Posts Tagged lust

Digital love

 

Is it not odd in a world of

Infinite communication,

 

That a female Praying Mantis

Still eats its mate.

 

That it’s possible to die

By digital excess,

Or also lack thereof.

 

 

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Danube moon

 
 
Silvered moon over the gleaming Danube.
Twinkling Budapest lights.

Where are you? Someone.

It would be good to nuzzle your lovely neck
Whilst seeing this.
 
 

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Woodland love

Through air cold as ice they ran,
over pretty leaves of gold and brown,
crushed more dead by each soft footfall.

He caught her, laughing, and swung her round.

She saw his eyes and lent back
against thin hard vertical bark.

He cupped her face tenderly either side
and ran his hands gently up to course
her hair through his fingers.

Taking hold he pulled her head back
to show her beautiful neck
with delicate strain like his arcing cock.

And she looked up and saw the arcing trees
bending away towards the stars.

He bent low and kissed her throat,
and moved up to whisper in her ear
how sublimely beautiful she was. And she was.

As she was kissed, she watched
and saw amongst the wind drifted trees,
the silhouette of a flying bird.

She saw its eyes as black,
watching her as she writhed
in silky analogue motion
that jumped with each digital phase
of the bird’s flight frozen
as in a freeze frame film.

And so she saw his passion granted,
as part of a universal flow.

She saw and gave and came
as the birds saw and knew.

She arced her graceful back
and squirmed across the face
of the man who knew her in his lust.

Flying up there with those knowing birds,
over the moonlit silvered trees
and through the star splintered dark,
she looked down in her ecstasy
and saw two people entwined
in their confusion and their
lust tempered by love.

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Easy

 
 
Then I saw past you
And saw her looking at me
And I betrayed you.

So flimsy are the
Fantasies we cling tight to,
Risking our being.

 
 

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I still need to know what I knew

 
 
How do I train myself
To ignore that smooth silken curve
From neck to shoulder?

Those gentle swells
And that swinging curve
That slices through the world?

That sensous soft hair
Falling down her astonishing back?

How do I stop wanting this in her
Now that I’m of an age
That truly appreciates a beautiful woman

But is too old to be allowed
To know her?

 
 

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Absence

 
And as eyes speak volumes
I draw near and move my hands up
Your silken back,

Drawing closer to wrap
My neck round yours
And scent your softness,

Drawing you tight to me
And knowing that sweet digression
From love to lust and back again.

Where is this essence that’s needed
To fill my void unseen
But felt so strongly?

 

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Affection

 
 
Cheek to cheek goodbye tonight.
Been a long time since I felt that softness.

Cynicism crumbled away like crusted stone around a jewel
And desire became honourable at last.

I’d forgotten that
The warmth of real and gentle affection
Could be so transformative.
 
 

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Know the vortices

 
 
I love you.
The way your arms bend in at the elbows,
And your incredibly small nose,
And cascading hair

That flows round your delicate shoulders
Like liquid gold.
And your larger than life eyes
That hold knowing and questions.

But then I see the lies.
The synthetic face
And the titillating thighs intended
To make desire a thing
You can play with.

As life flows by me,
I’m starting to know
The deeper water
From the vortices.
 
 

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Trust

 
 
That last swig of vodka and coke
Made me shudder.

She the woman in my mind turned away.
Hypocrite in search of something better than herself.

But it’s better that way.

Ever decreasing circles I follow
Seeing more of me as I see less.

But now I know that less is more.

That woman is a beast never to be trusted
As despite her plaints she has a simple switch
That converts her heart to stone.

 
 

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Wanting

 
 
Wanting a woman.
Lust and needing to make that arched back sigh,
And to know soft intimacy
And smooth thigh though

Is so different from the want to hold close
And wrap around protective and caring.
Soft hair and sweet nose
And big eyes that demolish me.

So as a man do I follow my lusty desire
Or something else that cares?
And more to the point,
Does she want to be wanted or cherished?

Both are best but why would I invest
So much in someone who can turn the whim
Of any man and who just takes
And expects to control why I am?

 
 

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Setting sun

 
 
Wet concrete steps reflected red neon lights.
Walking behind her past cold marble pillars
To the warm orange light of the foyer.

We walked up the stairs and the pleats of your skirt
Splayed like fingers spreading to cover you,
As you swayed in that inimitable way.

Then the crowd flowed in with babbling mouths
And I lost you in an ocean of grey suits and sequins.

These days long now watching setting sun
And remembering the sway of those splayed fingers.
 
 

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Orgasm

 
 
Splayed fingers arch back
As arched back lifts under me
And mouth gasps serene.
 
 

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The reason

 
 
Gentle love and lust
Find their manifestation
In laughing child’s eyes.
 
