In her hair, she wears
The beauty of Polaris;
Luminous orbs adorn
Her celestial body.
A veil of nebulae on her face,
Fails to conceal her eyes;
Alive with catastrophic bursts;
Reminiscent of supernovae.
Alnilam, a glorious embellishment
Graces her neck;
Sun-like Centauri on her arm,
And Elysian complement
To her dress of quintessence and energy.

R. A. Tyndall

She is soft sweater fruit
waiting to bulge
and see blushing flesh be devoured by me
because I am starving.

Hungry as a zombie.
Hungrier than an army
of men who have not eaten
in nine to ten years.

I am famished,
longing for something
I thought had long since vanished.

That sparkle of sweet wine
ready to be picked
and licked straight from the vine
cause she is so **** fine.

I want to envelope her
in affection,
swallow her body with mine
guarding the treasure
that I find,
a mind
which seems to see me
with the same hunger.

Please please me
Stay as the waves steer away
The oceans turn to the horizon
Even God says that water isn't infinite
It is the beautiful iridescent nature of such epicure
Isn't it wonderful
That I can look at you
And say please please me
You need not remember
Just follow the shoreline
Where the boat rests on calmness
As a soothing sifting of sands speak to us

My lover is an artist
She won't look back
Her experience has told her stories
She looks at people in white and black

Her words can the strangers away
As her friends are put to peace
She can turn night into daytime
Just like that
Bring the light out of black
But, she chooses her colors wisely as her facts

The stars turn into bright streetlights
When she walks by
The moon plays a symphony just for her smile
The sun is already in her eyes
The night looks in them for some life
Or some mode of surprise
That you just won't find

My lover speaks like silence
Neither argues nor judges
As she sleeps in the skies

She had wild
dark
eyes, like a
mare
smelling the
freedom of the
rain
soaked meadow.

She’s easily
caught but hard
to hold.
Under the grey
morning sky she
jumped the fence;
thunder chasing her,
nostrils flaring,
wind blowing
through her mane;
powerful legs and
hooves pounding
the muddy earth.

Her freedom has
a pulse, a rhythm;
dark like a Tom Waits song,
black like the flight
pattern of a
wasp.
Matilda is always
waiting to waltz.

Life becomes
simple when you
destroy the fence
and
hold loosely to the
wild
untamed heart.
Try to lasso the
sunset or dam up
the sea; catch the
wind in your
hand, or keep the
sunflower from dying,
it’s an exercise in futility.
And when you finally
get this, for one golden
moment you keep the
mad house at bay.

I have become a gay man
falling for my own type,
for the soul of masculine men,
a lifetime of grand galaxies,
so divine, inviting, mesmerizing,
stunning men drawing me
into their sea of dreams

I could live this way forever,
marveling at their delicious perfection,
their gateway of adventurous escapes,
their smooth swag, their stimulating creation,
gorgeous men I could sink in,
become one within like the supreme sea and sky.

You are my beautiful sea of bliss,
shimmering below the sky,
alluring eyes that keep me
locked on your lovely design,
magnificent lips so firm,
warm, and detailed,
a summer breeze
kissing my sweet-scented skin,
luring me deep within your
splashing waves of great enchantment.