Pisces Rising

Nick Masesso, Jr.

“Fix your hair just right; put your jeans on tight, or wear a dress, so I can get it off real easy. Cause I’ve been thinking I’d,  like to see your eyes; open up real wide the minute that you see me.” Up All Night – Counting Crows

Angelica sat in front of her dressing table mirror with her hair brushes, lotions and perfumes. She took down her hair. Looking over her shoulder she sensed the falling darkness in the hall as Angel swallowed the light on the stairs and listened as his familiar steps approached;

Angelica and Angel slept unaware until the sound of the milkman’s bottles clinking together on their stoop stirred Angel. Awaking he threw an arm over her soft breasts and tussled with the tangled bedclothes, a single muslin sheet that covered them, until he was pressing his muscled body fully against her, tightly; as if he were…

View original post 536 more words

Quintessence

Nick Masesso, Jr.

When the man

and the woman

arrived at the party

together

they never

kissed or hugged

or held hands like lovers

yet something electric

radiated

between them.

The people noticed

that the room became

a little brighter

and they saw that she

was very protective of him

and he

was very protective of her

and their emotions

seemed exposed

on their very skin

and appeared to run

ancient and deep.

When they looked

at each other

their knowing smiles

glowed a regal purple.

Their names

when spoken together

seemed like something

out of Shakespeare.

The energy that flowed

between them

was both electric

and loving

and familial

but too intense

for brother and sister.

No cross words

ever passed between them

as if they held their caring

which appeared strong;

fragile and precious.

When they left

the room became

a little darker

and duller

and more ordinary

and the…

View original post 31 more words

Memoriam

Nick Masesso, Jr.

“There are women and women and, some hold you tight; while some keep you counting, stars in the night”  – Come Down in Time – Bernie Taupin

There’s a girl who lives in the north country of California; an eco-village of recyclers, compost turners and organic lifestylers, who united with me for a time back in the day. She was the only one of the élite women that affixed her heart to mine over this lifetime, and even though we shared the most intimate of hours, with whom I could never find purchase. Even in our most intimate hours there sat between us a kind of violence even in our ardent love-making. She remains to this day an impregnable force, like a freight train, whose gears I could not convince to yield, whose machinery chewed me up every time I tried. I was left to simply buy the…

View original post 441 more words

Friends

Nick Masesso, Jr.

“United we stand-divided we fall” — The Liberty Song, John Dickinson

The test of a true friend is their willingness, upon your request, to offer a hand to one of your friends; someone they may not even know.

As I read Michael Moore’s autobiography “Here Comes Trouble” I was stunned by the avalanche of hate that descended upon him as a result of his acceptance speech at the Oscars after he won the famed prize for his first film “Bowling for Columbine”.  While a few luminaries like Meryl Streep and Martin Scorsese clapped wildly in approval, others like Robert Duvall went on the attack. Upon returning to his hometown in Michigan he and his wife were bared from their own property by three truckloads of horse manure piled waist high in their driveway and signs reading COMMIE and TRAITOR tacked on their trees.

As threats of…

View original post 404 more words

Extinct

“Now for me some words come easy; but I know that they don’t mean that much. I’m good with the words that are spoken with a lovers touch. You never knew what I loved in you; I don’t know what you loved in me; maybe the picture of somebody you were hoping I might be.” – Late for the Sky – Jackson Browne

Rose felt the trembling tingle of a sleepless night. She stared at the full moon outside her window on Charles Street in New Orleans as thoughts of her lost lover slipped through her fingers. Beams of blue flickered through her window pane and caressed her face exposing the brown stains under her eyes; etched there forever by her rusty tears.

Palmetto bugs danced all around the flames of the many scented candles she’d lit before she lay upon her futon to contemplate her lost desire. She wondered how that same pale blue moon looking down on her could shine down in his eyes all those thousands of miles away.

She dreamed that she was sleeping and in that sleep dreamed how every minute of pure ecstasy she’d felt with her lovers in their cathedral bed had brought 1,000 hours of torment when the alliances inevitably spun apart.

Planets rotated, glaciers melted; and without trying or practicing or even knowing it could be done, just by thinking it, she suffocated her desire, sure that like the morphine that rose like a flood, pounding in her blood, the rapture she felt from her lovers touch was not worth the sickness that came when, always, inevitably, they left her; lost and desolate.

And so, when the next lover arrived and the fevered ecstasy dance began anew, slowly moving them toward each other like a magnet, she surrendered to the pull. Yet, when finally they were inches apart and the game was surely afoot, she felt nothing but the bottomless abyss, completely deserted in a state of bleak and dismal emptiness. Her desire, once so omniscient, the thing which gave her life meaning, evaporated into a whiff of smoke; and she with it went.