The poet

As never did I know –
I could touch so many people's hearts.
That never did I mean to let so many people down,
yet never did I think I could be lonelier
than I already
- Was

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Silent night

Then so the city streets are filled -

With faceless people that anonymity is their name.
Thus cold is the compassion which strolls these hallowed halls,
warmed only by the glow of holiday lights lung low.
that as misfortune steps from shadows
- It scurries away.

Yet winter wind is indiscriminate -
Cruel that its icy touch cuts chillingly to the bone.
Thus what delight is found in the delirium of the falling snow
might simply be another’s misfortune of madness.
Still she bears her burden well, and yet
- She hears voices.

She cries into her mothers shoulder
for she is not but a moppet of rags and whispers.
“Mummy it’s so cold, how much further until we are home?”
“Hush child.” She comforts. “I can see the light.”
Tears of expectation escapes the child’s
- Black button eyes.

Thus she pushes unwaveringly on.
Onward through the crowds of faceless people,
always clutching the warmth of her child closer to her heart.
Down streets with no name that even as the snow
gathers binding the wheels of her life she
- Follows the light.

Past peep shows and soup kitchens
Where they stand pounding out words of salvation.
Jesus loves you, repent. The end is near, repent. Jesus saves,
open twenty-four hours for your viewing pleasure.
Voices, voices voices she hears voices
- “Mum. I’m cold.”

“I know child… We’re almost home.”
“Mummy, would you tell me a story?” She pleads.
Nestling the child deeper into the tatters of her coat she began
“Once there was a little princess just like you…”
touching her ragamuffin upon the
- Stitch of her nose.

“Ooh...” The child cooed attentively
as she blinked her button eyes in wonderment.
“She lived in a tower of height wrapped in thistles and thorns,
and yet the tower was so tall that it pierced the
clouds of her hopes and dreams.”
- “Ooh Mummy...”

She coddled the child with warmth.
“Thus realizing her dreamings had come true
she stepped out onto the feathery whiteness just as we are now
finding her way home to live happily ever after.”
Thus warmed the child smiled a little
- Stitch of a smile.

“That was a wonderful story Mummy.”
“Why thank you dear, as you are everything to me.”
Then as she wrapped her snow laden shawl around the child
a tear froze in her eye. “I’m cold Mummy, so cold.”
“Hush now and sleep, were almost home.”
- “I loves you Mum.”

Unnoticed she turns into an alleyway,
the boys are making holiday spirits in the back,
singing carols they are warmed by rum and burning rubbish.
Sinking behind shelter blending into the shadows
she coddles her only possession and
- Dreams of angels.

Thus day breaks with its blinding light
as the spirit is only now beginning to awaken.
Children flock to the hills with their new found sleds anxious
to be the first that breaks the new fallen snow
while others wandering from shelter
- Remain faceless.

“Look Mummy! Someone has lost a doll!
Can we keep her Mummy? Can we can we please?
Awwwww poor thing. She is all wet and cold and has lost an eye.
Will she be ok Mummy? Can you fix her Mummy?
Can we take her home Mum, can we?”
- “Hush child…”

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

Ambiance

As I dream of you –
Such is the scent of vanilla flesh
as I become lost within the reverie of your hair.
Softly spun with twilight as I see only the candle of your eyes.
Let the shadows of sadness play upon my wall
as all I know is you are with me
- Now

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Endorphin machine

Erroneous opiate –

That you so dominantly secrete
makes me swoon of your sexuality’s sweets.
Such pituitary persuasion of your inviting perspiration
that you can swell the orgasmic glands of any man.
Thus since you do extrude such an ambiance of erotic prelude
be my lil’ engine of could and erogenous multitude.
My mechanized testeroneal tease, caution if you please
as I do feel your living loving aphrodisiac
has begotten the beginnings of a
- Heart attack

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Piccola ala

Weep not my little wing -
That your feathers are torn and tattered.
Heart of broken as dreams have all of shattered.
Come home to where your heart can sing
for you were all that ever
mattered.

Bring me your velvet heart
that I may make you brand new feathers,
as you sleep safe tonight out of stormy weathers.
Tending to your tears and fears of dark
as I relieve your relentless
tethers.

