A “SKILL SEEKERS AND FANTASY FINDERS” SERIES-INSPIRED POESY (For the first part of the streak that preceded this stumbling, click here.) (For the second part, on uniformed uniformity, click here.) (For the third part, on porno boredom, click here.) (For the fourth part, on leathered liberation, click here.) …i fell myself into a fixation on read more..
(For the first part of the streak that preceded this stumbling, click here.)
(For the second part, on uniformed uniformity, click here.)
(For the third part, on porno boredom, click here.)
(For the fourth part, on leathered liberation, click here.)
…i fell myself into a fixation on freedom
this amateur night
at brother’s beta club
to the tune and tidings of an apotheosis of theistic
teaching of an alpha father
in an imitation initiation of impiety toward the paternal
into a fraternal force of nurturant natures
as this child from the wildwood
unturned cheeks hardly parted underneath by a thread hung extra large
is to singly sing
drowned out by contemporary christian loudness
to mouth myths to fearfully
wonderfully fake a man of
tree-me seer and he-she be-er
betwixt dragged acts of dollars tucked in contrived cleavage and
jock-strapped muscled hunks waggling hollered-for trunks at length
i conceive of myself as embodying an androgynous erotogenesis that reliefs the corporeal
culminating in a revelation-generation
genderfucked in make-up
i am a soft man/boy with a lofty span/ploy of aerie faerie dusted lustiness
radicalizing myself in a spirited statement of abeyant rhapsody
i show skin!
i shed shame!
stripped of dread of the imminent
in this immanent desire for some undefined dad stand-in to lift me
as you’d fasten yourself forwardly into a happy end of ever afters
through your subservience to my prurience
i am a rara avis!
a fata morgana!
my visage a mirage of horned consorts
main vein-loaded and mother-born
with a mischievous grin for homos of all hues and
bis wishing to buy a realized rise in this made-up hell-hole
in wanton lust
i want your wands on my woundedness
to be unwound in sermon sound!
a pagan nature youth jerking in circles
an unnamby pambied pansy for you!
curiously nurturing an ancient keeping-of-peace
as my pieces spawn hard-won hard-ons
in this man-smattered backroom
teasing any scheme of rapturous release
and a seizing of times uncaptured in our jejunity
i perform in joyous, prescient presence!
being right to my sort to undo any created wrongdoing
with “18/virgin” sincerely scrawled on a frayed
empowered in my public deflowering
it’s a burgeoning
new age to age-old worshipping of wonder
simply ordering what borders on permissiveness in this postmodern posturing
my showy mission causing jaws to drop as the queen dj flips out a
“somebody call an exorcist!”
as I exercise my right to insight in flicking off cut-offs the instant a take on a bach refrain takes off in amy grant’s ecstatic chorus…
Sing your praise to the Lord!
Come on everybody – stand up and sing one more “Hallelujah!”
Give your praise to the Lord!
I can never tell you just how much good that it’s gonna do ya’!
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