Tag Archives: erotic poetry

what you call a pimp and a priest

28 Monday Jul 2014

Posted by in Erotic, Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on what you call a pimp and a priest

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Earthiness … “Rutting like beasts in the field” …
It’s hard when the squeamish Colonizers

(all those who never once blurred a line, squealed,
cried or howled) wail against the Others.

There are bars in Boy’s Town, Tijuana,
with their Donkey Shows; “See the Minotaur’s

Mother, Pasiphaë! See Queen Tatana
Seduce the Divine Ass!” Down on all fours

in Bosche’s “Garden of Earthly Delights” …
We force others to perform all the time

and it’s never enough. If there is sin
it’s these selfish, unending appetites.

The pimp who praises himself in cheap rhyme.
The priest who sees hell in my naked skin.

lapping thistledown

27 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on lapping thistledown

Tags

, , , ,

car car

piano

bed

purple

kitchen

star

wet as a swamp/ drowning between her thighs/ lapping thistledown

heat shimmers/ in the shade of her bedroom/ the widow goes down

two virgin boys/ all that defines me/ endless hunger, she said

he-she-he/ their teacher showed them how/ to enter together

my heroes are always/ undersexed with/ with the most vivid of imaginations …

my scandalous love affair with things that go bump in the night

23 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by in Erotic, haiku, Illustration and art, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on my scandalous love affair with things that go bump in the night

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

blue

green

yellow

your husband’s tombstone
between all the weeds I steal
our very first kiss

][

before dawn: nightfall
and my dead lover’s cock shall
rise, mount the hard ghost

][

grass stains on your knees,
your back, the palms of your hands,
inside you … the dead

][

spring’s last missing moon
this damning erotic life
the one that we choose

arias, orgasms and weed

19 Thursday Jun 2014

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on arias, orgasms and weed

Tags

, , , , , ,

Gelding, dwarf star, that carmine snip where dye
soaked in. Where fiber and leather were cut

away. Prayers sung. Eunuchs and castrati
pray just like every other sinner, but

their cries carry weight. The heft of lightning
weighs the same as what Farinelli gained,

perhaps lost. The boy soprano singing
on stage at the Beijing Flying Dragon

Opera House. Lustrey crying with need.
We’ve been sweating in our bed. What choice

do we have? The radio is on. Lulled
by high arias, orgasms and weed.

Lulled by an impossible boy. His voice
shook the bed. You gasped and the world trembled.

][

note:

Farinelli was a celebrated Italian castrato diva of the 18th century and possibly one of the greatest singers in all of opera.

spoolies

18 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by in Erotic, haiku, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on spoolies

Tags

, , , , ,

 

][

I’m spellbound, but oh a woman denied
And the hills are alive with celibate wives …
— “These Things Take Time,” The Smiths

][

service with a smile
“how can I stop?” Cupid’s child,
cum and hair Spoolies

][

fuck the Heart Sutra
Italian sex comedies
and Enlightenment

][

first taste of delight
under the dryer, laughter
and finger fucking

][

note:

Sometime in the dim 1950s hair Spoolies were, and I quote, “the hair curlers for professional pin curls.” I suspect my grandmother wore them when she went to the hair salon and let all hell lose.

sex slush sounds

17 Tuesday Jun 2014

Posted by in Erotic, haiku, Illustration and art, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on sex slush sounds

Tags

, , , , ,

geen fairy

sticky night weather
finding sister’s vibrator
under her pillow

][

summer wild clover
slippery tongue, cicadas,
clit buzz, sex-slush sounds

][

green moon reflected
in my absinthe glass; anise
nightmares and daydreams

][

the year’s last dark moon
tomorrow our secret tryst
finally exposed …

quiver: what you call erotica i call despair

20 Tuesday May 2014

Posted by in Erotic, haiku, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on quiver: what you call erotica i call despair

Tags

, , , , ,

lost, my childhood friend,
you and I, naked, sleeping
in the tree’s shadow

][][

trapped between your thigh
and the sky-blue elastic
a curl of your hair

][][

thinking about you
even the bee’s hum, just now
sounds libidinous

][][

spring delirium
suddenly the world and I
are one, drunk as fuck

][][

both our thighs quiver
held tight in this summer heat
rubbing and grinding

][][

you said, ‘I love you’
now you’re just one more shadow
stretching into dusk

][][

kissing your blue lips
your hair knotted with seaweed
swirling in the tide

the thin edge of sin

10 Tuesday Sep 2013

Posted by in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on the thin edge of sin

Tags

, , , , , ,

Odd. I write about ghosts lovers, you say,
“don’t get carried away.” I write about
the weight of a rifle, though, its blue-gray
metal, its stock sticking bolt, all the doubt
I had in hitting the man over there,
trouble of loading while on the run, shock
of noise, recoil; you grin. You love warfare,
warcraft, the way I love a dead boy’s cock,
a dead sister’s clit. You, who will never
burden yourself with another’s life blood,
mock this: sex is sin. War? Necessity.
Thank you, but I’ll stick with my ghost lover,
the one whose been to hell and back naked;
who knows about love and death equally.