Will come a day colors fade
that my wings are now lead and leather.
Still in your heart I hope you know there was never
a home in my heart or in my wings shade
as nobody could love you
better.

Thus I fly the skies no more
that my days have become too far and few,
yet I lie ‘neath the sky watching you soar as I flew
hopeful you know the reasons what for
that my only heart was
- You

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Mousetrap

There once was a mouse that lived in a house
In the house therefore lived a cat,
and a woman who danced with the milkman by chance
to put meat on the table stead o’scrap.

Now the mouse did he please to consort with the cheese
from the cupboard far and bare,
and yet had he to be sly for the cat had his eye
may he not get from here to there.

The day the milkman cometh the cat came a runnin’
for some cream did he think to make haste,
the mouse saw his chance and made for romance
and skirted ‘cross floor without chase.

The woman weak in the knees started to scream
as the mouse ran twixt her stockings,
and yet it wasn’t of fright but more of delight
For her house it was a rockin’.

Just as the cream rose to the top the mouse did stop
for the cat did wait with saucer,
thus he scurried up thigh putting a spark in her eye
that the woman in heat got hotter.

Now the cat he did dine on sweet cream of thine
and the milkman continued his rounds stat,
and the woman did smile for it had been quite a while
since she had caught a mouse in her
- Trap.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2004

Chocolate

Such is espresso love -
Mocha latte the peanut butter of my parfait,
your prepuce lays sensually sweet ‘pon my pleasures palate,
aristocrat of aphrodisiacs thus I cannot love without it.
Sensuous bean of cocoa and caffeine you arouse my over stimulation.
Excitable delight able that you are so delectably entice able
that my tastes buds sing as my bells do ring
of my sensuality's premature
- Emaculation

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Bombshell

As you light my fuse –
A nuclear nymph of plutonium pleasure
that I can see for myself that my sites are unfettered.
Thus a ticking time bomb of titillating eye candy
that you’re so atomically arousing thus your defenses are randy.
That one look from you better I hit the deck quick
for it’s right between the eyes - Damn!
I think you just sunk my
- Battleship

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Cricket

Out of the distance - through my darkness
I listen solemnly for the gentle solitude of your night’s song.
Yet I will never know where upon your heart lies,
if it only belonged to me for in that one fleeting moment I know
that I am never truly
- Alone.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2002

Water lily

As is your soul –
A wandering beauty of free spirit
as you glide silently along the waters of my life.
Thus you do follow your heart as much as you have touched mine,
yet never straying from the pond of my hearts endearment.
Then so are the ties that bind, as you are the calming
essence which lies upon my own
- Drifting soul.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Kitten

What is my comfort –
Except for the soft whispering of breaths
provocatively warm into my ear.
Thus as you lay your head gently into the fold of my neck
you allure me into a catatonic submission
with the rhythmical murmur of your feline persuasion.
Then so I am mesmerized by the intimacy
of sensuality’s lyrical lullaby
as we become two hearts beating as
- One

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2007

Prudence misbehaves

Saddle up my face -
Mount my mouth malicious as you grind yourself gratuitously into ny teeth
pasting my face pungent with the muskiness of your pussy perfume
Labia licking slit slickening clit thickening
as I corkscrewed my tongue up your lathering love bum
boring you out to the cylinderal circumference
- Of a ’57 Chevy.

Fuck me like a beast -
Rip my hair and raze my back as you suck my flesh from your fingertips
Wrap your steaming cunt around the girth of my cock like a glove
Pulsating, penetrating, uterus undulating
jerking me off judiciously with your pink velvet viciously
biting sharply into my shoulders as I
- Split you like a log

Bind me with legs lithe -
Strapping stems that strangle my hips bucking and gyrating into my groin
Inhaling my cock deep into the lungs of your succulent fuck hole
Grasping gripping slobbering and slithering
impounding my mad monkey into the depths of your honey
until your adorable little abdomen
- Bursts a kidney.

Initiate anal destruction -
Commencing mud pie compaction by sphincter expansion that I
concussively compress your cooperative colon by kicking down its backdoor
Anally traumatized your sinkhole is sodomized
Did I not spit in your ass that you grind, grovel and gasp
Relax in my nut mustard enema
- And shit yourself.

