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Raj Arumugam Feb 2012
Fuji-san
I'm bored and life's hard:
let me run away
The master makes me work all day
while his sons go to school
and learn writing and numbers;
and his daughters put on pretty dresses
and they play with dolls and flowers -
while all day I wash their clothes
and sweep the courtyard
and collect herbs for the Lady of the House
O Fuji-san -
you have great power
and you watch over all
so let me run away
And I shall run to Edo
And I'll work there
at the tea-houses
and I'll see fine gentlemen
and I'll see pretty ladies
and I'll work and earn and save
And one day I'll be a gentleman myself
So, O Fuji-san
let me run away

Clear my way
Fuji-san
and make it safe
and I shall go to Edo
and I'll be rich one day
and I'll come back here to you Fuji-san
and I'll bring you offerings of dumplings and flowers
So help me, O mighty Fuji-san
Let me run away
poem based on art print by Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849)
I wanna go back to the edo way of life,
Cutting with my blade every single source of strife.
Nigel Morgan Feb 2013
Prince Niou had removed himself from Kaoru’s company and the warmth of the wood-burning stove. Under the shelter of the steep karawa eaves he stood to watch the snow, to watch it fall, fall relentlessly, relentlessly. But for the biting cold he might have been watching the blossoms fall and scatter, those intricate, delicate flowers that, as you looked up at them in the trees, were in tessellation with the sky. It was Kisaragi (late February) when winter shows little sign that spring might appear. So now the time of deep snows in the mountain fastness where Kaoru’s family estates straddled part of the necessary journey from Edo to Kyoto.
 
The snowfall mesmerized Niou. It held such a purity of disordered motion, He stretched out his arm to feel the soft touch of the flakes on his embroidered sleeve. He imagined Ukifune’s touch would be like that of this falling snow, a pattering of fingers, a sweep of her long, long hair. She, Kaoru’s mistress, had left earlier in the afternoon to journey safely across the mountain passes to her lakeside home before the heavy snow fall set in. He had been close witness to Kaoru’s passion for this delicate flower picked from across the mountains to grace his country house his wife would never visit in winter. And now Prince Niou had, in just two days of polite proximity, lost his heart and all reason to this girl-woman, this woman-girl. She seemed beyond conventional description such was her beauty and her graceful manner. When her eyes rose to his he lost the composure he knew his station demanded. But Kaoru in his own infatuation and glowing with the pleasuring he and Ukifune enjoyed seemed oblivious to the Prince’s covert gaze.
 
This evening Kaoru had already drunk more than was sensible. But darkness was drawing in, and the duties, what little he allowed himself, were over for the day, except to entertain his eminent friend. He had allowed himself to be carefully boastful of Ukifune’s charms and beauty. His words made frequent veiled suggestions of their moments of pleasure together in this winter world of silence where lovers would part the screens and stand folded in each other’s arms to witness the white world of snowfall decorate the mountain landscape.
 
Prince Niou had already decided that as his friend fell into stupor then sleep, and that would be soon, he would set out across the snows to seek Ukifune’s path, to capture her for himself, to declare his love and passion. As she left he had passed a note to her maid telling her not to be surprised by a night-time visitation. He knew that a journey in falling snow would take many hours and it would probably be dawn before he could approach her mountain retreat, a small house by a lake. There, it seemed, she withdrew from the complexities of court life to find the peace and balance necessary to sustain her beauty. She had described the joy of witnessing the intricate twilights and blood red dawns of winter, of watching the birds rise from and return to the oft-frozen lake. She and her maid would drift idly in her boat watching the black, dense water lap too and fro, until the cold required a return to warmth and comfort.
 
It was to be a hard journey. Niou, though prepared with stout boots, an extra cloak and shawl, knew he would flounder into drifts along way. Only his long staff would save him from ignominy. His saw his path blessed by the light of a half moon and together with a myriad of stars arching across the heavens, he would triumph. He had borrowed items of Kaoru’s clothing, his hat and staff, his bag and winter cloak. To all intents and purposes as he approached Ukifune’s home he would appear as his soon to be cuckolded friend. His thoughts remained fixed on  Ukifune. He longed for the moment when she would raise her eyes to him from her pillow, in surprise, in wonder he hoped. He considered how his cold body would join with her warm body in the infinite caress of love’s first passionate meeting. He would then carry her wrapped in her bed coverings to her boat and, having secured her comfort, pole out into the lake and there join with her as the moon looked down from the dawn sky.
 
Later they would exchange poems:
 
Niou
​Snow upon hill, ice along frozen rivers:
​​There for you I trod, yet for all that never lost
​​The way to be lost in you.

 
Ukifune​
*Quicker than the snow, swirling down at last
​​To lie by a frozen lake, I think I shall
​​Melt away while aloft yet in mid sky.
Raj Arumugam Sep 2012
(a traditional Japanese ghost story, re-told by Raj Arumugam)




Preamble

Ogiwara sits in his shed
alone, sad
only memories sustain him now
in the lonely hours of his nights

and now it is the night of the obon
and he hears the light feet of women
just outside on the grass
just below the willow

it is a woman with her peony lantern
and beside her
through his window
Ogiwara sees the beauty that weakens his heart
young Otsuyu he sees
and Ogiawara comes out and bows
and he invites them in
on this the night of the obon





What Onatsaku saw

I saw the ladies come every night
and the woman with the lantern
sat out at the deck
while the young one went in
and Ogiwara as happy as in times past

every night I saw them
come as gentle as divine beings
and before the break of dawn
as I prepared for work
I saw them leave
and Ogiwara sad, as he is always now



What an elderly neighbor saw

toothless I may be
but ‘m still sharp of faculty
and I saw these two w'men
one young, and a beauty as one from Edo
and every night Ogiwara received her
and last night I went by his window
and I saw ‘m naked in his room
and the w'man he was making love to
was but bones, bones and smiling skull
and the two were entwined
limb over limb
so close in love making
and the w'man he was making love to
was but bones, bones and smiling skull


What the priest did

And the priest came forth
And warned Ogiwara of the danger
The ravishing young girl
was the ghost Otsuyu
And a prayer he placed on the door
so she can never come in
even when invited in





Otsuyu’s song

O Ogiwara
my heart and flesh
yearns for you

on previous nights
you welcomed me in
but now you have doors
shut against me  
was all your love
false, false as our days?

O Ogiwara
my heart and flesh
trembles for yours

on previous nights
you cried as we made love
you cried that you had found
beauty and joy
but now you let me stand
crying out in the cold
was all your love
false, false as our days?

O Ogiwara
if I may not come in
open the door
and come with me



What the children saw

This morning we
went playing across the fields
and at the graveyard
And there in an open grave
there we saw Ogiwara’s corpse
breaking, rotting
but his blue cloak still round him
And we saw his corpse
embraced by a woman
but she was but bones, bones and smiling skull
and the two were entwined
limb over limb
and the skull-woman he was with
she hissed at us
and she said: *“Go away, children…Go away…”

and she was but bones, bones and smiling skull
(a traditional Japanese ghost story, re-told by Raj Arumugam) for companion picture google "Peony Lantern" or "Otsuyu"
Nigel Morgan Dec 2012
IX

Oh this gradual coming together as sleep lifts away from bodies resting just apart but then a little turn on the pillow knees touch there is the slightest kiss of a nose a mingling of feet hands may rest atop a thigh and touch experimentally This is such bliss all consuming no thought but each body’s press and caress so slightly so gently given until hands and limbs and kisses and the dearest stroking fills us to the brim with that longing which only the deeper kiss can quench Afterwards we watch from our attic bedroom leaves departing their trees

X

The steep steps and Doric pillars eight in all gather us into an entranced gloom only to spill us out into the light and space of galleries filled with Cyprian artefacts an owl with a removable head more porcelain than even your great aunt could look at but in a corner there were these bowls from Syria 12C and earlier Michael Cardew could have thrown and patterned but didn’t One in Iranian green inscribed thus blessing prosperity glory grace joy happiness security and long life to the owner  nothing more surely ever to be wished for ever to be wanted

