Tag Archives: the soul


In nightmares
The dark
Within our heart.
And, when
Good men
They take
A look inside
Their heart.
And decide
“Is that fantasy
The whole,
Or a mere fractionality
Of me?
‘Tis fortunate none can see
Into my soul.
And the lies
Behind my eyes.

He Longed for Girls in High-Heels

He longed for girls in high-heels,
With soft,
Perfect skin.
But the devil coughed
And reminded him
That he was growing old
And that he had sold
His soul
For lust
To girls in high-heels
Who love gold,
Which crumbles into dust

We Have No Control Over the Sleeping Head

We have no control
Over the sleeping head
And dread
That our soul
May be exposed to the light of day.
For dark fantasies creep
Out in sleep
And in the land
Of dreams none may command
His wandering hand.

When we awake
Our dreams we shake
Yet, sometimes we may,
In the quiet of the day
Hear the devil cough
And whisper low
“I know
Where you go
In sleep …”.

Does He Care?

Stillettos encase neat
Little feet.
Perfectly toned legs invite
And excite.
Mutual delight
They may find,
To temporarily bind
Them together, but does he care
To probe what is in there?

No, not that obvious place,
The space
Where many a man will
Then go.
No, I mean her brain
That does contain
The whole girl.
The Whirl
Of loves, thoughts and emotion,
The vast ocean
Of her soul.

The Hill

How easy to loose the plot.
The fire burns hot
And the hand
Obeying not sense’s command
Touches the burning coal.
The soul
Pulls back
But oft we lack
The will
To climb the hill
To a cloudless place
Where the sun’s face
Banishes the dark
And tears of joy start
To fall.
We recall
The path of right
And struggle against the night.