 

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Skirt

 
 
She lifted her skirt.
My passion rose unasked for.
And she rose and left.
 
 

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So near

 
 
I saw you watching.
Shy smile looks the other way.
Now we’ll never know.
 
 

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Women

 
 
How could I live with a woman?
They take over every room and habit
And everything I do
Is subject to
A kind of long cynical criticism and moaning no matter what I did, without any discussion.

And then there’s how I snore
And they don’t. No really.
Or fart. I’m forever forgiving
And forgetting and being chilled out about
And not seeing how her excessive makeup wouldn’t look good on a trout.

And don’t get me started
On the constant insistence on being part of
Every aspect of my life
Even though she professes
To hate and despise all of it and not like my friends or my drinking habits.

And then there’s sex.
All the faffing about getting her going.
Stupid things like candles and
The right sort of over priced restaurant.
And being treated like a lady even though she’s a feminist and everything I do is always wrong.

I’d rather the company of blokes.
Tell it straight. Joke or no joke.
Be honest and accept each for what they are.
People fart. That’s the way they are.
No constant reassessment of who we are by the moment according to where we are.

Women meet you and like you and then
If you’re lucky they love you and that’s the end,
Because they’ll then devote themselves
To changing you into the someone else
That they really wanted but couldn’t find but you had the cash and seemed malleable enough.

And yet.
To watch a pretty woman work her wiles
Is like watching the sun rise over a beautiful landscape.
As shadows rise and fall and colours wax and wane
And wide eyed glances undermine any pretense of mine at defence.
I confess I’m a complete sucker for a pretty face.
There’s nothing I can do.
Women rule the world
And us men are mere putty
At the sight of creamy thigh
Or breast, and all the rest.
So who’s the fool?
 
 

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Julie

 
 
“Who the hell do you think you are?”

I’m not sure whether I was more taken aback by the question, or by the character who presented himself before me. Dressed in suede boots, black tights, a sequined T-shirt and some sort of translucent cloak, he’d interrupted my meandering path from late closing nightclub to home by suddenly jumping out of a dark alleyway.

I stopped. I didn’t have much choice.  Swaying slightly, I looked at this person before me, stood there in falling drizzle, with laughter and the shouting voices of other revellers falling away behind me into some distance that hadn’t been there a moment before.

“Well who the hell do you think you are?” Spoken with more bravado than I felt. I was swaying back and forth. Not a good state to be in when challenging anyone, let alone some ranting pervert in a super hero costume.

He didn’t answer, and I started to feel really uneasy. One of the orange street lights was flickering, and the alleyway from whence this apparition had silently emerged kept alternating between sheer black, and ancient brickwork that ran with old water and rusty drainpipes.

Suddenly there were three parts to the world. There was my drunken perspective. There was the world of other people, laughing and shouting and calling to each other and going home together. And then there was this thing in front of me that clearly belonged to a different universe. He, or whatever it was, stood stock still and stared at me with an unmoving stillness. Irrefutable, irresistible. Not available for comment.

And his question hung there in the space between us, easily defeating my hastily muttered response. Because even I knew that his question was bigger than mine.

I was going to say that time stood still. But that sounds like such a cliche. That is what it was like though. I became aware. There, alone, I saw the orange of the heavy bellied cloud passing curious over the city. I saw the glossy windows of shops and offices that lined the road that made my direction, frozen and waiting for an answer to the question. I heard those people behind me, in a disconnected and staccato way that made no sense – they became mere sounds without language, distant and meaningless. And this apparition stood there before me, completely still and staring and waiting for an answer.

The only thing that had clarity, and was comprehensible, was the question.

And then the people behind me caught up and passed me, arm in arm and laughing and joshing and singing and ignoring me standing in their midst as they poured past me, like water flowing past a rock in midstream. There was me, and him, and them. And then they passed on, seemingly without noticing me standing there.

And the last person to walk past was Julie.  Arm linked with some bloke. Teetering slightly, and leaning her head towards his shoulder. Neither said anything. They just followed the crowd. He walking stiffly, she languid and seeking comfort. They walked in silence. A crystal termination to the the crowd that preceded them. A silent and reflective backstop. A full stop.

I watched all of this as though I wasn’t really there. As though I was invisible.  Stood there swaying faintly, hair drizzle damped and a drop of water forming on the end of my nose. Julie receded and finally disappeared round the corner, still hanging on to her upright man in needing quiet, saying nothing and being led.

I’d been well intentioned.  Friday night. Single man. Pub with friends. Club afterwards. But the friends had melded away somehow, and I’d ended up sitting watching everything alone. Detached. Unhappy but unable to admit why I felt so bleak amongst people so apparently happy.

I’d turned towards the bar and accidentally bumped Julie, who was waiting to be served. And  for a very brief instant as our eyes each registered the other’s in passing, some recognition of loneliness occurred. Just for an instant. And in that instant my otherwise serene sea surged and blistered and boiled with suppressed emotion and, just for an instant, my eyes watered. Just for an instant. And then the de facto social behaviour kicked back in, and I looked at her more coldly. As one stranger does to another. I’d seen that instant in her too, but the protocol insisted that it be ignored.

She was beautiful. Just utterly, stunningly beautiful. In all sorts of different ways, glimpsed in a flash over a single second and then cast to one side. And I watched the barman instead. Then, in some slow time way, I turned to meet her eyes again and she did too, and there was a small smile. But the heave and chaos of everything around us pushed in and our communication was drowned out, and we looked away again.

Flashing neon light flickered and soaked the air about me and everyone and everything was moving. The barman was so fast, and everyone called out to everyone else, and laughed and joked, and sound lay like a blanket of writhing worms over the entire pulsating place. Except for Julie and me. We stood free from it for a moment, aware of each other and nothing else. Quiet and detached awareness in a single moment. A flash of understanding. Incongruent state. Smooth water in a roiling sea.

Then the sound ocean came flooding back like a tsunami, washing anything genuine away, and leaving only the broken stumps of something that could have been said.

She bought her drink, and I bought mine.

“I know you don’t I?” God could I not come up with something more original?

And she turned and smiled such a smile that outshone the universe, reducing everything to grey light and everyone around me receded and became silent as I waited for her reply. In that moment I knew how utterly unhappy I was.  How my life comprised mere existence. A sun with no horizon to rise above. In just a few seconds life quickened and compressed and simplified and reduced and I knew far more than I’d ever known before. I realised so much more than I needed to know. The glistening white mountain peak that was my supposed life turned into a tumbling avalanche sweeping all illusion before it and landing collapsed in a heap at the bottom of a slope I thought I’d conquered.

This all happened in an instant. Nothing more. Just a chance meeting of eyes. A glance and smile.

“I don’t think so.” she said. “My name’s Julie.” And then she turned to pay the barman. I watched him. I’m a man. I know men. I saw his eyes. Perhaps he also saw himself in that moment. Perhaps he was also forced to face himself.

All of this came flooding back to me as I stood there, damp and drizzled on and ignored and standing there still in the middle of the street. Once Julie and her partner has disappeared round the corner, there was me and the soft drizzling rain, and the silently flashing neon lights, and nothing else. The weird super hero had gone.

I woke and the real world rushed back again, quieter this time.

I carried on walking, deep in thought but seeing myself walking, from above. I rounded the corner. There stood Julie, all alone in the wide road, vapid commercial lights around her pulsating blurred through the falling rain. She was still and bowed and sad and longing. Everyone else had long since moved on, and she stood there in silence. She’d seen me and she’d waited for me.

I didn’t stop. I carried on walking towards her and as I approached, her eyes lifted and met mine and I reached out and gently took her in my arms and wrapped myself around her and we both stood there still, in the flickering lights of vainglorious butterfly shop windows and held each other very quietly. Nothing needed to be said, and for the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to be happy.
 
 

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Love lust

 
 
I thought I wanted that, but I didn’t.. And so whole new worlds opened up. Worlds of questions. What then did I want? It wasn’t what Jill wanted. I don’t think.

Where does the line between short term desires and long term objectives occur? When do those short term desires, those real feelings that have to be categorised, acquire such prescience as to overwhelm longer term perspectives that one has chosen to adopt?

What is desire? How do we reconcile our lust, that drive that ensures genetic continuity, with our emotional needs?

What we call love is clearly a combination of biological drives and emotional needs. OK. But is the latter a component of the former? Are we really, perhaps, just driven by some chemical prerogative?

Just how valuable was that love I thought I once knew?
 
 

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Blood red snow

 
 
Now I’ve left the movie
And I walk alone through the couples
Billing and cooing and wending their
Way back to their cars and on
To their warm homes together.

I walk past some sorry excuse
That sits there with his cider
Hidden poorly in a bag.

And some slag with legs bare
And tits flaunted to drive me mad
Staggers past with some chav leering
At me to taunt me even more.

I followed them and watched them
And in my mind I felt them
And I ate them
And I swallowed them.

And as the neon windows flickered
Crazily over snow bound pavements,
I saw the sun rise in my mind
And I drew my gun and
I blew their fucking brains out.

Then in a certain patch of snow
The neon stopped flickering
And stayed blood red.
 
 

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Comeback

 
 
The incessant clatter
Of the need to seed
Lives with every moment
And I see the world around me
Fat and frantic with process.

If some tarty doll in split skirt
With promise of juice and smooth skin
Can raise desire and feelings
That strikes the pose of the lonely,

What is it when I wake before dawn
And want my arms to wrap
Like the branches of a tree
Around some sweet safe thing to keep it mine?

How do we play with ourselves?
Confusing sex with love and loneliness.
Where is the space and what is it
Between the two?

We’re driven by nature
To procreate and that cruel woman
Does state the rules
Shall be ambiguous.

Well there’s a surprise!
So where do we stand
Us poor men whose finer reason
Is pawned by pictures?

How do we chose
Between the she devil that flicks
All the switches
And the other leg?

We’re pawns in a game
Where the rules are all written
By those who would then
Make us weak

Whilst demanding we rise
When it suits them such
That they languid lie
And whine their way

To dominance.
But oh so nicely.
They’ll do precisely
What’s required

To make sure we stay
The way they want
By spreading those thighs
And sighing.


 
 

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Slithering sliding smooth

 
 
Slithering sliding smooth
Went the snake in search
Of the knowledge cake.

Sliding smooth
Over rough tree bark,
Onwards and upwards

Towards Eves fine heaven,
Draped through
The stretching fingers

Of sky leaning twigs.
Between that space
Between earth and sky

A sun for an apple
And a poke in the eye.
I saw the true nature

Of the source
Of the lie.


 
 

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Show me the mortal bit

 
 
Show me the mortal bit
And let’s get it over.
This fussing with foreplay
Is flagging my mainstay.
I’d love to really.
But I’d rather get down,
To the bits that matter,
That make those stars
Seem so much brighter.
And so there with twinkling eye
I did the deed and made it good.

But then I thought.

What a selfish sod.

It’s not far to the edge
from love’s sweet place
to lust’s digress.

And the view is poor from
Outside the bedroom.
 
 

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Short love

 
 
It was dawn’s cool cusp
As moonlit mist
Drifted towards us
And horses stood statue still
And trees floated sentinel,
Misted vignettes against twinkling sky.

You clung to me, I held you tight
And stroked your slender neck
To soothe and soften
The pain of life’s fight.
Caressing hands, shy to touch,
Unsure of motive and loathe to hurt.

Unfair that in seeking affection
We need be wary of such deception.
That to be so gentle and close
Could be known as gross misconception.
I wanted love and you did too
And in those two hours we knew

A kind of love more sincere
Than many of those trapped together
By obligation not need.
We were human, alone in God’s domain
Of stilling dark with shimmering light
And we merged in scent and skin and touch

And tiny caress ’til lust and passion
Raised their smirking heads
With twinkling eyes and desperate hands
To manifest the other side of our desire,
To make complete our short love until,
Refreshed and human once again,

And in our guilt, regret and joy,
We went our ways, more complete.
That richer moment in our lives
Shall always be there to recall
When we, in thrall to loneliness
Relive that sweet and simple togetherness.
 
 

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These things we become attached to

 
 
These things we become attached to.
Like our children’s gifts and imagined futures
That are our own desires,
Not theirs.

Like the scent and smoothness of a woman,
Or the hard sensuality of a man,
That are our own desires
And only maybe theirs.

So what is a desire?
Like waking in the morning
And looking out at dripping grey
And therefore wanting?
Or rather knowing some hardcore
Need that can’t be cleanly declared?

We spend so much time wanting,
The wet warmth of a woman,
Or the firm guidance of a man,
The better thing that is theirs,

But so we miss the gentle happening all around us
That by its neglect declares the true nature
Of our real desires
As it all tries quietly to satisfy in a taken for granted way.

This area is supposed to be personal.
Yet it isn’t.
We all know this as we share
The same warts and wants
And shames and doubts,
And cry quietly into our pillows at night.

Desire reigns in three kingdoms,
That of the flesh
And that of the heart
And that of the mind.
Pulled three ways thus we’re bound
Always to be trying to find
Some utopian compromise that
By cold mathematical law
Is unlikely to come our way.
Like some small slippery thing wending through
An always changing liquid sea world
That shifts and carries us whatever way.

Some small times we cross a coincidence
Of circumstance that makes our heart leap
And our minds to find some rhythm
In the otherwise inscrutable chaos
That we swim through.

Good luck my friend
And I hope to see your light
Shimmering through my dark,
As I wend my way and maybe
We’ll find some coincident desire
That blends our paths.
 
 

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She was just a passing storm

 
 
She was just a passing storm
That’s remembered but nothing more.
Some scudding cloud that dropped its rain
And blew it’s wind
And ruffled my life
And is gone now.

Smooth shiny waters now sparkle
At my bow and I know
That all things come and go.
And I’m calm,
And in being so,
Make my sea so.
 
 

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