My blood….on fire
Such passion…such zest…and feeling
My heart beats fast.
At the thought of you and love
At promise and needing
Such arrogant lust
Clothes strewn on a bedroom floor
And the taste of your sweat
And naked desire
And you light that fire
As I have never known before
I feel you enveloping me
Taking me in
Blowing my mind with
Raised passion as you take me
As I take you
Beneath you, above you, within you.
Feeling the heat of your skin
Against mine on a hot July night
Of moonlight and promises
Hearing my name on impassioned lips
As you hear yours on mine
Damp hair and whispered words
Eyes closed in joy
At my touch, and yours
Fingers stroking me
Before morning comes
Shadows from the moon
On our nakedness
On this bed of our love.
© 2018 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
I pay to live
Every single damned day I pay
A small part of me falls into the debtor column
As a small part of me dies
Every day I reap fear
Of my future
Do I have one?
Do I even deserve one?
Will I survive intact without fear again?
Happiness. Such a normal thing.
We say happiness without even thinking of its meaning.
Is it just a smile? Is it being in a place.
…. Where the heart is content?
Is it being with someone I can love, or trust?
Or having the safety of money in the bank?
….. no. It is peace with myself
Can I ever feel that again?
Can I be at one with me… with the universe?
Can I look at my face in the cold early morning mirror?
As I wash.
Even then I ask myself questions.
None can I answer with any satisfaction
None can I answer
None at all.
My life now is unanswered questions.
I even feel an answer may be death.
How I yearn for its sweet sweet arms
To kiss a gun… pull the cold steel trigger
How I wish it would visit me now and take me
In a final kiss
In a last touch of my cold hand
To wash down the brown bottle contents with whiskey
And need to question no more
Sweet bliss of darkness
Sweet finality of life’s unanswerable questions
I swear to myself that I won’t
I swear that I can’t.
But maybe it is the answer I seek.
Perhaps it is the only answer I can possibly hope for
Should I be a coward and refuse my penance?
Should I lay down and allow death to take my soul
… and my fear
… and my eternal unhappiness.
© 2018 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
Rescue me from mundanity my lover
You have always been on my mind, since I first never knew you
A hot Arizona night, walking an endless black top desert road looking at the stars above us
Each one a soft salty kiss on your dry warm lips.
The desert moon so full like a cold dead face hanging oppressively above our small lives, our blessed intense love.
Jumping a flatbed to Denver or Austin,
And us, sharing a pint of rot gut to keep the cold desert night from our hearts and welcoming Jack into our souls…
Wish Sal was here … Sharing the scent of our travel sweat. Dean too.
And through Missouri…Wish I had a crystal ball …
I could see your face so much better through the fog …
The clarity of knowing your troubled thoughts.
Travelling together …Carolina odyssey …White beaches, blue sea.
Reading my own lovelorn, lonely poetry to you under the shade tree …
In a town square, full of civil war memories…Oppression. Domination. Slavery
But we laugh it off…Both of us, we are no Martin Luther King’s to exorcise injustice.
Only mine. My own sad injustice. My own truth.
Lover … Meet me soon … You are too often in my crazy dreams. Never in my love enveloping arms.
Your face is always behind a veil of not knowingness
And I plead … Rescue me from mundanity my lover
A cold clear Scandinavian night … Jagged shimmering lights in a northern sky …
And you are with me … As always. Only a heartbeat away but so so far.
Holding my small work worn fingers in your own. I feel you now. I can imagine your warmth.
Tracing ‘Jeg elsker dig’ on the back of my hand with a slender loving fingertip.
Riding the train … A city … Somewhere … Entering a city … A no hope city … No trees, no green gardens.
Watching the evening lit windows from the train … Life going on out there in those small windows
In those rushing past snapshots … Secrets. Lust. Hate. Mundanity … Because it’s always there. Perhaps in me too although with you ….
I banish it … And, and, and yes, I am waiting for you…Please come to me soon my unknown lover.
Riding the bus in England’s sad heart.
Second city blues … Am I in my own lost England? Is this really my home?
Minarets fill the vista of a crumbling slowly disintegrating society … Full of dark faces. Foreign speech and unfamiliar ways.
I love them you say. They bring us our own destruction. New Anglo-Saxons… New invaders. You smile.
Slowly taking over … And you smile again and tell me a story about your younger years.
Lover I know you so well …We talk most nights … You hold me close …so close I can feel your heart, so close I can hardly breathe.
I can feel your sweet breath on my cheek as you whisper to me in my loneliness.
Is this to be my penance for not meeting you yet. My pain for this being away from you.
I can’t even imagine your name. I do try but it is always a quiet whisper away from me.
But I hear your voice and like everything in my life …
Are you too late. Will we ever meet or will we just pass each other by?
Will you leave me again?
Lover please … Save me from mundanity. And I will rescue you from a life of not having my kisses.
Not having my love, not feeling my heart beat beside yours.
Can you see me now? Can you feel me? Do you dream of me on your lonely nights?
Or do my word echo in meaningless voids?
Crying out but never ever answered?
I am writing this for you now. I compose this for you.
