Poetry In Motion

The Too Much
by Christa Bell

Couldn’t have been more beautiful
Than I was last night.
I couldn’t have been sexier,
Or more luscious.
My ass couldn’t have been bigger
Or glowed more brightly.
My teeth couldn’t have been whiter,
Skin softer,
Hair shinier.
I couldn’t have smelled any sweeter,
Been nicer,
Or more holy.

And still I was not enough
For you.
‘Not enough,’
My friends tell me,
Will never be my issue.
They say it’s ‘the too much’
That leaves lovers like me
Strangled by our own question marks.

You see—
Some women love lightly,
Like whispers wrapped in spun sugar.
And these are the ones who make it so hard
For the blue-black molasses
Ever-lasting taffy kind of love
That overwhelms the tongue.
They make it hard for those of us who,
Due to circumstances beyond our control,
Are destined to always
Over-love with a vengeance.

We are the spell-casting blue magic witches,
Mixing menstrual fluid into barbeque sauce.
We will gather your pubic hairs under the new moon
And bottle them in our piss.
Our territory is blood and dreams,
Past lives and other states over which
You have no control.

Be warned: you will lose all control.

So if you really need to keep it,
If you can’t keep it real,
If intensity and complexity
Just ain’t your thing,
If you can’t handle the truth,
Then brethren—fuck you.

‘Cause in this house of worship
There is no room for emotions
That judge and demand regret
For our pleasure.
If forty-eight hours later was too soon
For you to be in my mouth,
Than you shouldn’t have come there.
But don’t you tell me it’s my fault.
Every way I am is divine.
I won’t feel guilty.
I just won’t be ashamed.
I will not hide this story.
My craft obligates me to tell the truth.

And, brothers, y’all need to know:
If too much sugar makes you sick,
Spoils your appetite for even the smell of dinner,
There are certain flavors of women
You should not consume.
‘Cause tasting even a little bit
Of what you know you can’t swallow


Estou a viver em mim próprio como num comboio a andar..

I didn’t board voluntarily, I didn’t have the choice and I don’t know the name of the destination. One day in the distant past I woke up in my compartment and felt rolling, it was exciting. I wished the train would never interrupt its journey.

I became aware: I cannot get off. I can’t change the tracks or the direction. I don’t determine the pace. I don’t see the locomotive and can’t see who’s driving it and whether the engineer makes a reliable impression. I don’t know if he is reading the signals correctly and notices if a switch is worked wrong. I can’t change the compartment. In the corridor, I see people passing by and think: Maybe it looks different in their compartment than in mine……

Night Train To Lisbon – Pascal Mercier

A Man Alone

by Stephen Orlen

I hated breaking up and I hated
Being left, finding myself in an apartment
With an extra set of silverware and a ghost,
Impatient to be gone. Then to summon up
Who I was before the bed was full with woman.
To shift the street-mind from getting to
To slowing down and window shop. In the bar down the street,
To let my eyes simplify again, and make no judgments,
And breathe in the smoke that drifts
Through one body then another,
And find myself close enough
To whisper into a woman’s just-washed hair
And inhale that ten thousand year old scent.
To memorize a phone number.
To learn to say goodnight at her door.
To keep my hands in my pockets, like a boy.
To open the heart, only a little at a time…

Second Best

I am reading, as usual. The book is thought provoking, a love story for the most part, but also a book about life. A comment made me think. Should you settle for being second best? I think perhaps not, yet sometimes that is just how I feel, second to … practically everything really.

My life has changed so much yet sometimes I feel as if I am going backwards instead of moving forward. Subtle things, yet they have an impact.

I said once before that my life needs a rethink. Maybe now is the time.

Someone Else

Have you ever wished you were someone else?
Someone other than yourself.
Have you ever wanted to get away?
To be someone else for a day.

Does it seem like your lane is always jammed?
and everything you do is always damned?
Do you always seem to catch the red light?
and you never seem to do anything right.

Do you try to make everyone happy, not sad?
but someone always ends up mad.?
If I changed my name
Would you treat me the same?

If I changed my face
How would I see this place?
If I changed my beliefs
Would my mind be anymore deep?

If I was someone else
Would I wish I was myself?




If I can’t do
what i want to do
then my job is to not
do what I don’t want
to do

It’s not the same thing
but it’s the best I can

If I can’t have
what i want . . . then
my job is to want
what I’ve got
and be satisfied
that at least there
is something more to want

Since I can’t go
where I need
to go . . . then I must . . . go
where the signs point
through always understanding
parallel movement
isn’t lateral

When I can’t express
what I really feel 
I must practice feeling
what I can express
and none of it is equal
I know
but that’s why mankind
alone among the animals
learns to cry

by Nikki Giovanni


I long to watch you sleep
To feel the warmth of your breath upon my cheek
I dream of tracing the outline of your face with a gentle touch
Just to see your lips move in a sudden smile…

Am I asking too much…

I long for you to hold my hand
To feel your arms surround me in a hug
I dream of looking up at you
Just to see your eyes dance with laughter…

Am I asking too much……