are shabby,

the same pinstripe with a Jerry Garcia tie

pink button down oxford, and well-shined shoes,

he possessed years earlier,

during that last summit,

the day he resigned from today’s society.


Still, no one wonders where he is,

why he became,

how a life can turn beyond,

the normalcy of the human condition.

The new normal some might argue,

he might argue,

she might not care anymore,

given all the energy she spent defending

a frame of mind,

he no longer understood, or chose to wonder …


The idealism in surprise,

the beauty of spontaneity,

the sacrifice of one’s own belief system,

in order to complement

The Man.

We are all too easily duped

by pretty sights,

and warm surroundings,

to such a degree of departure,

we sometimes do forget …


the crumpled man in soft murmurs.

On Art Museums, Love & the Stage


There are places we like to be,

to find, to allow our selves to evolve

while others walk about totally unaware

of cathartic dreams.


Perhaps the man in crimson rendezvous is suffering,

yet all eyes would only imagine,

his to be an outward glance

toward a unique fire in his mind.


There is always love in the midst of pure artistic restraint,

caught in the canvas of our own study,

the desire to know, to understand,

to interpret wholly the reason being.


I walked inside an auditorium only to witness

beauty arise, brought me upon a newer plane,

a place where all our lives,

are meant to thrive within the dimensions allowed.


So do you walk, appreciate the grace of freedom,

the mind is gravy to the shadows

that take us on different paths,

yet seem to meet in the surreal atmosphere.


We are together always in tune,

in wonder, in delicious delight, akin

our lives, hearts, finding soul in rest,

will continue sweet illusion is love.


*Photo found on Time Out Magazine

No Longer

May not, cannot, will not,

I shant imagine otherwise,

whilst the world itself

in heartfelt harmony

must exist,

if I am to presume,

I will not know you well.

For the sanctity of a privacy,

life does grant opportunity,

yet only the beauty of grace

allow any deep felt sanity.

In words your magic is alive

in the pictures drawn,

the notion I derive,

yet apart, afraid, away from me,

I must realize the peace it be.

Cherish only the remarkable passion

we all live together, in want of fashion.

Finding Beauty





I choose the highlands

that reach toward the sky,

I live to know the heights

where my soul might linger

in a sweet peace of this world,

where it is I am in destiny,

the travels of my mind.

I know so little of what is time,

can only wish and dream perhaps

there might be a delight in line

for all of our heart felt agony.

I wonder often of failure

how the remark contains me

if it were just only a test

a limitless horizon of humanity

would it be so powerful then

once I might understand pathways.


I was once a child of a decade

where screen doors and trails,

soft breeze and playful friends

hot summers and weekend skis

the wisp of romance quite vivid

in the eyes of an older sib.

I remember then when life

could be as transparent as

the picture window in my home.


What happened to muddy the glass,

where is when I did suddenly

come to terms with losing idyllic

prayer and spiritual guidance?

How did I get to be so critical

of simply my own sacred humanity?

Why is it when I wake in the morning sun

my dreams become a starker reality,

a place where hope and beauty

always measured, isn’t a natural

course of my day’s mechanics?


I was watching you one evening

the music pounding my ears,

my body writhing to the rhythm,

yet you miles away in the heights

celebrating love, exploding sensuality

if I could lift my heart to you

like the potion driven magic

of my favorite never found chemist,

might I then find my peak,

while settling into ethereal arms

of passion and grace, would I with a smile

glance upon that valley of my dreams.


*photo credit – allen parseghian


Whispers in quiet,

breathing subsides,

she glances, eyes serene

leans over her, touches

cheek with lips,


she nods,



purposeful strength, will,

brief yet so intense,

long enduring eyes on eyes

the only connection

his cock moving inside her lips,


remembering when patience was easy.

Prism Life

Each line drawn specific

reasoned, planned

searching crossroads

open space designed

in quiet embrace

always following

simple on purpose

connect captured lives

when first parallel

next longing variable

yet all contained

prism life.