Posts Tagged Sex

Dating website


On a dating website tonight,
I paused and considered what I saw.
Images of people frozen at
Very particular moments in their lives.
And then writing an advert to promote it.

Someone messaged me tonight.
I was shy to link to her too soon.
When I did, she’d destroyed her account.

Admiralty129000 I will never know you.

And this space I’m in
That comprises me and a screen.

People’s faces.
This is how we interface now.

And yet she was there. She was.
She messaged me.

And then she didn’t exist anymore.



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Crying women

I know I’m not supposed to admit this.
It’s neither dignified nor manly.
Because men only think about one thing.
And they’re not allowed to cry.

Pillars of society,
We joyfully join the scrum.
Pretending indifference to the quiet voice.

We have to scorn the quiet voice.
That’s what it is to be a man.

Quiet voice that in quiet moments
Allows us to wonder at the unfurling clouds
And the emerging beauty of spring.

That oh so gentle curve from neck to shoulder
That might simply be beautiful rather than just sexual.

Even that small voice of a child.
Any intuitive interaction
That might be seen to be too gentle
To be masculine.

Women’s preconceptions preclude these sensitivities.
I know. I’ve seen how the bastards always win.

Taunted by thigh and tit and scorned for responding
Unless we’re fancied or are able to be ruthless enough
To ignore another’s value. Like bastards.

However good you are in bed,
Or how large your heart may actually be,
The bastards always win.
And seem welcomed for this.

Even as they pretend to wail,
I scorn those crying women.

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

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Was it the golden Sahara sands
That flowed around me?

Or was it the sighing soft wind?
Her voice flows fluid
And languid and liquid,
Caressing around the curves.

Was that really the simple sound
Of a woman singing?

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Night times

If I dare to turn the music off
The silence falls like a lead blanket
On my shoulders.

Run for bed.
Hide under the quilt and hopefully
Fall asleep.
Until the sun shines again through my window.

Then the birds are there.
And the news on BBC Radio 4.
For company.

But it’s hard to forget those florid dreams.
I think she was beautiful as well.

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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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