Dykes – R – Docs

A man I know, once called me a DYKE for desiring some Doc Martins. To spite him, I obliged him and Not only bought my boots, but found a sweet little V to kiss upon as he suggested. Yo man! She says ‘thanks’!   *discrimination is dangerous and stereotypes are often silly… 

Happiness Train

I love NYC for many reasons. One of them happens to be its Subway performers. Another happens to be the helping hand that she always gives me when I really need it. The link below this poem illustrates what she gave me today, because I needed it most: A sad girl walks onto a train … Continue reading

The Wood Allen

A sound of music playing in a quiet café. On a forgotten street in BK. A saxophone playing; Not elevator-style but a little ‘Woody Allen’. Fear is knocking at my back door. Even after that warm smile and a flirty-friendly cup’o Joe. Change approaching train, And me as I try to listen… Trying to glisten … Continue reading

For the Love of Clown!

Clown nose fodder. Make me holler! Round and round, Up and down, Kiss my frown into a smile. Oh baby, you’ve got style! It’s why they all want you – for now. – J

Death. Irony. Life.

I become more comfortable with the idea of death, the more I live a life – that I consider to be – worth dying for. Funny how that works. – J

Victoria Blister

meet  me in Victoria where i will grab ahold’a ya, and kiss you till good-morning. good stories we’ll tell we’ve built them up well, “i  miss you,” can’t resist you, dirty rotten scoundrel fuck. … in a Cabin one day on your lips I will play, a love song sweetly whispered. … you never can stay it’s fun in that … Continue reading