Cranial copulation -
Feel the weight of my brass bouncing off your chinny chin chin
sucking the corn off my cob as I extend the depths of your throats epectations
Skull fucking fantasia esophagus euthanasia
That by eating my bone raw you have sucked its marrow dry
may that I flagellate your face until
- It pops like a zit.

So is the afterglow –
That Prudence was precious a porcelain princess of virtue voluptuously veiled
who harbored a desire to set men afire sending them straight to hell
Insatiably sensuous a siren pretentious
Always getting what she wanted still her heart haunted
until came a time when she got what
- Prevailed.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Reflections

Looking back – That I look ahead.
As my only mistakes were not to learn from the ones I made,
and yet I have no regrets as to whatever fallacies I may have incurred.
More over they have made me by enriching the beauty
of the soul of whom I have become
- Today.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Pirouette

As I delight in the delirium –
Spinning I am spun by the ballet of my adore.
Gracefully revolving to the elegant beat of your heart,
then so it is that I love to be in love
- With you

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Inspiration

The way of your love -
Then so is the condition upon my heart
as the closer I hold yours
- To mine

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Spoons

Fall into me -
May that I hold you to enfold you.
Thus entwined are we intimately aligned,
curvaceously cupped within the sculptured warmth of one another’s soul and sanctuary.
Enveloping you that I embrace you, demurely displace you.
As a vase holding its flower’s grace
softly slumbering in the night that they never part.
Then so you know after the glow
we are joined at the
- Heart

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2005

Charmed

Irresistibly speaking –
As I whisper sweet nothings into your ear,
and yet ny promise is in my kiss
that I shall always love you like a long
- Good bye

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Cherish

As I tend to your heart –
May that I cultivate the garden of my adore.
Thus to spend the rest of my days
nurturing the seed of your soul and sensuality
that you will forever know
- I love you.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Afterglow

As we are one –

Ethereally encompassed
within the impassioned essence of
sensual singularity and
- Soul

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Persuasions

Nubile temptress
of alluring unmentionables
would thou attempt to attract mine eye.
A lovely lolita scented of tequila
as she rubs gently against my thigh.
Would thou steal a kiss by licking my lips
my flirtatious nymph of honey,
and yet all thy whisperings in mine ear
as thou doest to me endear
will get me ten to
- Twenty

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Shadow dancing

As the flame of my heart –

Has inspired this ambiance of you.
Thus memory moves gracefully along these walls,
in a silent ballet of my own lights longing.
Still I reach through this veil of our distant love illuminate
thus to take your hand in mine might that I be
the same silhouette dancing silently
behind the flame of your
- Heart

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Pheromone

As a bee is drawn –
To suckle the honey of its rose.
Then so I am compelled by the scent and sensuality
of your flora’s effeminacy to make a bed
with in its petals of ambiance as I am intoxicated by
your own orchids passionate
- Perfume.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

The ruins of pleasure

How gentle is the fall –

That we plummet from such great heights.
Still to land in one another’s
- Arms.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Passacaglia

As is the tempo of my heart –
A troubadour of wandering composition,
might it liken to the poetic affair of a street side serenade
it crescendos into an operatic obsession of ardor.
Thus the only acompanate that need be
is the duet of your own hearts
- Measure.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Sway

As we were leaves -
Waltzing gently upon the whispering wind.
Cheek to cheek, heart to heart,
fingers entwined, our bodies locked lightly
within each others arms
as we rocked slowly to the sounds
- Of silence

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Clarity

Stepping through the veil –
That I may flirt with the twilight of my dreams,
‘tis where I find myself betwixt the “In” and the “Between”
Therefore the relativity to my lucidity
is purely the simplicity
- Of truth

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Synchronicity

E’en as the fates spin their yarns of life
we are still only the threads of soul traveling along parallel lines.
Thus could we intertwine and transverse the boundaries
of our own dreams and predestinations
would that I place my self in the pathway of your heart,
that we might weave the tapestries
- of life and love

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Pearls

As these -
Are the moments of you.
Of which I have strung so carefully,
graciously, reverentially, remarkably, unforgettably
along the thin line of my mortality’s thread.
Thus as I gingerly caress these benevolent baubles of memory
I am in awe of how precious, how priceless,
how infinitely timeless a single grain of sand can be
when encompassed by the essence
- Of your soul

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006