Sailing

And so this has begun
I am launched
All at sea
Desires unfolding
Like spinnakers
With the wailing wind
I am compelled
To leave the coast
By a sure guide
Sailing safely
Beyond the breakers
I am the figurehead
Brazenly exposed
Meeting my destiny
With an appetite
Previously hidden
And unlocked
Solely and serenely
By you
And your magic hands

Hollow

Stand steady
Power
Is not so scary
As it seems
It is simply
Not apologising
For being
Your own version
Of beautiful
While the hollow ones
Try tirelessly
To tear you apart
And stitch you
Back together
To serve their
Rotten wishes
Remain ardent
In your liberation
The choice
Belongs to you
Stand steady

Fait Accompli

Reclining
So utterly spent
And satisfied
Like never ever
Before
After months
Of titillation
And hours
Not watching films
By your side
Addicted
Desired
Happily trapped
In an ecstasy
Prolonged
Building not fading
Buttons deftly pressed
And pursued
I am prey
Gladly captured

In Loving Memory

Your lilac silhouette
Appears before me
In the dark times
Of discontent
Smooth strands of
White gold hair whisper
Across my palm
And your tuneful
Laughter lingers still
To remind me
Of your guidance
Your protection
From beyond the grave
Thank you dear cousin
Treasured eternally
In this clumsy soul
Shared forever with yours
Though we were parted
Much too soon

Solitude

A sanctuary
Borne of battle's end
Silent but for squalls
And secretive stirrings
Of the nighttime bush
It is the witching hour
When imaginings descend
Replete with shadows
Seductively gliding
Upon dimly lit
Chaise lounges
Ensconced in scarlet
Silks and sumptuous
Furs evoking fervent
Future indulgence
With one's particular
Favourite

Midsummer

A walled garden, fragrant with nighttime blooms. She was to wait by the statue in her kimono, barefoot.
She heard the key in the lock of the iron gate and her breath caught, suddenly anxious. He strode towards her, slowly, a strong silhouette in the pre dawn half light. She remembered to look down just in time; Sir found a direct gaze to be insolent, and she did not wish to be punished. Bruises to her thighs would be hard to explain at the beach.
He disrobed her swiftly, hanging the silken garment upon the statue's outstretched marble arm, before grabbing her by the hair and leading her to a nearby oak. He nudged her backwards, his hands on her hips, until she was pressed against the trunk. Goosebumps betrayed her excitement as she heard Sir snap open the locks of his toy box.
First came the collar of cool silver links, heavy on her throat and fastened with a smooth, worn padlock. Then came the clamps, sweet agony upon her hardened nipples. Finally, the rope upon her wrists and ankles. Arms above her head, legs spread, bound against the ancient oak, she felt calm and eager simultaneously, as Sir readied his camera.
Blinded by the flash of a dozen shots, she felt him before she was ready for him, and cried out. This earned her a stinging slap to the jaw as he buried his formidable cock deep within her. His teeth sunk into her soft breast, drawing blood, as his hands gripped her neck. She was wet, throbbing, dangerously close to the crisis, but he denied her, as he thrust with greater urgency.
He cradled her face as he came, filling her with warmth. As she panted desperately against his palm, he chuckled, and relented. "Now" he said, and she melted against him, the orgasm bringing tears to her eyes. Writhing in ecstasy against her restraints, she spied the sun rising above the stone wall. As her heart rate slowed, Sir released her and wrapped her in her kimono once again. He pulled her to him and kissed her hair. "Good girl" he said, as the sun warmed their faces.

This Time

Craving you
And your molten
Lava of a voice
And your touch
So confident and assured
Daily trivialities
Slip away when you
Beckon me over
And that smile
That electrifies
Your eyes and
My tender throat
Dares me to trust
My mind this time
This time will lead
To exhilaration
This time I will
Be me and not
Some cheap fantasy
Inevitably abandoned
This time I will
Burn brighter than ever
Brighter even than fear
And doubt

Raindrops

Winter brings you to mind
Hail dancing against your back
As you run to greet me
Cheeks flushed and breath
Sweet with mulled wine
Warm against my neck
Exposed so eagerly
Awaiting your kisses
Curls contained beneath
A tweed flatcap
Spectacles fogged and
Decorated with raindrops
Steady hands hot
On my hips
Ready to meet yours

Double Dare

The voice of fear
Teases me
The voice of courage
Drowns it out
Try me, it cries
I am fierce
And you will be defeated
Gloriously
Left to wilt
In your own putrid ashes

Thank you

You made me resilient
By being absent
You made me tough
By being cruel
You ignored me
So I am stronger
You belittled me
So I am smarter
Without you I would be
Weak, still that little
Princess, indulged and
Conceited, a snob
Without you I would be
Less than I am
Empty and unaware
Of life's stark contrasts

