Saturday, February 15, 2014

Friend


Friend, hold my hand
and let’s go
to a place we don’t know
let’s be us
happy, fabulous
let each motivate
to unfetter the other’s fate
let’s laugh with the wind in our face
with lifetimes packed in days
let’s live our meaning of Right
infuse goodness to each fight
let’s revel in the uniqueness of our team
when distance threatens, still chase our dream
let’s tell life to take a walk
but love it all the same, let’s rock
let none be hurt along the path
and yet defend truth in the face of aftermath
let’s live to the fullest we can
keeping instinct before plan
let’s plan a bohemian bike ride
never exchange the witty for snide
let’s throw open our lives
to love that lets go, still thrives
let’s not waste a tear
cry if we must, do while near
let’s fly, and learn and teach
compassion and beauty, to us and each

Monday, February 3, 2014

Expectant

Raw, exposed, excited 'n heightened
at the promise of return you've sown
I overwork my body, in vain many ways
to quieten the shiver in my bone

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Aggressive Softness

In a strange, exciting way, I feel like her woman.

I’m not a macho-man type, but neither am I the feminine kind. I guess I’m pretty much the boy-next-door, content in my easy style of being. I talk less, but generally straight. I’ve had my share of crushes and infatuations, but I was never among the over-sexed men. In my boyhood days, I did the same things that most boys did, but somewhere along the path, I did grow up. Or so I would like to believe. People around call me mature and balanced, but this is not about me. This is about her.

She’s magic, you know. No, no…you possibly can’t know. There is no other her. You couldn't know till you knew her. And saw me with her.

I've never felt this before. In my modest experience with women, this strange feeling, of wanting to be the woman in the relationship, never quite fascinated me. Is it my age? Is it some repressed inner need? I couldn't tell.

It is like this. When she’s around, I love her taking charge. She’s so sorted, so sure…it is pleasing to watch her reaching logical conclusions, unmarred with biases and egos that afflict lesser mortals like us. And just then, when one is beginning to wonder at her mature mannerism and perfect conduct, she will crack a joke somewhere around the belt, and deliver it with such good-heartedness…

Of course her personality is magnetic. But I’m digressing. This is not even about her personality, it’s about her. A quality that penetrates outer appearances. I’ll tell you what. There is a masked aggression that runs like an undercurrent beneath her translucent skin. When she looks at me, I feel freshly washed in her attention. I wait for her to tease me, I bite my lips and blush in the after-effect, and love the further assault she unleashes. Does she know how I love, often beget, the entire process? I bet she does.

Another of her beauties. She reveals exactly what should be, with shocking boldness, but never stirs what should be kept quiet.

Sitting back with admiration and joy, I watch her mingling with others, winning hearts, breaking proposals, fixing deals, enjoying life…with a confidence that could seem cold. But cold? That’ll be the last thing that she is. This is what surprises me. She is so sensitive, so soft…like the inside petal of a just-blown tulip. I have, much to my sadness, seen her breaking down once or twice on matters others won’t give a damn to. But the clarity with which she gathers herself later – marvelous.

That is why I feel so safe in her company. I know I will be judged fairly, I know I will have love, even pampering, when I need it. I know I will be humored, and taught, in a way where I can’t distinguish one from the other. I know that she will be my emotional fortress. My role model. I look in her eyes, and melt. I surrender. Waiting for her to gather me in her arms…and…no, that’s not for you to know.

Does that make me effeminate? I don’t know. Ask her.