*#@%&$!**#&#^$&@^@!*(((&)@###$&%^!!!

A song from a long time ago

Saw you on the water and kissed you face,
peppered perspiration seasoned to taste.

Winter freezes over, Spring you'll turn to brine,
Summer rests on my lips makes me drunk like wine.

Autumn leaves me leafless pages undefined.
Streets are marked with numbers
wish I'd swapped yours for mine that once upon...

debate

Rich woman: Is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?

Not rich man: No. The pain of grief is too much. If only I could turn back time....

what the stars suggest

Wherever there's now controversy, based on a conflict between seemingly incompatible beliefs, there's also the potential for reflection, leading to a wiser understanding and a more practical way to move forward. 

Cainer 17 May 2012

coffee

you thrill me

being your sunshine

was the most glorious time.

I've left now

and shrouded you in darkness.

If I've left to test you. How does this sun burn bright with such a cold heart?
If I've left to resist you. Why do I want to hold you in my arms?
If I've left through pride. Then I shall shrivel in hell for listening to the conceited logic threaded from my words.
If I've left through fear. Then may this cowardice never ruin another.
If I've left because I care. Then how can I watch you die?

I told you once, dear, I really loved you.
That we would plan a path unseen.
But now I've left you, not for another,
I've shattered all your dreams.

Goa?

A rich man asked.

Silence.

A rich woman replied.

Not quite poetry

For all I did not do

fuck me.

For all that I could not commit

fuck me.

For all the disregard and apathy

fuck me.

For my decisions are not always the right ones. 

Fuck me or I'll fuck myself.

rocket science

I realise I have long thought a relationship was seamless: a constant holiday, with morning kisses under brightly lit curtains and a soft cool breeze.

There would be no late nights at work. There would be no traffic jams. There would be no in-laws. There would be no second thoughts, no regrets, no uncertainty.

Despite first-hand evidence to the contrary, the idea persists.

The intellect screams "folly". The Realist, "Romantic!" The cynic, "fool".

But despite the cacophony, the idea persists.

And now, that a question of commitment again seems to loom with daggers to pin down my wings, the idea seems petrifying.

Then again it was always I who would work late. it was always I that had somewhere else to be. It was always I with the absent family. It was I with the second thoughts, regrets and uncertainty.

And it was I who left it all and took the holiday: waking up alone under sometimes bright curtains. Waiting for a soft cool breeze. Longing for a kiss.

She...

... is a little bit lost.

banalata

Why this series of middle aged men?

What youth or wisdom or stupidity does here shine that attracts them fluttering to the light? Again and again and again to the light.

I fear that I will burn them.

And I fear that when the light is dim they will fly away to softly caress another's curves.

Dull

Body wrecked and ruined.

Temporarily?

Hopefully.

The sun is setting in the middle of a long weekend. The sweet achievement of standing still is starting to heal the dismembered self that I look upon as me.

Love and strength to all.

J & K

This carnal world,

brings unlikely beings together,

fucking in the other room.

Violent tendencies

I am a fan of the hit and run.

To not stay on 'til morning.

To believe it is of no consequence,

nor sentiment.

Until it is.

And it rips out your insides.

Foutre

French wine, ofcourse.

Slow sex in eyes over appetisers.

Garlic come cream come fettucine come on.

Dhaka demure and Danone dalliances.

Riding home a whiff of sin and scandal scents the car.