...without leverage...

There is mystery that lives within memories, they teach us to develop keener senses
To explore soft meanderings down pathways that branched off and away from all we never knew
What more in life can we say has pleasured us beyond the marriage of body & soul?
It is within ourselves that the finest match be made; to take what we have known into refinement.

I clambor in thought, freed from yesterday
In time I fell away from such deeply-rooted attachment
To linger in the arms of memory must be done in slight moderation
I grow weak with the faint reminders of aged caress.

There was a time when 'wild' made the most sense
When the fusion of who we were demanded we become Generals to the army of our bodies
A new machine in my youth, strong in my motion,
Yet lacking in wisdom; of course, that is the very Nature of the Beast.

Think not to assume that in wandering away from such reality, you'd be remiss
For understanding who we were within the birth of 'responsibility' we are akin to many things
I see my shadowed actions from that time and long to console my own haste
Lift free from that past, all the dreaded hope I followed, kissing still- the hope for others.

In twenty years time I have developed keen sense to memory and the well-oiled muscle of wisdom
On the brink of 40, I find rapture in everything that eludes me
For I have come to understand a new beast, the nature of which is ever-so-slight and yet-
Yields power unlike any other...

Tomorrow is a vague mystery, I rest the night prior in the event I may earn its subtle awareness.
I am aging in a way that I find love among my own humanity and rest within that freedom
Contained are the many voices of want & need, aching to be relieved within their confinement-
They stand tall without tilt; virile and 'conditioned'.

I am kept at bay for many damn good reasons, responsibility at the forefront.
I played hard in my beginning, well aware that actions invoke many-layered consequences.
I'd give nothing to trade my time already spent, for the visceral memories that yet excite & ejaculate
Reverberating for years on end; in infamy, love and quiet consolation.

It is that very yesterday, filled with buxom love and unrelenting forces
That granted me the tools to inhale and discover every elusive answer to be milked
From tissue that bowed and stretched and even, ever-balked without tearing.
I have conformed to all range of emotion and fell back in line with the need to continue, unbroken.

Uncertainty; archaic and unwanted. I take the hand of all I am yet to encounter
Firm, with a grip that I am willing to toil to great length to gain control of, for I have had my fun
Youth was meant to be squandered, exhausted, enraptured and even abused...
Under the moon of immaturity, we gained our hindsight; the very 'trial & error' we now wield.

I march forward with undetectable footsteps, elusive as the honeybee's wish to go uninterrupted
The pollination of my own dreams shall reveal themselves when articulation seeks a presence; Known.
The Cosmos may demand in its own voluminous understanding, that all 'quality' coasts
Relaxed in its own omniscience.

I am but a laborer of my own understanding, to be thrown askew of that concept-
Detrimental. I write to reiterate to myself, all that I understand and on a daily basis- metamorphosis
Rolling with the punches has never been made more easy than to give slack where it is due.
Understanding is transient in its meaning, conforming to that alone? The very point in life.

Falling victim to the beguilement of our own arrogance and ego is a foolish face-plant
We are older now and though the lustre of years has conditioned us to 'know better'
'Best ye have it within ye, to remain childlike in the affliction of love'
For to love when love burns brightest is to also roam free from the fear of all that ends.

Love without risk is pointless... A dam without leverage seeks nothing
And so it remains futile... weightless... dead.
I wish to come alive in my own understanding; and so I shall
Set free from all boundary that once held meaning and now- holds nothing.

Gentle is the wind that floats about naked shoulders, aware of its unclothed state and still smiling
Free from the tyranny of society and the break from all that that implies...

I

There is a spilling of ink in every thought, unnoticed.
If I don't give myself due, what is the use of understanding?

Neglect is a tissue made for tears;
One that floats dry, devoid of purpose

Moisture was meant to milk itself-
...and so, I allow it.

Lessons Learned.

There is a smooth inscription living alongside hindsight
Within the trance of foolishness, will it often go unnoticed
The backlog of so many moments before, is weighed down significantly
By superficial dilemma; all of which lie dormant, to be risen only if-
The psyche shall see it fit to remind us of past folly.

In a Time...

What is the motivation behind meaning...?
What can be said of thoughts that go unheard?
The naked eye is unabashed in its own free reigning field
Left to nothing but the scent of it's own desires,
Floribunda- unknown to man.

Rapture is a formidable noun when one defines without boundary,
The length of their own needs.
Not in tune with what may be out there, in the great wide open of-
The Human Race.
But instead, what we are made of; as defined by what it is we think we need.

Strip the carcass of feeling and we are left dead
Devoid of the purest form of magic known to man- Touch.
The warmed hand of care can turn a hardwood surface into cooled lava
Melting slowly, 'neath limbs that lack the foresight to wait until proper 'means' arrive
The admiration of 'impulse' grows in value, along with every grey hair that I call my own.

To explore my thoughts without relief, I challenge years of self-made taste
Refined in the ache of escalating energy that seeks exit, contained further by the absence of action.
I choose to challenge those decades past; where my musing granted respite from the body's voice
When I was comfortable to wallow in lust without defining which flavors triggered what
Causing habit-forming inclinations that once the vibrating muscles relaxed, woe befell me.

There is yet a lifetime to be lived now that age has defined with conviction, what truly consoles
I seek 'myself' to satisfy a heart that beats in moderation now, years after calming storms of love
A tempest I once knew has left his mark; indelible. To which I pay continual homage
I took a trade from his wrath, gaining valuable ground with every step I walked, away from his heat.
No matter how far or away from this life he has flown, he yet lives within me, and I in him.

I need no more than the prudent wish to remain open to life; to live with organs that prosper
In health I travel, veins flowing with equal force to places where mature feeling lie in wait
There is no guarantee of tomorrow, held in yesterdays earned behaviour,
There is only 'now', a place where I can coast in comfort, safe within my own resolve.
...and yet, for all my contemplation... I am aware.

Aware that 'round every bend there lives tomorrow; a window protected by insight
To see what lies before me and feel capable to lift and push, up-up and away
Into the day that wants 'life' with each moment, up further into a night-
That loathes the lonely but prevails in spite of its own distance
The stars create friction with my heart and again- I am alive within my own purpose.

I am set free in my own maturity, a lifestyle earned through many years of trial and error
Vindicated by the ever-constant indulgence of exactly when to know what mood is appropriate
In a time like- Now.

...

Organic accumulation builds between us.
The spontaneity of our rapport gives birth to legions of
Unspoken sentences, perfervid and pure.

Popsicle

Slowly fallen away, encased still to thicker degrees
Warmed by latest events, sense of self is refining
I need the gentle tapping on my hide-
It sets free those jailed assumptions that lurk
Seeking to fuck me.

Shoulders that strain beneath stoic indifference
I know the substrates that fall in line-
Layer after layer of invisible intrusion
The gossip of my fear-bound willingness is
Loud & overbearing...

I want to kill hesitation
I want to suffocate reservation
I wish to drown limitation
and divorce in solemn commitment-
The woe of the 'judged'.

Knotted veins continually choke
There is purpose in all that past offense
The balancing out of yesteryear will penetrate my tendons
My thickened skin- elasticized
Ready for ALL, 'wear & tear'.

I am yesterday: once wept and forgiven
Though the memory I hold now vibrates in freed relief
I am today too, standing tall in sporadic confidence
High on the prospects of the wish to 'move on'
Broken: behind me, repaired in understanding.

I am tomorrow, filled with promise; North & ever searching
I have sterilized all hidden paths that long to ensnare my progress
For after all, the 'sense of self' can be that rusty blade, craving to poison
My weakness is a part of me, understood and given due
Learned in detail, four decades worth of study

I am alive in the Now, knee-deep in my psyche
Examining the simple details of the beauty in life
The smile of my child, a curly ponytail, and
The profound happiness of a Popsicle in the Summertime
Soft & easy, warm, continual...

'Drawn Bow...'

I am whirling amidst the rumble of mainstream trivialties
Cooing for a lateral break.
Momentum building in every bended elbow,
Each tendon that reaches for stretch, clinging to 'further'.
A cumulus mass of finite boundaries, seeking to split fissures that lie hidden
Amidst the break of circumstance, there awaits exotic tangibles.

Canines become fangs within that blessed assumption of 'What if...'
Eyebrows that arch back like a drawn bow, furthermost tension taken
Looking to redeem all stagnating, muscular ache.
I long to be taken back to the birth of my carnal awakening
Peeled to the bone, when marrow became one with my senses
...and 'trusting myself' was alone- my greatest ally.

My needs are compact, stored away, at bay... contained.
I coddle their existence and contemplate greatness
The idea that collaborating with another may free me from the oblivion of my loneliness-
Is horse-shit.
What I need to do is snip my own reticent cables
That leave me bound to insignificant ideals.

Set sail on this ocean of self; a new quest revealed
Tickling fancies that flow freely, without the concept of 'undeserved'.
I am well deserved of all I tow within my wake these days,
Having paid the dues of a thousand painful yesterdays, my heart remains true-
Resilient, intensified, grown stronger in length and breadth

...and...

Evermore stout in its will to love.