Awakening

Shrouded so long
In sadness
Now she has arrived
At hope
Harbouring her strengths
Hinting at happiness
She takes the first leap
Into adventure
Ever the vagabond
Merely stalled by
Circumstances unanticipated
She savours this rebirth
This gentle awakening
Of fearlessness
Gratefully reclaimed

Little Me

Looking back
I see a wiry young girl
With an old soul
Vibrating with curiosity
Flat on her broad back
Tanned legs in hand me downs
A head adorned with red ringlets
Green eyes shut in ecstasy
As Lady Day serenades her
She is conducting
With sure hands
Flexible fingers
Counting swung couplets
Dissecting chords with
A voice too big for her
Gospel pours out of her
As surely and readily
As raindrops from storm-clouds
She is obstinate with joy
And fiercely original

Poker Face

She yields
Not because she is weak
But because she is powerful
She relinquishes control
Not because she is delicate
But because she is robust
She kneels
Not because she is tractable
But because she is restive

She seeks the solace
Granted by subservience
She finds herself renewed
Through humility
She juxtaposes her vibrancy
With a gentleness
Revealed only to those
Who inspire its exposure
From beneath her vivid
Veil of pertinacity

Invisible

Passing through unseen
She succumbs to anonymity
Nary a ripple made
By her secret journey
Shrouded in salvaged gems
Invisible in her otherness
Vacant in her being
Who will dare to notice
When she turns away?
Who will claim her name
When she departs at last?
No-one, never, now
Or ever

Lancelot

My maternal grandfather
A larrikan
A balladier
Leathered forearms
Emblazoned with an anchor
And a swallow
Pinky fingers missing
Stolen by gout
He taught me arithmetic
And how to spell
Obscure words
His copperplate handwriting
Neatly completing crosswords
He sang like Dean Martin
And had a way with orchids
He wooed the birds
And transformed their feathers
Into magic tricks

Blood

Take a drop of my
Blood sweeter than wine
To sate your thirsty
Demons so loud
Come to me
Curl into me
Head in my lap
Worries in my care
And sink into
Precious silence
As we count
Stars and headlamps
Against a dirty
Horizon on the brink
Of revered nighttime

Me and Mine

I am not yours
I belong to me and mine
Yet you paw at me
Insult me
Objectify me
You ogle me
Humiliate me
Degrade me

You embody discourtesy
Void of manners
Void of class
Void of substance
I value myself
Where you deny me all respect
I am not yours
I never would be

I belong to me and mine

Help

I prefer to help myself
To provide my own
Safe space
Soft landing
Comforted by loneliness
I am free
In my solitude
To scream
Keen
Shed tears
Not fit for company
Hugs never hurt
But my healing
Is done alone
A private dance
To grief's tune

Days Like These

Days like these
When I'm delighting
In the lingering feeling
Of rope on flesh
My larynx releasing
Another octave into my voice
I think of you
Humming Curtis Mayfield
Your citrus scented
Breath in my ear
On a crowded Sydney train
That Darlinghurst terrace house
Where you brought me shiraz
As I luxuriated, bathing
Resplendent in my nakedness
Days like these
When I've once again
Hurt my jaw from playing
Much too much flute
Pushing those harmonics
Thinking in counterpoint
I think of you
Tracing the curves and edges
Your calloused hands
Slow and sweet
On a quiet beach near Bronte
That Darlinghurst terrace house
Where you brought me a corset
As I blushed, overwhelmed
Feeling unworthy of such attention
Days like these
I think of you

Courtesan

She does it for the pleasure of being essential
Not for the trinkets
Nor the treats
Presented to her with reverent gratitude
She has reinvented herself to suit perversions
A chameleon at every turn
As every man required a different shade of her
She has had so many now
She fears she has lost herself in their desire
But when he strips away the leather, the lace
The powder and the paint
She sees herself again
Blemished and mortal
On her feet rather than on a pedestal
She pauses to breathe
And commits again to serve him
The courtesan within her will always be victorious
She does it for the pleasure of being essential

Choice

Rise again, pixie queen
Do not yield to them
And their underestimations
As you were
You shall always be
An emerald rather than sapphire
A black pearl against a diamond
Quietly burning
Ever present
Ever courageous
Do not yield to them
Rise again, pixie queen

Surrender

When every word leaves me shamed
When everything I do is analysed and found wanting
I prefer to shoulder the guilt
I prefer to be silent and surrender

When all appears dark
When all seems to be lost
I prefer to remove myself
I prefer not to disgust you any further

When at last I have no more to give
When at last I am spent
I prefer to forge a new path
I prefer to keep my wicked self company

Silence

Silence is the healer
When synaesthesia colours every sound
The world through pain becomes much too much
Too bright
Too loud
Too hot
Stifling
Heavy and dense
Wading through great pools of oily sound
I beg for mercy
For quiet
Silence is the healer