Tin Man

He was a hulking man

With a voice edged with authority,

Body parts designed for hostility,

And narrowed eyes that awakened

child-like fears.


In the distance  I hear a clang,

It’s the tin man.

The unmoveable man;

Feet sunken so deep into the ground,

That he could feel the worms slithering around

But still chooses to stay.


A white wall that hears but never listens,

Was he too much of a man to show compassion?

Were these hands incapable of loving,

What is love if it’s not given?


I heard that the dead lie in graves,

So I dig and dig,

Only to find,

That the man I wanted him to be

Never really existed.





Can you imagine having sex with your clothes on?

That instead of exchanging breaths,

we could intertwine our lives,

and explore the slippery surfaces of our pasts,

rather than the shape and texture of our tongues?

Would you be capable of nurturing

my mind and heart with the same

tenderness used when caressing my inner thigh?

when you delicately trace your fingers

down my neck and onto

my left breast,

do you feel the thundering of my heartbeat?

when you kiss your way towards my navel

do you sense the storm brewing in the pit of my stomach?

tell me,

could you imagine having sex with your clothes on?


How to make a home away from home

How to make a home away from home

Step into the room that is now to be your kitchen, sitting room,

Dining room and bedroom for the next three years and try

Not to feel claustrophobic,

These walls aren’t your enemies,

Learn to love them

For they are all you will see

On the long nights when you cannot sleep,

When your mind is a battlefield,

And the only thing that will calm you

are these white walls silently staring back at you.

Walk out into the torrential rain

That seems to go on for hours to come.

Feel your lungs breathe in the same air but

yet become heavier.

And somehow these raindrops that touches your skin

Feels cold and unwelcoming.

See these aliens pass you by and search for

familiarity on their faces and friendly smiles.

Find another lost soul,

Because you are certainly not the only one

Trying to make a home out a place that is far from home.

Try not to suffocate in the cigarette smoke-filled airtight clubs,

Or allow your eyes to water and burn.

You should be having fun.

This music shouldn’t deafen you.

And finally swallow your frustration,

Hold back your tears.

Try not to reminisce about the sun

Beating down on you,

Which not only soothed you skin

But calmed your entire being.

Don’t mistake the low hum of traffic down the street

For the sound of waves crashing onto the beach.

Try not to long for home when making a home out of a place

That is far from home.