raised up

Posted in General Musings, Poetry on December 5th, 2019 by D'jaevle

from your knees
everyone seems
divine

subjugation by decree
submission through the
eye of a needle

there is such beauty
in a head lowered
and eyes
upraised

goddess

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on October 26th, 2019 by D'jaevle

golden aura
laughing eyes
and you
so perfectly
naked
and
divine

radiance as raiment
which is nothing at all
your bared self
is
a miracle
of beauty

elegant undoing

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on September 24th, 2019 by D'jaevle

Tell me where you are most brave.

so I may pluck it from you
sip the sweet marrow of your surrender
and make your hunger mine

the laughter of gods

Posted in Poetry on September 5th, 2019 by D'jaevle

thunder.

I wait for it, window open, clove between two fingers, whiskey like gasoline at hand.

thunder is a pulse

metallic scent, soft rain, and then –

heartbeat

thunder. Thunder. THUNDER.

unambigous altar

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on August 21st, 2019 by D'jaevle

prey.

one word.

one unambiguous word.

prey.

you, prey.

I. Prey.

one word.

a universe of intentions.

I prey, but entwined with

I desire.

you – prey, but entwined with

fierce, singular, selfhood.

I prey on your raised

selfhood.

(bared ass, all fours, caught, defile, devoured)

you – prey, of a mind, of a moment.

of surrender.

somewhere in the middle.

we prey together.

the way you bruise

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on August 11th, 2019 by D'jaevle

you were a dream I had
more light than thought
more thought than real
more real than waking

you were a dream I had
and you were
poised
placed
positioned

and you

pleaded
promised

part
ed

to
invite
me
in

capsize

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on August 5th, 2019 by D'jaevle

you are my vessel
meant
for drowning

i fill you with
the way your leg looks
hooked over the edge of the tub

the droplets that gather
in concave and curve
tiny mirrors shaped
by your breasts

until
the weight of my regard
tips you over

midas

Posted in Captured - The Spoken Word, Crimson Writ, Poetry on September 15th, 2018 by D'jaevle

do not pity Midas
for turning love to gold

envy him
for capturing a moment
forever

if I had his gift
you would be an altar
for my sins

preparing for winter

Posted in Captured - The Spoken Word, Crimson Writ, Poetry on September 14th, 2018 by D'jaevle

little red went riding

and found the woods too cold

now she’s nestled next to me

doing what she’s told

vessel

Posted in Poetry on May 23rd, 2018 by D'jaevle

I’m never so possessive,
but in want
for a gold
(empty)
chalice
for me
to
fill

you are.