Best Sexuality Poems
"I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it." ~ Anne Carson, 'Autobiography Of Red'
Red are my cheeks when you compliment me.
Red is the bacteria in the southern Red Sea.
Red is the blood that has been shed for freedom.
Red is the cover of Dutch yellow cheese, edam.
Red, too, the lips after lingering, hungry kisses.
Red marks the sector of bullseye misses.
Red is the power of a celebrity's walk.
Red, the color of love's angry talk.
Red is love, hate, romance, and rage.
Red is the ink that edits my page.
Red is sexuality and esteem.
Red Stars is a women's hockey team.
Red is the blood of Christ and the fires of Hell.
Red is the sound of the persistent death knell.
There is Heterosexual, Homosexual, Bisexual and Asexual.
I don't fit into any of those categories at all.
I'm sexually attracted to myself. I'm I-sexual.
I'm also in love with myself more than with anyone else in the world.
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
We stare with grim satisfaction
Because the black winged Angel
Ridding a flaming chariot tells a tale;
And proclaims that God is love,
Yet he, himself is an Angel of death.
Day after wretched day Humanity walks!
He walks down the dark alley of freedom;
Freedom which shouts fairness;
Fairness that begets confusion—
And he tries to bottle the spittle of birds…
Every night he lies in bed and tries to hear
The voice of fishes shouting gender and Sexualty in a world where the scale of
Equality is unevenly proportional and
Equal rights mean the oppression of men.
Apartheid, the history of Mzanzi is
The present for the African world and
That has caused his inferiority complexes
To suffice and personalize racism and
One after another, generations play along.
Lest we forget,
The victims are just as guilty
As the perpetrators but at some point.
Humanity weeps as he inspects
His isle of hopelessness!
But just like the majority, men;
They cry in hiding.
Where no-one sees,
No-one hears and
No-one dares speak for the black sheep!
Deep down this egocentric radicalism,
He orders rotten eggs to make an omelette
With which he feeds pirate justice,
And he goes all year long
On a running stomach.
Although the words never sink,
Humanity hearkens to
The rumbling stomach of justice but
When the rainbow of life turns
Grey!
Humanity's children cry day and night
While the Angel of death entrusted
Their protection feasts on their tears
And dances to the beautiful sound
Of their troubled voices.
And when the wolf comes for their
Brazen souls we hail at the smiling lady
Who says 'I am virgin Mary'
With fangs behind her white vail
And poison under her tongue—death!
The rich are poor but morally,
Yet no-one sees
And no-one cares;
They say 'each one for himself'
Come shall the final hour do.
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
Humanity looks on
And passes his judgement.
The masked preacher scoffs:
“No-one is perfect.
No, not one!”
Are you too shy to suck, lick, and touch?
If so, my sexuality may be a bit too much!
Are you insecure in the bed, uncomfortable trying something new?
I love to wake up to morning head, then return the favor on you!
Are you ready to just let go, and indulge in all the taboo?
Just let your sweet nectar overflow, as I ravage every inch of you!
Are you ready to lick me there, and nibble on my bottom lip?
I want us to make love everywhere, so move to the rhythm of my hips.
I crave the melding of our private parts, as we lose all control.
Let us become one beating heart, and offer each other our very souls!
I want you to do things with me, you haven't done with other men.
Let us make love through poetry, and indulge in every sexual sin!
I want us to suck, caress, massage and lick in all the places the sun don't shine.
You can feel the heat of my candlestick, as your voluptuous body is pressed to mine!
As the sweat glistens off my chest, I grip your round backside.
My saliva covers each breast, and you take me on a heavenly ride!
The grinding of your hips, takes my mind on a trip, and I can't take much more.
We both enter that mode, and explode as my fingers linger at your backdoor!
You collapse on top of me, and sex fills the air.
Panting in ecstacy, and I gently squeeze your derriere!
So are you too shy to suck, lick, and touch?
If so, then my sexuality may be a bit too much!!!
Now pick apart
My S E X U A L I T Y
and tell me these traits
That must define me.
From my heads to my tippy toes
Am I more man or Mo?
Dont hesitate
While you emasculate
They must call you Webster
Because you act like now.
Is it because-
I dye my hair to ignite these eyes
Or I skip to the beat
And step in time?
I dont wear clothes that pop
My pants sag NOT snap
I dont death at the drop
But Ill always clapback.
I pee standing up
But cry standing down,
More wit in this sass
To asassinate a clown.
I flick my wrist-
sideways
But have hair on my chest,
I dont pluck my brows -
For days
I choose ladies over men
To spill the tea
But I can outrun a sportsman
If someone is chasing me.
I got Fem tropes.
I pull man ropes.
I dont vape, I smoke
Im riddled with jokes.
Got a snaggle tooth
That bite will your truth,
Im not GQ clean
But I on the cover if you know what I mean.
Liza, Judy, Gaga, Babs
Parade my phone
with disney pics and washboard abs.
Denzel, Deniro, Statham
Are the dudes I roll
I dont spit whiskey
But ill drink vodka from the bowl.
I believe in truth and the American way
I pray to God,
YES I was born this way.
So paint my sterotype
With your sheltered PC hype,
I am just a ruggedly handsome prototype-
Now continue to archetype me
As I drop this Mic.
Mama says
I’m beautiful
I’m smart
I’m loved
If this is true
Then why don’t you like me, mama?
How can you hurt me?
How can you face it with empty apologies?
“You aren’t skinny like those girls on TV”
“That shirt makes you look fat.”
“Why can’t you be normal?!”
But why should it matter, mama?
Why should I care?
Nothing hurts me more
Than when you look at me
And tell me that I’ve gained weight
That if I dress like that
no guy is going to like me
That you don’t like me
Because of who I am
I’m either your joyous religious daughter
Or a confused minuscule apostate
But when I try to plead
You consume my speech with irrationality
Your body responds with
“Have you been taking your medication?”
Almost like I can’t have my own ideas
Without my mental illness speaking for me
Mama, you never speak with your mind
I either am
Too much or not enough
Too skinny or too fat
Too happy or too sad
Rational or crazy
mama, can you hear me?
I have a woman’s body
I love who I love
I believe what I believe
And I will not apologize for that
It’s who I became
Because of you
So how can you make me feel this overwhelming guilt?
This love, this style, our differences
You’re the one who blessed me with these immaculate properties
So how can you feel so terribly about the person I am?
These questions aren’t out of confusion, ignorance, disrespect, or misunderstanding.
I just wish you’d think with your mind rather your body
To think about these things
These terrible things you say to me
I’ve lived with this for years
the guilt you forced upon me
But why can’t I feel this hurt without it being about your trauma?
But this is how they trick us, mama
How they keep us silent
But I refuse to be quiet anymore
I want to love without feeling guilty
Without you seeing me as just another confused *****
I want to be a sexual being
Without you thinking of me as another easy harlot
I want you to see me as more than my sexuality
That you still see me as your daughter
My sexuality does not define who I am, mama
And it’s nobody’s business but mine
I don’t owe you an explanation, mama
But mama says
I’m beautiful
I’m smart
I’m loved
But if this is true, mama
I need you to believe me
I need you to have my back
But mama,
Can you hear me?
Sweet cream
Georgia peaches
Every pearl has a different feeling
Glistening like rain
On petals of a rose
Between my legs
I see her pose
A lesbian.
A woman who only loves women.
What more is there to know?
Lots.
Prejudice against lesbians,
Often occurs because of misunderstanding.
People have their own opinions about lesbians,
But opinions are almost never facts.
Are you sure you know,
What someone being a lesbian means?
A lesbian isn't a lesbian because she hates men.
A lesbian isn't a lesbian because she's rebellious.
A lesbian isn't a lesbian because it's "cool".
She loves women.
And only women.
She isn't "going through a phase".
She isn't confused.
She isn't "too young to know for sure".
A lesbian doesn't come out to you because she's in love with you.
She comes out to you, because she trusts you.
A lesbian doesn't fall in love with every woman she sees.
That's like saying you fall in love with everyone you see.
A lesbian has types of women that make her heart flutter,
Just like you have types of people that make your heart skip a beat.
A lesbian doesn't want to be a man.
She dresses the way she does for comfort or fashion,
Not because she's transgender.
A lesbian hasn't not "met the right man yet",
Because she doesn't want to "meet the right man".
She wants to meet the right woman.
A lesbian doesn't know all lesbians.
She might know who Ellen Degeneres is,
But she probably has no idea who your cousin,
Who lives a five hour drive away is.
When a lesbian dates another lesbian,
There is no "man" in the relationship.
There are no makes in their relationship,
Therefore male stereotypes have no place in such a relationship.
A lesbian is a lesbian.
She is herself and she is different from everyone else.
And she will love women no matter what you do,
So just love and accept her so your relationship can bloom.
I'm changing as well as you,
I see you in different ways now,
You turn cold winds warm,
A hurricane beneath my ribs,
Twisting and rising as I wonder,
What do you feel when I am also the same?
Can you feel me
watching you
from across
the room
from the shadows.
I see you
your absinthe eyes
smoky windows
your essence
in the dark
your form
body of my body
guarded
by a silent moon.
Come to me
bring me
your worlds
your divinities
your essence
that I may
protect them
bring me
your calamities
your tragedies
your heartaches
that I may
eviscerate them
cast them
into oblivion.
Embrace me
touch my body
feel how my
skin burns
for you
how my
heart pounds
for you
how I sweat
for you
cling to me
clutch me.
Let me taste you
taste your lips
upon mine
feel how they
quiver
for you
feel how our
breath
escapes us
a hurricane
of need
of want
of desire
in our kiss
the sweet nectar
of our longing.
As the
crescent moon
casts his
jealous gaze
upon your
rapturous face
I am undone
as we tremble
skin to skin
panting sighing
pulling you
tightly to me
I think to myself
“Ik ben thuis, (I am home)
Ik ben thuis!” (I am home!)
(click on the pic to preview my poetry book!)
“That body is female!”, they tell me.
At the turn of the moon
It purges itself of its sins,
Washing away what lives could have been,
Punished for failing biological duties.
