My book is out.

My erotic novel has just been released this week. This is the blurb. It is available in ebook and paperback.

 

If you are on Twitter please find me and rt for a signed copy. 5 lucky winners.

 

The Wanting is an intimate account of Serena and Teddy’s sexual awakening. They undeniably have a magnetic pull and connection that leads them to each other. It is an erotic tale of relationships and their internal struggles as told through dialogue with themselves. One night, Serena and Teddy are out at a bar and they both meet and fall for another person. Serena meets Ben, an attractive eBook writer and Teddy meets Melina, a sexually charged school teacher. The story that unfurls, is a roller coaster ride of two erotic journeys. Questions arise…Are two people meant to be together? What is serendipity? Do soulmates exist? The Wanting is a book about the confusion between sex and love. It is a modern romance into the mysterious world of sex and the power it holds over our minds.

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The Fire of my Storm

Inside my chest

is a raging child

she buckles up her seat belt

and waits for the accident

it is coming

it always does.
I remember her at six

how the piano freed her soul

and anger burned her wings

in burial grounds

where her mother met her fate.

This storm inside her at sixteen

tore apart all her friendships

these addictions to people

taught her about toxicity.

Now at thirty-four

she sleeps alone

and waits for the shores

of her youth to be

taken by the roads she missed.

She is a calm wave

waiting for her destiny

and lightening.

Ageless

I know that age matters not

right now, but then it did.

It mattered when we raced against

the wind. I was just a babe in your arms.

You were a man even as a teenager.

You had this way of bringing me love

on a tray, and spoiling me until

I was full on your love. I had it

all, for a brief time. I showed you

my cuts and bruises

and you kissed them. Your lips

on my shoulders within seconds.

My hands unbuckling your belt

in such a frantic youthful way

in an ageless time

between this world and the next.

Let’s remember where we were

and lament the age of us.

It matters that you see past

the girl. We felt invincible

and will never know that freedom

again, that youthful love we held

onto so naurally.

Sixteen

There was a time in the 80’s when I was sixteen

and Michael was my everything

while I was his nothing. And even years

later every time I’d see him he pretended

i was nothing. from nothing to something.

from something to nothing. i call him an asshole

now. even my daughter knows his name. it’s not

a fucking secret how i loved him. you probably never

get over a love. and when i left or you left or whatever

happened because it’s all a blur, for the second or third

or fourth time and i ran into you on the street and you told

me to stop my car. you always wanted me back

every time I ran you ran faster. you married me

we had kids

i had red roses and an Alfred Sung gown.

Once I met a man, it was brief, maybe twenty minutes

or so, once he told me how my beauty

marked him. another time a man wrote

a book for me, he wanted my blood

as his pen. sucked me dry out of my silence.

created some Greek fucking muse of abuse

and left me with ashes on my cheeks.

It’s true that you never forget a love.

It’s true that you love your wife.

It’s morality to want it all and smoke in the hall.

i’ve lived it. you have no idea how I live.

I’m an artist and he supports my locked up frustrations.

my midnight madness

even if he isn’t one, he loves my crazy.

But you, you get all of me

in a brown package

delivered straight to your heart

and soul.

and you open me up gently.

just be sure

to not mix me up

with your other soul mates

and i will do the same.

my eyes and hair haven’t changed much

everyone says i look the same. IMG_7644

every love

is you.

June second

the lights are red, but i want to go up

into the sky. drive right through

the pink and purple all night long.

this is my porn. you text me

your naughty, i’ll dream

in the fucking clouds. it’s june

second, two thousand and fifteen,

remember the 80’s? i relive them.

another full moon? do you

really care all that much? stop

howling. i feel it in every cell.

you’re fucked up.

I think my imagination

is so wild

even you

would run away.

but, you stay, you

make me believe

that the sunset

was a masterpiece

and the darkness

its palette.

the moon controls us

like love, we’re

helpless

to its pulling effect.

catch me tonight at

nine pm…its’ my son’s

award ceremony,

but i’ll still be falling

from the sky.

don’t forget to look up

and extend your arms,

even if you don’t see me.

