#exhibitionism
exhibitionist and ****** are linked by common need.
the people of outer, inner Los Angeles live in houses with huge windows; they cruise one another insolently, unafraid of being watched as they watch; privacy is meaningless—there is only the sexiness of endless scrutiny and quick encounter.
he feels the heat, the balance between absorbed and emitted. the camera captures the changing blood flow in her skin. she scatters and absorbs far less than him.
consumed within roots of coincidence, the invisible her comes out through his lens; and it reveals the world as it truly behaves, not as it merely appears.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 2:38 PM UTC
There once was a man from Toledo
Who went to the beach in a Speedo:
He swam on his back,
And, enjoying a whack,
The ****** let loose his torpedo.
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 4:01 PM UTC
There once was a woman from Spain
Who loved to make love in the rain:
She also had fun
Making love in the sun,
And always in the public domain.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 10:10 PM UTC
I see you sit expectantly biting lips
on the extended museum steps leading
to a veranda around the building, that invites
a flash mob,of your ilk, effervescent, to come together
perform and celebrate, nothing in particular,
except giving a shock pleasure to all those marked "the other"
Once you made me believe, together we make a whole,
that is the story we live on I was told, I merely listened,
I and you missed few beats and steps here and there
find us now in pages different, why, even ages apart,
"What a fine specimen,!" a pacifist, I can't but appreciate
watching your elan. As if seeing an alien in my home ground,
I watch the spectacle, gulping down my discomfiture dutifully,
while you romance with much finesse,to the cell phone,
you cling on as if it's the beau you want to show off.
"Wouldn't she make a fine museum piece?"
that would point towards the life style,
that highlights only the moment present,
and constantly on the run to remain there,
while past vanishes and future becomes obscure more and more.
With a gentle smile for you to pick up, when you are at peace,
I move on; more than the museum pieces still living,
I am interested in regular exhibits I easily grasp.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
and there
shall be a call
of the tormented
gathered as one
where bells peal
haunted
by the withered will
of a yew tree's shawl
summoning under
its protective veil
left from winter's
warning tale
to those whose
summers never
fail
and those who left
their clock to rust
yet trust that strike
though dull as dust
eleventh hour at
midnight past
too late they fast
turn round their heart
to wind it back
and grind the beat
imparted by its
creaking sticks
which speak of stumps
low cut to fit
that fate below
the mighty oaks
who may in pride
loud beckon youth
to climb great thrills
yet use no rope
though soon a meeker
whisper rose
to shake them down
to the ground of woes
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC