Sunday, August 31, 2014

"Siren's Song"

"Siren's Song" 

Her innocence a laughing matter.
Usual chatter among men
who befriend her with ulterior
aspirations aimed at the interior.
How fickle the mind becomes
sitting next to its heart
still struggling to stand
within their contrived hands. 

With every invite accepted,
the plan becomes ever simple:
They connect dots with her freckles
whilst complementing her dimples.
They grab and slap her ass.
Her pretentious laugh creeps out
until reminded of her past.
Now she's left to think about
where she may have lost herself
and how far back she must trace
in some lost hope of saving face. 

She was taught to hide her fault. 

Inadequate the sullen seductress.
Her will once fully honed
is no longer her own
when thrown against the wall
like the least of clothes worn.
Disproven are her stints of independence.
No country for the headstrong. 

Told her she'd never last alone;

but few men would ever want
what most have prodded through.
Tossed about with little doubt
that she has a right to refuse.
Abused by big, brown eyes
and the broadest of shoulders…………
self-proclamed servants of mothers
that she playfully called "Big Brother"
that would love when kid sister
is forced to call them "Mister."
No concern to kiss her tears away.
A little less fear today. 

Just moments of humiliation. 

Asphyxiation of the worst degree:
A smile for all to see
mixed with laughter and cheerful banter.
Enchanter of the wholesome
hearts that know nothing of the lonesome
lines that mar the countenance
she has strategically hidden from the world. 

Unfurled in silence after violent encounters. 

Makeup on the counter
strewn between garments torn
that were worn to entice.
Her penalty.
Her penance.
Her price of admission
for guilt to remain trapped
beneath quilts eventually as stained
as the pain that coats her face.
The strain of tracing lines
atop the scars of shame unspoken. 

Somewhat sufficient mask until broken. 

Never chosen for her favor
unless her labor incites pleasure.
Treasure no one ever claims.
Trapped and throttled.
Marked and maimed.
Famous for decrepit deeds
that serve only to sow seeds
that are stamped out before bloom. 

Whispers in a crowded room. 

Her innocence a laughing matter.
Fashioned her the frequent punchline.
They fit her into time lines
for the sake of story telling;
sparking interest and intrigue.
Beleaguered with rumors that surface.
Left to succumb and forsake her purpose

before she ever truly learns it. 

She now believes she's earned this.
She no longer fights to see
through this nightmare she calls her dream.
In her silence, she still screams. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz 


Saturday, August 23, 2014



The color of envy
you've siphoned within me
bled out into your quarters...

where branches
once viewed as borders
now carry the odor
that has defined your guilt.
Wilted in the thousands
are the flowers that have dared
to bloom near what we've built
and if plowed among the plenty,
I would wish at least a century
if guaranteed that we
would not share plains.
We have gained far few
than what "I Love You" can salvage.
The bark is chewed and worn.
The roots are ripped and torn
easily from such meager sediment
we've convinced ourselves was foundation.
What fortifies us now
I find no good will to murmur.
The ever skillful converter
taking every farce you see,
digging up reality
to hide it substantially
beneath soil that rain will not acknowledge.

We have effectively defined bondage,
You and I
as a means of growing high
enough to pay homage to the Creator
while defiling the Earth
that verily proclaims her will.
Stand still and time will not.
It will eat until we are hollow.
You only follow nature's plan
until it demands reconcile.
Bitter bile our tasteless leaves.
They would make the starving heave.
They scale us until sick
then use us as the wick
to prelude their bonfires.
Love for hire
and affection stacked in bundles
chopped and tumbled into portions
until tossed into the ocean
to quell the stench of burning
remnants no longer deemed useful.

We were once so fruitful.
Ambition changes with direction
like the inflection of chimes
that dance under more violent currents.
Uprooted, we hope to start again
but the wind exposes all.
All that shakes will surely fall
if not firmly planted.

Your enchantment felt under my skin
like sap imparted from stem to trunk.
Used to scale my branches
as if in search of the sweetest spot on earth.
Now more fashioned as hearth
or as scraps before the furnace,
your earnest is an urn for me;
harvesting purposely
until I'm cast beneath the sea
without room for cry or plea.
If life would ever learn of we,
They wouldn't etch love into trees…………

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Thursday, August 21, 2014

"Burlesque Nocturne"

"Burlesque Nocturne" 

You stand tall in the blackness.
Scale tall walls in my absence.
Their hearts will crash
and you command their axis.
Occupational practice.
No flashes.
No cameras allowed.
Never a name endowed with stills.
You have skill
and intend to show me more than.
I your only set of eyes.
Feel free to close the door then. 

Fancied you my private dancer
prancing about this dimly lit room
you have filled with your perfume
with every step you take.
Cared less if I were awake
or still somewhat daydreaming.
I'm teeming with anticipation.
You rive in my frustration.
I thrive on the elation
and you have yet to touch me. 

"Suddenly" is nonexistent. 

Surprise no longer insistent.
I persist and you take my time.
I insist and you let tension climb.
The apex so far from now.
I tug at buckles and you allow it.
Not one word spoken
but you speak louder in gyrations.
The vibration of synonymous pulses. 

Likened you to frequency. 

Finer tuning with each visit.
Limit slowly fades with each performance.
Inclined to new tones set
that threaten what I thought I knew.
Movement so concise.
So new.
Blew me away gently
to the edge of this bed.
Head full of things
I pray you've drawn no profit from.
Unspeakable acts one can't fathom.
My tongue you've claimed as ransom. 

You stand tall in the blackness.
Scale tall walls in my absence.
Can't miss what isn't revealed
yet I still ask what is concealed
should I find reason to awaken.
I dream of you in closed quarters:
Your wet skin and black lipstick
complete with fancy frills,
arms exposed to the chill
of this room conditioned for comfort,
eyes that control the soul within
and heels that pierce the hearts of men. 

Men who denounce your rare design. 

Nothing benign in your approach.
We've drawn close enough
to warrant an embrace
but only your face is within reach.
Incentives granted with each
increment in our proximity.
I your only guest implicitly
watching you perform explicitly
with hands bound to my belt.
Felt yearning in your movement
in tune with my relentless hunger. 

I can't breathe and that excites me. 

Entice me the entire night.
The sun will witness
what your acts have garnered.
Power inconceivable.
Passion as unbelievable
as it is palpable.
Your lace illuminating
every place I intend to taste.
Under street lights our shadows flail
with energy, grace and rhythm. 

They become whole.
They bend.
They fold.
They mesh so well with lust between them.
I have yet to see them worn
better than who leans in to me.
Could not conceivably pretend to be
as collected as I may appear. 

I sometimes wonder what brought you here………… 

…… standing tall in this blackness.
Still scaling walls in my absence
yet with no profit for you to claim,
you polish locks and chains,
bind yourself all the same
and let me find the key.
If the world was mine to own,
I would trade it for this moment.
The chance to graze hips
with the same lips used
to remove lapels and zippers.
Consumed by blinks and whispers.
Leather sticking to your inner thighs.
Look into my eyes
whilst I peel back this disguise
of dominance you've adorned for gain.
Break the chains with fervor.
Move free for me to see
everything I've yet to imagine. 

I am your purpose.
You are my passion. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz 


Saturday, August 9, 2014

"Mahogany Blush"

"Mahogany Blush"

If this were hinged on necessity,
I'd be far less playful
when addressing my desire.
Wouldn't skirt around the truth.
Would relinquish all the details.
I'd be frail within your grasp.
Hands clasped to your arm
like all else seeks to harm me.

Instead, I am charming when I visit.
You're exquisite.
We know no limits.
Explicit jokes with a splash of truth
and a slice of fruit
beneath the ice cubes in your glass.
Is this what one considers class
or am I too crass to exude such?

Touch as rewarding as the conversation.
The elation you contain
I collect like grains of rice
before the waiter takes our plates.
Far too late to walk alone.
Besides that, we're in a zone
that lasted hours after closing.
Topics under your controlling:
Are my parents in good standing,
do I ever get demanding,
do I like Cognac or Brandy,
what's my favorite type of candy?

So varied your interest.
So keyed in on your angles
that you're surely wondering why
I have yet to tell a lie
so you can dig me out.
You hear what is said
but if you were in my head,
we'd have less time for talking. 

I'm that sure.
Selective with my confidence
to the point where my compliments
have become secondary to your intent for me.
The extent of your imagination
inflates to the point of rupture.
The flood gates briefly stalled
with crossed legs
and a head hung low
with one arm as its crutch.

You've barely concealed that mahogany blush.

Save me a smile to see
when the day robs you of the rest.
Pastel dress shirts lined with lipstick.
For your next trick,
a quick change in temperature.
replaced goose bumps with heat signatures
and I lay here within your cross hairs.
Friendly fire full of desire.
Clothes cascade to the floor
like casings flung from the chamber.
Anger and frustration before faces flush.
The rush. The tension.
Not to mention the aftermath.
Serenity meets wrath
to the point where they
resemble one delightful meshing.

Undressed all that stress……
…………all that annoyance.
Snide remarks and feigned clairvoyance.
Stripped down needless defiance.
Clients reaping all of your time
replaced by a glass of wine
and a lap strong enough
to compliment your curvature.

You sink into my hands
like crushed chocolate ready to melt.
Never before right now
have I known a warmth that felt……
………………………this constant.
No room for reserve
or the usual soft speaking.
I am peaking.
I peek in and you are leaking.
Brushed my fingertips across my mustache
like grass desperate for raindrops.
Saw you gasp and change colors.

Now I see the light
you swore you'd never show.
Well worth the time now that I know
how to make your skin glow. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz 


Friday, August 1, 2014



Sitting in my throne
the atonement I have yet to issue.
Pride the tissue used
to abuse truth and wipe it clean.
Gone are the chances
I presumed reserved for redemption
but I have earned no exemption.
Conviction has a life of names
tailor fitted for shame
but my outlook is void of guilt.
We are worlds apart
separated by a bridge built
between indifference and ascension.
Dimensions this life cannot profess
any manner of experience toward.

This life………

Hard by design but
truly maligned when
forcefully refined for those
who feel the need to be defined.
The incline is steeper
than angles slanted between planets
but the connection remains there.
Fair enough for the ambitious
but the stubborn struggle uphill
until it nearly kills them.

Filled them with the very pride
that stands between me and my throne.
Similar affairs have called you home
and I honestly would love to visit
but I will not exhibit
what I deem submissive in perception.
Direction known by those I train.
Even they notice the strain
and the redundancy it manifests.
They jest in secrecy.
No trace of meek in me.
Believed you sought to weaken me.
I knew better but
the regal standard bearer
will not be viewed as a trend setter.

Lonesome magistrate with less dominion.
Opinion in extent
is only lent to the constructive
who recognize it as a mere extension
of our emotional ties.
My eyes have combed the skies
in search of alternative measures.
I treasure your countenance for its rarity
but clarity in my possession dies.
Wasteful sacrifice for pride
that only ensures a slight change
in what I once thought inevitable.

Miracle may cross that bridge
two hundred times between us
before it pays me a visit.
I create the limits
and adhere to them firmly.
Terms have changed
that I have yet to acknowledge;
convincing myself that there is solace
in denouncing unwelcome aversion.
There are reasons why dispersion
makes the ground beneath us smooth:

Influence makes the planets move.

I am alone among millions.
Stars only serve
to illuminate this bridge between us.
Distance in deliberate fashion
has distorted my view
of everything old and new

except you.

Clearer vision would not
have us tarry here this long.
Time will not prolong
that which may fade with passing moments.
Without atonement,
I might perish in stubborn pursuit of you.
I've claimed more time than I should.
Made more excuses than most would.

This is the very least I could do.

I'm coming for you. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz