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Seed

 

Seed

You can try

every cure, every potion, every remedy,

you can erase it with drugs, with sex, with religion

you can cauterise it, crush it, cut it, crucify it,

you can freeze it, forgive it, forget it, fuck it,

you can deny it, defy it, deride it, destroy it,

you can burn it, break it, belittle it, betray it, bury it,

you can hate it, harm it, hurt it, harangue it,

you can trick it, tear it, trap it, trash it,

you can eject it, evade it, evict it, eat it,

you can poison it, persecute it, prick it, prune it,

you can shame it, shatter it, smash it, suck it

you can ruin it, regret it, reduce it, rape it,

you can inject it, intimidate it, isolate it,

you can leave it, lash it, lose it.

You can try

every spell, every enchantment, every charm

you can call in an exorcist,

you can send up prayers

you can summon the devil

you can invoke an ancient curse

you can wear it away, wish it away, wash it away, want it away

you can pretend it never was, never is, never will be

you can try anything and everything

but you will never

ever

be free

of the seed

I planted

in your soul.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Kelly Reemtsen

Written three years ago – but already one of my favourite performance poems, so much fun to write and recite – truly worth a listen, though I say it myself.
And this seed is dangerous whenever and wherever it is planted.

 
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Posted by on July 5, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Maybe somewhere

 

Maybe

you are out there

somewhere.

 

Maybe

somewhere close

beyond fields

and trees

roads and cities

valleys and streams.

 

Maybe

somewhere far

beyond borders

and flags

mountains and lakes

continents and seas.

 

Maybe

somewhere

beneath

different skies

in a different land

with a different tongue

and a different skin.

.

Maybe

you are out there

somewhere.

 

Maybe

you are out there

somewhere

waiting

for me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a year ago, but I like it.

Painting by Marc Figueras

 
9 Comments

Posted by on June 7, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Change me

 

You might

charm me

seduce me

engage me

.

You might

excite me

enchant me

delight me

.

You might

thrill me

bewitch me

amaze me

.

You might

inspire me

arouse me

inflame me.

.

But you will

never ever

change me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new. But always true.

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on June 6, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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In my youth

Art by Annick Bouvattier

A girl like you.

In my youth I would have fought other boys for the right to walk you home. Wearing the scars like a badge. Or I would have wandered backwards and forwards past your house , hoping to catch a glimpse of you at a window. Or long for you to see me, a shadowy figure beneath the street light, and think me romantic.

In my youth I would have carved presumptuous initials into innocent trees, into battered park benches, into tables, and desks, and the backs of chairs – not caring if I was caught. Or that you would disapprove if you knew.

In my youth I would have sought you out at dances, making a mess of my over rehearsed lines. I would have asked a friend to give you messages – which you would probably receive with a frown.

In my youth I would have made up a hundred heroic stories in my head where I come to your rescue. Saving you from the clutches of the mob, the grip of an assailant, the jaws of death. Or perhaps just finding your lost dog.

In my youth I would have written you tortured poems, toiled over for hours, scrawled on stolen paper, that would never leave the pocket of my faded denim jeans.

In my youth I would have wished for the internet, if I could have seen into the future.

Yet here I am. Connection at my fingertips. Posting pointless poetry.

That you will probably never read

A girl like you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written three years ago, and I am still posting pointless poetry.

Art by Annick Bouvattier

 
10 Comments

Posted by on May 26, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Odds

 

Sometimes

this feels like

sending a message

in a bottle

hoping it will find

your sea

your shore

your hands

your eyes

your heart

your soul

yet knowing

the odds against

it reaching you

are infinite.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new. Sighs. The improbability of messages in bottles.

Art by Sarah Fecteau

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on May 7, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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High

 

I have been high

on the bottle,

the rich taste of red wine in my mouth

blackberry, cinnamon, tobacco, leather,

Another glass, and another.

And perhaps another.

Until all I know is crimson liquid.

Then brandy or port or absinthe.

Or all three.

Pour me out of a taxi and take me home.

 

I have been high

on acid.

Pills, blotting paper, microdots with happy, hippy names.

Colours bleeding into surfaces into shapes into light.

Music holy with new tones and textures to touch.

The revelations, the meanings, the weird,

finding a new religion in a carpet.

The warm fade and glow

of coming down.

 

I have been high

on adventure,

on exploration, on discovery, the wild, the different, the strange.

On art, on words, on music, on performance, on poetry.

On the strings of my guitar.

On winning, on deals, on negotiation.

On a high-five finish

On landscapes, seascapes, lucky escapes.

On the lights on the harbour twinkling like diamonds

On snow, on ice, on powder.

On that feeling, at the end of the page

when everything

is perfect.

 

I have had

a lifetime of highs

but nothing

absolutely nothing

not a single thing

comes close

to you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not the first time I have posted this. Sometimes one finds a new high.

Art by Hamish Blakely

 

 
7 Comments

Posted by on May 2, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Trust

 

I would take

the poison apple

knowingly

from your lips

into my own mouth

and trust in you

to kiss me awake

in a hundred years.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this three years ago. It was based on one of my own tweets. I rather like it, so have posted again.

Art by Evelina Ladzinska

 
14 Comments

Posted by on April 30, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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