When all is said and done.
I did all I could...
...didn't I?

When all paths are exhuasted.
And all roads traveled.
Is the journey really worth more than the destination?

I'm not so sure.
...cause sometimes
just sometimes.


Where you're going
Means more than how you got there.

M.J McGuire-Curry
July 24 2009

Rough Trade Saints Pt. 1

Gunmetal kisses and cordite-scented caress.
Longing for that choking pleasure-pain you provide.
I am addicted to the abuse, my necklace of bruises a testament to your love.
Yet all the clichéd lines slip away as the world is muffled,
my face thrust down into the dark pillowcase.

Gunmetal kisses against my temple, gun oil tears on my cheek.
"Baby, we're gonna have some fun" you whisper, cocking back the hammer.
You love it when I struggle, so I put up a fight as you rip into me.

Gunmetal kisses, digging into my skull.
It's impossible to know who truly surrenders.
The mix of sweat, pain and pleasure thickens the air...
Not that I can breathe, with your hand around my throat..
Though I know now, I own you as much as you own me.

Gunmetal kisses, the barrel slides across my tongue as you drop into me...
When you tell me what a worthless piece of ass I am, I hear "I love you."
And when I pass out the last I feel are gunmetal kisses across my neck.

M.J. McGuire-Curry
July 28th 2007

Rough Trade Saints Pt. 2

Your spit tastes like cheap beer and expensive cigars.
You give me a face full as my cock rips you open.
Letting me know that you're in control,
Roles don't apply here, we don't understand them.
Top, bottom, sub, dom.
"Yes please" is all we comprehend.

My cum dripping from your ass as you squat on my chest,
jerking your bull dick in my face.
The primal stink of old sweat, precum and piss filling my nostrils.
It transcends desire.
It's the smell of love. Bitter, sweet, salty, wet, pure and untamed.

Thick ropes hit my face, my tongue, my neck.
The snarl leaves your lips, replaced by a smile...

M.J. McGuire-Curry
December 24th 2007

On Thought and Sense

On Thought and Sense.
Giving definition to the undefinable.
As we strive to codify those things,
That give us our mystery.

As Life and Love are fleeting.
We scramble to put into words,
those things even we cannot fully express.

What are we without definitions?
When memories and emotions are all we have?
And it seems the heady mix of pleasure and pain goes on forever.

I say we are blessed.

M.J. McGuire-Curry
April 20 2007

reasons.

I told myself that I had my reasons,
and now I realize they were wispy excuses
small justifications made to stave off guilt.
'cause surely I couldn't be to blame.
Afterall, I had my reasons,
right?

I can see it though
That shadow in your smile that lets me know
This time I went too far
Too far away into myself
Trying so hard to keep my secrets
To keep you away

M.J McGuire-Curry
March 13 2007

weapons

Assume me not, neither heart nor soul.
I am not yours, perhaps not my own.
And from strange lands and distant waters grown.
Born once of pain, purified by loss.
Scarred by grief, tempered now by fire.
I am a blade of metal purged of dross,
and wielded by naught but my own desire.

Do not assume me, my way is not yours.
Mine is a path with homes in heaven and hell
and I will do as I must but still, remember..
The Gods forge their weapons well.

M.J. McGuire-Curry
January 17 1997

a new face...

It's been a long hard road, to hell and back
And yet I find myself limping along.
I've seen the landscape change more times than I care to recall
And nothing is familiar
But I keep moving, restless and tired
Toward something new, because you see
You can never go home again.
Not that I would even know where to start
Let alone where i'd be when I came to the end.

So I take off the mask i've been wearing,
Throw it to the ground with hands that no longer shake.
The next one will fit better than the last
But only for awhile.

I wonder how many miles I can get out of this one.
A jesters smile and slanted eyes.

M.J. McGuire-Curry
December 16 2006

A smattering of haiku

Vague thoughts like smoke clouds
Amidst dire warnings and praise
What am I to do?

Music tells my love
here now in the pulse and beat
I find Lakashim.

Freeway overpass--
Blossoms in graffiti on
fog-wrapped June mornings


Dallas summer song:
cicadas whir, the
sirens call

The inbetween times
When thought and sense take their form
When I know myself.

M.J McGuire-Curry
Various dates, 2007

We are each our own

In beat and measure we set our lives,
a daily routine becoming daily grind.
At times we see our deficiencies,
as nothing more than effect of cause.

And yet, we shun the unexamined life,
to strive for recognition when we ourselves
fail to recognize.

So insular we've become.
Even those of us who claim empathy.
Solace and solitude compete,
for our essential natures.

Where from here?
No man is an island?
We are each our own universe.

M.J McGuire-Curry
October 10 2007