when, heck, already there.))))))))))))))))))))))))
Month: February 2014
I love you to the moon
Doing It For the Coach – steamy excerpt!
Hi,
To me it seems as if it’s been a long wait – but that’s only because I’m really excited about this title – my new m/m novella, Doing It For the Coach! However, now at last you can get a glimpse of it too – it’s available for early download on the Totally Bound website, before it goes global on 28 March! So let’s kick off the party with a down and dirty excerpt…
Perry continued walking till he reached the back of the lot and, in the empty space between two cars, he turned to face me. I should have known to be more careful of him. He had weight and reach on me and I knew from Moreno that he’d been an army heavyweight champion. So really, the punch that came at me shouldn’t have been the surprise it was.
I sprawled backward onto the asphalt…
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Hush Hush
All the Hours of Rush, Rush,
Filling my Mind, Spinning Through,
Make me Long for the Hush, Hush,
Of Quiet Moments spent with You.
All the Madness, Turning, Churning,
Stealing the Peace You’ve Built Inside,
Leave Me Breathless, Burning, Yearning,
For the Solitude Found where You Abide.
All the Deadlines, the Push, Push,
Forcing me Onward into the Fray,
Find me Returning to the Hush, Hush,
Of All You Give, of All You Say.
Quietude
Stillness
Softly Seeking,
While the Hush, Hush
Is Lovingly Speaking.
~Morgan~
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Beautiful Photograph found at: inspiringwallpapers.net
Dark Poetry: Delirium called Life
Another wonderful work by Patty, a must read. TY
Delirium called Life
A mind wandering through the catacombs of sanity
Deprived of all humanity
Longing for the merciful death so eagerly
Reason torn up by strife
Feelings swept away by hungry madness
Overgrown by consuming coldness
Demanding the last heartbeat so anxious
Going berserk in overdrive
A soul being drenched in unescapable death
This lifeless story been read
Hoping for that ever ending last breath
Mistakenly still alive
Senses roaming through blinding emptiness
Filled with horrifying absurdness
Of a deserted life liven in pitiful loneliness
A place no one can survive
A heart beating steady on the rhythm of hatred
Bloodless thoughts, sick and twisted
Painful, destructive sorrow that never ended
In this ongoing delirium called Life
– Just Patty –
To Write Love
A little note and another sneak preview!
Hey Everybody!
For some reason I am not able to comment on your posts. 😦
I hope this problem will be resolved tomorrow because it’s frustrating!
Anyways, I thought it would be nice to show you a bit more of my poetry book because I received the proof yesterday! 🙂
I amediting it for the last time and making some final adjustments.
Next month, it will ready to be published! 🙂
This is just amazing, holding my own book! 🙂
One of the poems inside my book, it’s great to see it printed! 🙂
Lots of Love,
Patty
Listening for Miracles
Depeche Mode is one of my all time favourite bands…hands down, no contest, don’t have to think twice about it. Love Dave Gahan’s delicious baritone, love the synthetic quality of the music, love Martin Gore’s tremulous tenor, love his gift with words…. but this particular song has always made me sad. Not because of the obvious reasons though, not because the girl dies or because the poor mother is grief-stricken, (sorry, spoiler alert!) but because Martin, David, and perhaps the enitre audience, doesn’t seem to hear the Miracle contained in his lyrics.
First, if you are unfamiliar with the song, Blasphemous Rumours, then you should take a moment to listen to it before continuing on…(just a suggestion, really)
Sad tale? Yes. God vindictive and unfair? No. Absolutely Not. Why not? How not? Look at it from another angle:
Sad Girl is lost, alone, hurting, who knows why, we aren’t told…
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Masked Man
With hooded eyes he watches
his lustful gaze mesmerizing
he glides like a predator stalking
ready to pounce so smoothly
his words a masterful mix of
enchantments meant to entice
even the most mistrustful prey
his poems are his sword
he slays hearts as he composes
a wicked path of destruction
leaving broken pieces in his wake
spinning his tales of
adoration and desire
he moves in for the kill
his soft lips speak
drawing her in
he is the assassin of admirers
and she his willing victim
georgeforfun 