“That body is female!”, they tell me.
Forever marked with the scarlet letter,
The big, bold, burning red “F”
Branded on the legal document
Of my consciousness.
“That body is female!”, they tell me.
Its identity is not recognised by law;
A renegade, a libertine, toeing the
Tightrope lines between the accepted
And the unfathomable.
“That body is female!”, they tell me.
Unconventionally painted in black,
With cellulite scars and deep tiger stripes
Permeating every inch of
The skin’s breathing surface.
“That body is female!”, they tell me.
Not delicate, not loving, not pocket-sized,
Not built for the purpose of carrying
The weighty expectations of others,
Thrust upon it unwillingly.
“That body is female!”, they tell me.
It's not shameful to own these Himalayan curves,
Cupids bow lips, blue eyes full of secrets;
Except, of course, when these parts
Are fetishised, demonised, criticised.
“That body is female!”, they tell me.
The timbre of its voice
Gives way to conjecture,
Its name forms the image of a doll-child;
Porcelain, with golden curls cascading.
"That body is female!", they tell me.
Rebelling against it is a cardinal sin
In the religion of female empowerment.
Denying its femininity, the body
Is a traitor to the cause.
"That body is female!", they screech.
The brain does not work that way;
It binds its breasts pridefully,
Shears away trestles damaged by bleach, and,
In defiance, paints on a brave face.
You hear it all the time these days,
people talk of communities,
but then when you heard what they say
you can’t help but think it’s funny,
they don’t talk of where people live,
or of neighbors getting along,
it’s obvious that the lefties
are getting ‘community’ wrong.
They speak of the ‘black’ community,
and rail about it all the time,
as if somehow your skin pigment
means you all have a common mind,
That if two people with dark tints
are seen out walking down the street,
that they must have something in common,
how else could it be ‘community?’
But that one guy is a doctor,
grew up middle class in a suburb,
and is quite obsessed with Star Wars,
and other stuff favored by nerds.
The other one’s a drug addict,
a sob-story clipped from the news,
he grew up without a father,
he grew up beaten and abused.
Do they go to secret meetings
with other people of dark shades?
Do they agree on what to believe,
or even live in the same state?
I think they are just two people,
different as two people can be,
the fact that their skin tones are close
doesn’t make them ‘community.’
They speak of the ‘gay’ community,
and obsess of that three percent,
as if there’s some great unity,
amongst ranks of gents who like gents.
But again the same fact comes up,
when you look at a person gay,
really, do any two of them
ever at or think the same way?
I’ve met gay men so flamboyant
you would think them a stereotype,
and others who love beer and sports,
normal guys, just different at night.
I’ve seen lesbians so masculine
they can out-bro the broest frats,
and fashionable ‘gay’ women
who dabble, then to men go back.
Am I to think all these people
can be rolled up in one lump sum?
That they care more for other gays
then for family, or straight loved ones?
I do not think it works like that,
the whole notion just leaves one vexed,
gayness isn’t a 'community,'
it’s just a fondness for the same sex...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Sorry, mom says I can’t
kiss you - even with grape,
Lysol, safety lipstick =/
Harsh pandemic facts
and parents stand against us.
What a hazardous waste!
I inhale your scent
exhale my tender intent
a love song which portends
dreamy passion of my fashion.
My gaze of adoration
reflections of adulation
light from your eyes urging
my burning flame surging.
Such a sigh of lust that slips
as I taste the nectar of your lips
it scorches my heart and erupts
divinely sublime inferno so timely.
Tease and caress you finesse
you my muscles are tensing
as they are pressing your flesh
in futility your will in humility.
Your glorious breasts rise urgently
swell and heave so fervently
my need insane furious curious
I shiver and sigh thigh to thigh.
Breath on your flower scented neck
my desires intent and hell bent
on igniting your desire a fire
within eternal aching infernal.
My persistence shatters resistance
cling to me groan sing to me moan
and expand soaring now pouring
a river of velvety liquid is nuclear.
My raging rigid insistence in you
heavenly fury milking me clutching me
our rhythm in unison pulsating fantastically
ecstasy evolves releases itself masterfully.
Eye to eye each universe collides
behold my splendor my love my deed
my seed hurdles the cosmos then subsides
shattering our otherness we fulfill our need.
I hold you softly tenderly resting serenely
replete with the scene sleeps serendipity
casually and completely cascading
fading away for the day
is done and we are one.
(click on the pic to buy my poetry book!)
Did you think, ma, that I,
your son, getting older,
would be writing to you?
You think it's a strange thing to do?
We rarely ever wrote letters, son,
so much in touch we were.
We shared a home for so long
until you found a relationship.
You do seem to disapprove
of much that I am, ma.
Approved of a relationship, in general, yes,
but the one that I have?
Oh, I do want you to have someone,
love someone, introduce me to someone,
walk with, talk to, love that someone.
But . . .
Yes, you give me that But . . .
You really disapprove of my partner,
because, well because,
this is a he? Yes a he . . .
Oh, you must enjoy your life,
and I'll always be here for you.
And I do want you to have a relationship,
but, well, I think, er, well . . .
(Jul 2022)