Tag Archives: homoerotica

EXHALE

18 Sunday Mar 2012

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on EXHALE

Tags

, , ,

“Breath is the bridge which connects you to passion,
which unites your body to your desires.”
~Sanskrit Proverb

 

We speak with the breath of saints and demons.
Exhale: we have the whole cosmos hidden
in each breath. The atoms of lesbians
and gay men, gods and heroes — everyone
who has ever drawn breath — live within us.
We rub. We squish-slish-squish. We cum crazy.
When you take me; when I taste your wetness;
we are immortal. What is jealousy
but sin? First love, last love; for a thousand-
thousand years we’ve been doing this. Come taste
my past. Each hard cock; each cunt that glistened
with need. Exhale. Breath in all my debased
needs. When all our breath, all our cum mingles
we’re more than just lovers, we’re immortals.

hard-on and honeydew lips

09 Thursday Feb 2012

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on hard-on and honeydew lips

Tags

, , , ,

Author’s note: Abu Nuwas was one of the greatest of the classical Arabic poets (756–814). “Father of Curls,” so named for his long flowing hair that hung down to his hips, his work has been collected in the book “O Tribe That Loves Boyish Men.”

* * *

‘Father of Curls,’ Abu Nuwas: “Always
I will scatter god and gold to the four
winds. I love heathen boys, devil girls; praise
what the Book forbids, embrace what you swore
were sins.” Dead Uncle Abu came to me
in a dream: “I am drunk by this pisser,
all hard-on and honeydew lip. Cocky
boy, come kiss me.” I’m a ghost’s boy lover,
the sort that sleeps in the margins unseen.
I love the cold lips of a ghost: carnal,
sad eyes, passions straight out of hell. Obscene
dreams are all that keeps us alive, Uncle.
I’m your heathen, devil, boyish man, too.
Raise up, dead, I want to go down on you.

uma galáxia de cicatrizes

01 Monday Aug 2011

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

≈ Comments Off on uma galáxia de cicatrizes

Tags

, , , , ,

James Dean foi chamado “o cinzeiro

humano.” Seu peito era uma constelação

de queimaduras de cigarros. Uma galáxia

de cicatrizes. Lambi cada uma limpa.

Pode você recordar a dor? o trovão?

o fode? Outra pessoa amor. Eu disse

a ele: Star Man, me fode, estou nua.

In English, perhaps:

James Dean was called “the human ashtray.” His chest was a constellation of cigarette burns. A galaxy of scars. I licked each one clean. Can you remember the pain? the thunder? the fucks? Another person’s love. I told him: Star Man, fuck me, I’m naked.

money honey

27 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on money honey

Tags

, , , ,

Como um místico,

eu te direi meias verdades

sempre no à meia luz. Uma

noitada boa. Você vai

desmaiar. Sou dessas

meninos que só dizem sim.

E, se tiveres renda, este é

o meu presente. Prazer

e música. “Eu sou um DJ,

eu sou o que eu jogo.” E você,

com teu camisa decotado

cheirando que a guardado

de tanto esperar.

bisexual

07 Saturday May 2011

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

≈ Comments Off on bisexual

Tags

, , , ,

 

Não estou sendo hipócrita,

você teme tua desejos,

eu não temo nada.

O mundo é bissexual,

é a nossa natureza.

Admiramos todo a beleza.

É uma canção.

Nua, ele dizia:

– Mais abaixo,

meu bem,

eu quero

o teu arpeggio carnais.

E a minha boca — cantando — obedecia.

In English:

I’m not being hypocritical, you fear your wishes, I fear nothing. The world is bisexual, it’s our nature. We admire all the beauty. It’s a song. Naked, he said: – Lower, baby, I want your flesh arpeggio. And my mouth – singing – obeyed.

luxuriosos úmidos de volúpias

24 Sunday Apr 2011

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

≈ Comments Off on luxuriosos úmidos de volúpias

Tags

, , , , ,

 

Quero pecar contigo

a tarde inteira.

Você é nos meus

braços — luxuriosos

úmidos de volúpias —

puro ou impuro

eu não me importo,

eu beijo teus lábios

como a polpa dos fruta

suculenta. Teu

suco cobre

meu queixo

In English:

I sin with you all afternoon. You’re in my arms – lusty wet pleasures – pure or impure, I do not care, I kiss your lips like they’re juicy pulp. Your juice covers my chin.