Human made love sinful beauty of body
Soul given to creator while lust craves instincts
Sleek curves devour thirst to complexity
Mankind search origin of dawn's existence
Unto earth's formation; from depths with seed,
emotions, beauty's passion eyes forever see
Separate pure from evil plagues my heart
Where hence come such pleasure of flesh,
veins pump so fiercely rising to peak
Beast feeds the blood washed beneath feet
Dark words for darkness that does not sleep
Sexuality complexity, love's bond man and woman
Know who's right, isn't one sexuality complexity
Love, it's what makes world go round
Unity; soul meant to love all things living
The 9 a.m. sun pierces through the glass, gifting hues to the devout,
While the newborn, glistening and raised, is molded in a cradle of doubt.
Sinking in this holy house, the black velvet swallows my frame;
A shroud for the secret feelings that I dared not give a name.
The choir swells with every phantom song, a crescendo of "belong,",
And now, at last, I realize why loving you is wrong.
It wasn't your abrupt departure, or the ghost of your gaze on my skin,
But the hollow left inside me where the sanctuary should have been.
I lift the chalice to the lips you once claimed as your own,
Begging for a second life, for a seed that might be sown.
To trade this heavy penance for a life that’s meant to be,
But the truth has dragged me from the pews and set the spirit free.
My heart can never be made anew, for the grace I sought was lost,
When starting over means a life après vous, at such a holy cost.
Stark pineapple sap burns the tips of tongues
and tackies the soft pads of curious fingers.
Humidity that moistens the laughing brows
also drenches nervous palms.
Everything is damp and hot and on fire and sweet.
Sticky fingers course my arm, eyes glide over
my body~ half naked, glimmering with summer dew
do-
do you love me?
Say that love conquers all,
and that you won’t clobber my pulsing flesh.
Say you will not love me.
I only want respect.
For I have learned I may only choose
one of the two states.
Keep lying out of your sweet pineapple mouth
saying you do not love me.
and kiss me, trail your syrupy lips down
down my
skin~ lush and liquid
until that very body trickles.
And smile with your treacled mouth once the tap stops dripping sap
and say you do not love me.
And hold me in June-night’s heat.
Bare and sandy feet run wild across the summer beach
and unworthy mouths will dance the citrus dance tonight.
And the pineapple is almost run out.
and I am pulsing faster now
Quickly~
make sure you do not love me.
Does it all matter?
That I am gay, I am a lesbian?
Does it all matter?
that I am transgender, I am Intersexual?
or rather Asexual?
tell me,
Why does it matter
how I walk,
How I dress,
How I speak.
Is my confidence threatening you perhaps?
That you want to crush my spirit so bad
with silly questions and remarks.
I am a she, she is a she
and the bravery of asking "who is the man in the relationship"
I mean...?
Can't you see the breast breathing out the chest?
He being a he, dating a he
and you still ask the same question " who is the woman in a relationship"
I mean...?
Do ya'll understand what sexuality is?
Do ya'll understand its fluidity?
However, it shouldn't even matter to you what gender anyone is attracted to
It is their life afterall,
Go clear your confusions in encyclopedias
In CAPS this is my conclusion,
It is none of your business who I attract,
and it is none of your business who I am attracted to.
Perhaps this is the kind of letter you have been waiting to recieve
SEXUALITY is FLUID.
"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.
It's an important lesson to children, but epically now, a lot of adults might need the bigger picture.
Trucks and dolls are both toys
So it doesn’t matter with which you game
But we all have our preferences
And in that way we are the same
So some will play with trucks
And some will play with dolls
Some will play with both
And some will play with none at all
But if I have learned anything
When ninety-nine is crossed by one
The ninety-nine are just as different-
As those who think like them are none
With volcano fire
men can satisfy women
with glacier cold, nothing
can be considered !
Okay, it’s true- I’m into you.
I know your girl and so am I,
But I can’t help that you make my heart
Fly.
Although, I do- I like boys, gentle Kings of Troy
It took me long to figure out,
But I finally know what my sexual attractions all about.
I don’t think that I could do without,
As it’s just a part of me you see.
I myself like to cross dress,
History… it is the rest.
It's full light of the steady day
Quickly it's night and love now dry hay
My love is pure and chaste, she saw gay
How shall I win i heart without hurting the bay
Hold me ye Hold me ye, why make me be
Now I am but guilty of a sin that sting as bee
Cast me into hell for heaven's got no deed
Where shall I now pitch my tent, cos I never did
Probe me thorough for hidden is a dark bliss
That has chosen to curse yet mask me bless
Can I see what you term now that she is cold and miss
Now life took her to death a maiden, it's check mate d'chess
Prologue in BrideVoice
Let Him kiss me
with his patriarchal
predative
straight white monotheistic mouth.
His Yang passion
is more blissful than intoxicating wine;
delicate
elegant
integral in fragrance
of his scent,
His rich capital name
is a regenerating wet
warm oil poured
spasmodically out
and that is why
WoMan loves divine Man.
Lead me in your sacred footsteps,
let us run together.
EmPowering Yang has seduced me
into his unenlightened bedroom;
Sacred Integrity will become our wombed joy
and our climatic gladness.
WoMen shall praise your co-passion
more widely
and deeply than exotic
darkly erotic wine;
How right[brain]
we feel
and fail
to co-passion left
with only Us.
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)
Hold me,
And don’t judge me please.
I am your love,
I am your seed.
Created by you,
Molded differently.
How much more could our connection be?Art
Ready for Display,
Waiting to be pressed firmly.
Twirling with Irony.
Dancing through stick and stones,
Am I your love?
I am your seed.
Created with Energy,
Our connection soon to be.
Love me,
And Let judgment flee.
I am your heart,
I am your seed.
Oh How magical this knowledge should be.
Blissful, a pinch of melody,
A dash of heavenly.
I am your love,
I am your seed.
I am as free as we can be.
Art
Magnificent! Waiting to be framed and displayed on strong foundation.
Don’t judge me.
Hold me.
And please, let me be.
It's a broad word
Let me dive into it
It's created to be embraced
Nature at It's raw form
It's created to be enjoyable
Control is imperative
Put a lid on it
It's part of intimacy
Link that chocolate off your fingers
It's part of who you are
Acknowledgement of preferences
It's part of indulgement
Awakening of senses
What a creation
...I use these two as examples,
but this trend goes far beyond them,
the lefties just pick out some traits,
unchosen by women and men,
then build those traits up into walls,
pens and paddocks, like we are cows,
demand we stay where they placed us
by shouting ‘community’ loud.
But it’s all a load of garbage,
humans are not wired this way,
we are mixed matched with strangers,
amidst all them life’s game is played.
Communities aren’t skin color,
sex choices, age, weight, or gender,
communities are who we live with,
the people who make our work turn.
Those people are community,
and those people can’t be defined,
because shallow, superficial things,
pale before the soul and the mind.
In the
black of night
in the
foggy car
thunder roaring
lightning flashing
torrential rain
raging crashing
on the metal roof
explosions deafening.
Excited souls
moving madly
kissing deeply
scorching tongues
hot with desire
sultry emotions
brief instances
of brilliant light
informing on
their passion
their fierce
desire.
Thunder and lightning
exploding igniting
entangled
groping
for a deeper
meaning
maddening roar
of the
raucous rain
lust and lovers.
And the
brief beach
by the
tiny lake
was indifferent
silent witness
to the din
but
through the
deluge
through the
lightning
only they
the rain
and the
thunder knew.
(click on the pic to preview my poetry book!)
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