Sunday morning portrait, 2015

You may wonder

who I am

or who you are

or who we are together.

or apart?

leading highway lives

from the end to the start.

I saw you first

you were talking with friends

embarked on your high horse,

the room was hazy,

smoky, jazzy, of course.

Did you forget your desire?

At first glance,

was there a burning fire?

Were you in a poetic trance?

or a real life dance?

I am no one you want to love

been there and done that,

let my need float up above

blend with the sky

I fall out from

like a gift from the Greek gods’ nectar pie

here to ease your numb

feelings from life,

the blended coffee strife…

which to choose?

I forgot, you take no cream,

you never lose,

you are high above all the sports’ teams

the judgement call

you like to watch me fail, fall –

admit it –

nothing would please you more

than to hear me

moaning

like a paid whore

You do not have to put

your hands in your pockets,

I am free, I need no wallets,

no words of lies

please wear your secret lockets

and cover my eyes

in seductive disguise.

I should be asleep

but the words are heavy, knee deep

in your sweet-smelling mud.

I like it

when I am drowning

in my own flood.

Not any closer to who I am

just take my fucking hand

eventually we will land.

Gung Hay Fat Choy

I know he wants me to send him love

but all I got are fortune cookie sayings

on this snowy Montreal morning.

Last night I drove from grocery to grocery store

when others were watching prime time

cursing about this or that

until that tiny box of fortune

was pointed out to me

like a winning lottery.

Then  I landed in bed

edited in the nude

locked the windows and doors

played Bobcaygeon

for light inspiration

and I thought how no matter

how many times

I would see his face

it could never be enough,

but others await my class,

alarm had flutes,

tangerine dreams of green tea

oranges, firecrackers, incense

zen music, tai chi exercises,

tea party in my world

but at seven tonight and seven tomorrow

my Osheaga friends meet again

to go back in time

while this afternoon

at half past three

ultrasounds  mark

lies or truths

like the check-marks

I give every day.

I had being stuck in checkmate

I hate to skate

but he knows all the right moves

and all the right tunes

to start over

day

after

day.

Await

There was a title to my love
story. I changed it about
as many times as you left
then came back with
those images that always
worked before. Before him,
that is. The title is in the works.
In my deep mind of altered
dreams. You are inside me
now, like the poems I write. You
write. I sleep. You sleep. I dream.
You dream. We meet. We part.
I want no answers. This is my
main problem. No solutions.
Most girls want it all. I want none
of it. All the things you can’t see
this is what I want. I need to
disappear, even under the sheets
will do. With or without you. I
recite Bono too often, claiming
this time I have tricks of bravery
up my sleeve on bristol boards
of love. I will run to you.
What else will keep me going
from one frozen day into another
as doctors call my name in
waiting rooms and I create
some kind of poetry that wakes
you from sweet daily slumber
and boredom on your screens.
Head on the desk, claiming
the flu has caught you again.
The headaches they’re back.
This stays within me. This long
drawn wait for the inevitable.
Health. Love. All this I claim none
of.
All
This
I
Await to read
screens of destiny.

Year in Review 2014

My own version of my year in review varies so greatly from yours

the big bang theories and explosions of my poems

on the screen

is still unseen

and my followers are beautiful

especially you

and my words are floating in space

this dead feeling along my visited place.

I should be proud

but I’d rather not be seen in a crowd

except if you are there

close enough to smell the perfume in my hair.

All my versions of this year I want to burn in a fire

leave my soul out for hire

give it away for a little while

so I could sleep

in such a lost deep haze

guitar sounds could not wake me

only your hands can take me.

The year in review

is not really my type of cue

to carry on my shoulders or brag

because it painted my colors in a different hue

you broke down my guard

with the persistence of a great bard.

I keep quiet but

I like the way you hit me hard with all your gust

I fall down and you make me believe

in trust.

Every year with you is a better one.

Close my eyes and feel the heat of the sun

that bears down on both of us.

Happy New Year

it’s coming closer don’t you fear

I’m here.

Happy New Year everyone. Peace. Love. Trust. Hope. Truth. Cheers to 2015.