Still Sweet Voice

painting by Chris

Fur and heat
steadily complete me,
His voice still sweet
though I shake he remakes me

Skin and teeth
grow replete
and defeat us
yet His voice still sweet
makes a treat of this carcass

In my bones I still moan
of the night and the quiet
but His still small voice
like a sweet sup of choice
pours a stream to my soul
where the wind could never go
and where his still sweet voice does follow

Wet and torn
from the naught I had borne
I listen for an age
and grow silent for a night
in a moment of a memory
and in an absence of a sign
I hear

His voice still sweet
through the valley of my sleep
and voice still sweet it finds me

From the hole in my soul
where I swore I'd never go
his still sweet voice reminds me
his still sweet voice unties me.

AEM Dec 2010

"ASK for Help"

this guy

I have dedicated these holidays to doing something with the creations that live in my head and under my bed. But what do I do with them? Do I give the art I have borne to a cafe wall where people who do not know me nor my heart will cast a cursory glance and make me feel like I have done something tangible with my time and energies? Do I send my writing to magazines who might look at it, but most likely won't, only to have strangers read, or not read some fancies in my head?
Now I know I'm just being a fusion of lazy and fearful.
SO if anybody who reads these has something to tell me about my writing, that would be so helpful. If you like it, hate it, find it confusing, or convoluted, or boring, or hopeful, or unskilled, or it makes you feel warm and fanciful, please just give me a word or two in return. I have a sign on my wall that says "ask for help". My wall gives good advice.
Also if anyone has any ideas about what field you think my style of writing would suit, or any authors you think I could read, that also would be wonderful.
Many thanks

Trim Down Your Passions

Between my legs
your table finds
its edges folded
over my deep
crease increasing

I think now to
leave
the world of
writing as an
exercise in futility,
as civil hostility
advises me.
Feed your soul on
early decadences
and trim down
into adulthood,
cut in half your passions,
tighten your resolve
to absolve yourself of
all your
visions.

AEM Nov 2010