Moving the blog

The blog has moved to:

The blog has moved to forpuck.wordpress.com

Just because wordpress lets me see if anyone has been reading or not.

Cut it

Almost never cut it
Your arguments weren’t valid
Hours melting like snowflakes
While we were living in squalor

Almost but never cut it
Your body a prize to die for
The powerful wear stilettos
I could never afford it

Almost never, so cut it
Escape is also an opiate
Stranded I turned to vileness
Respect for nothing but power

I almost never did cut it
Riding in on a donkey
My dismount was left unnoticed
In rags made purely of money

Ellen's story

Sagacity was Ellen's friend
She often went for older men
They would be stern
And wine and dine
Their thoughts would set her sex on fire
Their voices deep, their gazes strong
The list of her demands was long

Her foot was arched, lips ruby red
She listened, giggled, gave them head
Her life was rich, the men were old
O, glory to the young and bold

One night two men of Ellen's met
It was an accident, Kismet
First they were angry, then distraught
But one of them then had a thought
They hailed a cab, they all got in
She's in the middle
Looking thin

And you can guess what happened then
One younger girl, two older men
A city drive, a penthouse flat

With nice champagne and pricey art
Their beady eyes, their groping hands
They made demands
And danced the dance

And Ellen still likes older men
Sagacity is still her friend
Her foot is arched, her lips are red
And she still gives amazing head

Summer days

Go back to summer days
With breadcrumbs on your dress
And angry geese and beer and ticks

Amid the heat and hate
Of men creating fame and money
I water flowers on the windowsill

Submerged in city
And the bark of dogs and people
My chest is bare because of heat. Is yours?

No title

She chastised me for metaphors
And offered her body as proof
Amid heat and jackhammer noise

Who was the puppet this time
On strings made of come
And bitemark dials on skin

We lost momentum quickly
Our diaries written in silence
You the artist; me the slut

Maria sang

Maria sang
About true beginnings
Her hair was stripy with sweat

Coming back
Calling out from the haze
Where longing is fueled by cheap wine

You are late
And so am I again
These moments never truly happen

We were always out on Tuesdays

We were always out on Tuesdays
We fled from the glare
And our waters never broke

We never hesitated to lose the moment
We rode in on elephants at sunset
And conquered both sunlight and flesh

Nothing was coupled with anything
Our swansong was gossamer
But our fists were clenched

2009 - A summary

Let's drink to end this year, so many ends
Our closest dreamers turning dry and bitter
Our hands reach nothing, all we get is glitter
We strive so hard, but cannot make amends

Let's dream to end this end, so many years
So many drinkers turning spry and boring
We're out of drugs, they even stopped the whoring
But we shall force our way to joy from tears