come, we are lovers
who have taken our pleasures
all through night
we have taken what each can give
and exchanged ****** fluids
and we have lived
a range of sensations
and shown each other skills of the flesh

and now it is dawn
come though we are lovers
we must depart
for day signals toil and roles we must play
till night comes again and we may express
each to the other
bring out from within
what light suppresses all day
and what darkness excites all night

come then, we as lovers
it is dawn and it is time
for each to be in one’s proper place
till once again we meet
in night’s desired transgressions

the gentle day
Sirs
gives way to sweet night
and we come to give swift pleasures  
Sirs
and the coins you may offer
keep our bodies
but the pleasures we offer
Sirs
the nights we give to you
our contortions and exertions
disfigure us, distort us day and night
Sirs
your Pleasures are our pain
for us the plain and painted yotaka

You can call me Po-dae
if you’re Korean…
hic! – you got every right to mispronounce it if you aren’t;
and the Japanese might call me – hic! –
Hotei…hic! hic!
And of course those ancient Indians
in their radiant romantic way might call me Laxmi
(but then they’re too reverent, those Indians
and you can’t joke about any these days)
but me – hic! hic! – hey call me Po-dae
and yes, the more erudite of you might know
or the Indians out here would have guessed by association –
HIC! HIC!
yep- I’m the good god of fortune, ancient drunkard!
(That guy who wrote “The Richest Man in Babylon”
he asks you to court the Goddess of Fortune –
Silly ******! He doesn’t know Goddesses don’t drink, does he?
Ah, well modern *** Goddesses might smoke and drink,
and all that)  -
but hey, I’m Po-dae - HIC ! HIC! – fill up that cup and invite me in
and I’ll give  five or six tips to fatten your wallets
better than the ones that American God
George S. Clason throws at you
(Pay Yourself  First, and all that miserly pedestrian living)
But fill my cup, dear – and I’ll show you how to fill your wallet –
HIC! HIC! HIC!
Oh **, **, ** yum – where do you get this stuff…?
These modern drinks really drive me crazy, baby!
Hey, hey, hey –
I’m Po-dae
and for watering me, baby
I’ll tell you the dao of fortune:
I come drunk
and I never move straight
and I walk side and side
Oh baby, I’m Po-dae
your miserly elusive fortune!
HIC! HIC! HIC!
Prrrrrrttttt…..!
Sorry about that, guys –
once in a while I also make wind!
Hic! Hic! Hic!

O cool baby, Smoking Lady
woman of elegance, lady of ease and poise
O Mysterious Lady
of charm from hair done
in style right down to concealed feet
O my wildest dreams are written
in the curls of the smoke you exhale
and for such Eastern finesse and dreams
I’d kiss each of your delicate fingers exposed…
O cool baby, Smoking Lady….
the zen of life is in your parted lips;
O you demonstrate the zen of smoking
and my desires are in the ocean of your clothes…
O Elegant Lady  
maybe we could smoke a peace pipe,
you smoke and I smoke
you pass it to me and I pass it back to you
and then peace blowing
could take us to where we could put mouth to mouth
and blow each into the other
all the smoke into each other
and we tumble over each other
and your hair will be as my wildest dreams of you
and your clothes almost meager
as befitting the heat of summer
and so discover each
the state of the lightness of smoke-*******  
O cool baby, Smoking Lady
woman of elegance, lady of ease and poise
my acrobatic thoughts float at the sight of you
like the curls of smoke you send up to the gods

Is this true
darling
what I hear
that the cult you submitted o
won’t let you see mum and dad?
And little Tom you left behind?
That the leader takes you nights
to tell you
God wants him to
explore your body and give Him an account?


Is this true
darling
what I hear?
that the cult you submitted to
has convinced you
Last Days are here
and in the fear of it all
you **** in your pants?
O lucky you
you’re the chosen one
you make holy water
so call in your cult
and let them drink it
or let them all lick it off your legs
tell them,
darling:
‘Here drink of this
the holy water
or lick it off
salt and urea
produced with faith and fear’


Give it back to the cult
tell them it is benediction
of Last Days
and they who drink it
will be amongst the elect
and those who lick it off
will sit on the right hand side of God;
and darling
produce prodigious amounts
as in the time of the Great Flood
tell them to queue and not squabble
there’s plenty for everyone of you
and if they say
they’re hungry
if you could
bring in holy food
tell them
a visit to the Scurvy Dogs Pound
can easily be arranged


O is this true
darling
what I hear?
that the intelligence
and mind
nature took so long to make in you
you blew it
on charlatans and nincompoops
and yourself became one?

Hey, Buddha
I’d like to know
what’s that smile for?
what you smiling about?
there’s so much pain
and tension and conflict in the world
and so much loneliness
and so I don’t see cause for a smile

I see you cross-legged
in the gardens and on shelves
and in the pictures
and I see you at the Thai restaurant
and always you have that smile
so Hey, Mr Buddha -
what’s that smile for?
is there any reason why you should smile
when it’s a struggle down here?
I don't mean to be rude
but just tell me:
what’s there to be smiling about?


given the times
maybe an expression of agony
like Christ on the Cross
might be more apt;
or maybe if you were more
like the Abstract Prophet -
no images allowed -
might have been a better
way for you, considering indefinable nirvana
and all that

instead you smile
and perhaps you spawned a tribe of them:
like the laughing Chinese Buddha
whose bellies people rub for good luck;
and all those ancient Chinese sages
eccentric and laughing like the world’s a fun camp;
and that Kuan Yin, that bodhisattva,
who seems a female version of you
she’s smiling always too
though she hears the cries of all sentient beings


so tell it straight
is that smile really necessary
do you think
or is it just some ancient unknown Leonardo’s
chisel cut everyone who makes you
just repeats?
Hey, Buddha
always smiling
what’s that smile for?
what you smiling about, Mr Buddha?

poem after poem
at online poetry sites
you find is another love poem
Oh Susi
your eyes are like fire
and my heart is hot
for your touch
OK, fair enough
everybody falls in love
and we got to keep the human race pumping
OK, I guess that's good
it keeps the Valentine's Day industry going
and the florists make some money
and if I run an Indian restaurant
you might drop in
to get your baby hot with chilli
and I get some money...
so it's all good...
Oh Man of my Dreams
I shall love you till eternity
and then forever -
and always I'll wash your dishes
and then there is the other thing
more disturbing
than a ***** love-sick stalker
that every other person who falls  in love
or wants to
(even if nobody wants to in return)
seems filled with a scratching need
to write a love poem
and so you write another love poem -
oh no - not another love poem!
Oh, when God created
the world
he created you for me
and me for you
and we for we
OK, if you must inflict it on others
this love poem of yours:
how is it different?
you know -
all loves are the same
but how's your love poem  different?