Do you know me? … and still I look for you.
A red grape … A crushed Tuscan dream. A red stain on you ruffled white blouse.
One button too many undone. Temptation?
Blood of your heart or spilled wine?
But a smile that says I don’t care. I will never care when I am with you.
Wherever we are. Whoever we are… whatever we are.
Yes. Oh Yes, our morning … Driving to some dead-end job.
I left you this morning … Skinny legs sticking out from under the duvet. Hair in your face.
A mess…But my mess. Love tossed bed … Chipped cup of coffee left.
And save me from mundanity. Lover Please save me now.
I can barely exist with this pain,
And moving on. Are you with me lover? Not yet?
Are you the same as me? Seeing sense in darkness. Love in a gesture.
Are you thinking of me now?
Are you missing me … still unmet?
Do you yearn for your unknown lover as I do?
And we travel and love.
A small island off the African coast. And different stars above.
And always we said. Where we are means nothing.
A snowflake on a spring morning
Yesterday’s newspaper, last year’s worries
But we will have each other. No matter where we are. No matter the things we do.
And save me from mundanity my lover.
But my lover I fret. Words taken wrongly on a drunken night.
Misunderstanding. Fear of our own feelings
Fear for our lives. And still I wait for you my lover.
And still I search and I knew I had found you. Did I?
A city of holy spires and river walks.
Of hope and love.
Of dreams and talks, but you fell.
You lied and misled for no other reason than hurt
And I lost you on a crisis ridden night
Your dreams weren’t mine
Your needs not as sublime
Mundanity went on, you weren’t the one.
And still on this cold English day
Save me from myself, and Mundanity lover.
Love is not dying away. Love is eternal.
Not fading or giving in
And I won’t lover. How could I give up hope so I seek you still?
And so now I move on … in your heart and your arms
In your love and your kindness
Is mundanity gone with Mid-Western dreams?
In middle America. Did my dream lie there?
My dream did my lover. You really did
But love warm sheets may warm again.
As warm as your hand in mine
Latte frosted lips may kiss again
My heart broke asunder one more time.
But you were the one.
Oh, my lover. You tease me so.
But you were truly the one.
You hide in my dreams, although you walk in my heart.
And I go on. Yearning for you lover.
And maybe destiny will still bring us together again
Or maybe cruel fate will forever keep us apart.
© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
After recent big changes in my life I need to write again but I am finding it so hard.The words are in me but I just cannot get them down on to the page. Even to open one of my unfinished works is hard.
I find myself just putting it off. Procrastination at its worst. Just finish this email and I’ll get onto it. Just clean this sink and I’ll be on the case. Just a quick sandwich and I will astonish the writing world with my new tome … But I don’t. My pages remain blank. My works in progress get staler and stalled.
It’s not that I don’t have the words, the ideas, the plots but they go no further than my mind.
I hate this.
A blank white page stares back at me
It mocks me, it scares me
So so many words … so many emotions in me
Struggling to find transition to print.
My biggest fear is to begin … to fail abysmally before I even start.
And with that awful fear I feel those beautiful thoughts trickle away
… to nothingness. To heartbreaking waste
Sometimes a few dry bones of creation flutter around still
But my mind fails to grasp them. They wither away to oblivion …
… and the page is still forever blank.
© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
Any of you that follow my Facebook posts and statuses will know of problems I am having in life at the moment… amongst them are searching for the elusive crap job. Also living in a town I despise with a passion.
These past two weeks I have felt that change in my life was about to happen and I have said that in status updates. This was not prophecy or mystic messages but maybe more the inner voice telling me to do something I suppose. To wake up and smell the coffee as I am known to say.
This morning I took a decision that I have been mulling over all weekend…well all week really. I went down to the local jobcentre to trawl for the latest minimum wage no hope jobs in and around Haverhill. After about 2 minutes I walked out totally despondent at the state of the economy and the paltry few jobs on offer.
And I woke up and smelt that coffee indeed. Costa Coffee actually as that is where I went this bright sunny morning. I sat and partook of a latte. Looking out of the window (I was at the window seat) I made up my mind. I knew what I had to do. Why should I stay in a town I don’t like? Why should I spend so much time hunting for a dead end soul destroying job in that said town?
My love and life is in words and writing. These past few months for various reasons that writing has slowed to a mere trickle and sadly inspiration left me. But these past few days it seems that a floodgate has opened. Ideas are entering my mind so quickly and in such a torrent that sometimes it is hard to grasp them.
I am giving up looking for a job here in Haverhill. I do NOT want a job here in Haverhill.I will concentrate solely on writing. Complete creativity I hope. I will still have to visit that hope destroying job centre to get my government beer vouchers and apply for the odd job or two to keep bureaucracy happy and the said beer vouchers flowing.
And like last year I hope that by my birthday on September 11th I will be elsewhere. If not then I think I will stick a damned pin in a map and head there or something anyway. I don’t care whereabouts it is in the world or the UK but this guy wants’ to head outta town and this guy is going to, although maybe I will pass on the Seychelles this time.
So until then it will be full out with the novels. Some short story and poetry competitions…Who knows?
The world is my lobster.