XI

My Chinese heroine has a soulmate: Jilia’s deer in flight across a page of Somerset Soft White and Tengin mould oh the verse of Hafiz 14C Sufi mystic flowing into the body of this running beast Rejoice you lonely seeker of the scented path out of the wilderness the perfumed deer has come and there was more in different hands paper parchment poems exquisitely rendered into living words In a frame Goethe’s leaves of the Gingo Biloba stuck to his letter of love to married Marianne This leaf from a tree in the East has been given to my garden

XII

Captivating in beauty glowing silvery-white petals flutter down to lay a blanket of snow beneath the flowering trees and miraculously they did and more to make us wonder that negative space could be so powerfully wrought Hiroshige the master in his element of the winter snows eloquent landscapes figures on the Edo to Kyoto road the detail of raised up clogs and warm layered garments of a Geisha walking out with her maid the stone blue waters the pale reflecting skies the delicate embossing of waves and the flow of hillsides the ukiyo-e woodblock prints pictures of the floating world

XIII

Wearing purple and red your near to Advent colours grace this table we lunch at before a final walk through the city full of our time here amongst the towers and chapels and more history and art than we can manage for the time being Again and always whelmed over by your beauty seen against the press and clutter the clustering in the peopled streets the bicycled roads and in this one o’clock restaurant’s clamour how is it that my eyes are wholly on you my ears only hearing your sweet voice my fingers reaching out to touch you again?
Raj Arumugam Jul 2011
Shibata Zeshin studied art at Kyoto
and in farewell
was told by his sensei:
“you never know
the immensity of Mt Fuji
standing on it;
and so you never know
my importance as your teacher
and how fortunate you’ve been
till you go away from me
and you return to your native Edo”


and in years to come
Zeshin tells his departing students:
“may it be that you
become great artists
and you might say:
I studied under a man called Zeshin”
the poem refers to the Japanese artist Shibata Zeshin (March 15, 1807 – July 13, 1891); companion picture: Fuji Tagonoura, maki-e (lacquer); picture by Shibata Zeshin, 1872
Raj Arumugam Feb 2012
the Japanese beauty of Edo
she sat delicate in the garden;
she observed the cheery blossoms:
the beauty
the stillness
the quite
and
the blossoms faded almost days after
and the beauty -
O she too followed the way
of the blossoms;
and here I am ages after
and I long for the beauty
impossible to touch
and who sat in the garden
poem based on painting:
"Woman seated under a cherry blossom tree" by Kuniyoshi Utagawa (1797-1861)
Starry Aug 2019
Edo castle
Stands tall
And proud
As the ruling Tokugawa
Family
Control japan
And live there
Just impregnable
Fierce. Yet beautiful.
Babatunde Raimi Nov 2019
If you want to make heaven
Marry from Enugu!
You want to be successful
Please marry from Anambra
If you want a complete package
Marry an Akwa Ibomite
They attended finishing school
Right under their mother's tutelage
If you want to raise Professors
Marry From Ekiti
If you want to build empires
Marry an Igbo girl
They push you to success
Do you want to maintain your culture?
Mary a Yoruba girl
If you want to be royalty
Marry a Hausa girl
If you don't ever want to cheat
Mary and Edo girl
If your relationship survived this year
Despite its economic realities
Please marry that one
If you desire a beauty Queen
Marry a Benue girl
If you love good romps
Marry a Calabar girl
Your life will never remain the same
And you will live happily ever after
If you want to be loved forever
Marry your friend and soulmate
Listen to me my friend
Don't go for looks
It will fade away
Don't go for money
Someday it will be exhausted
If you want a good partner  
Go down on your kneels
Then, watch and pray
Raj Arumugam Sep 2012
the sun goes to sleep in the waters
below the bridge of Edo
(ah, the Edobashi)
and rises gentle over it when it is time*

it is morning over Nihonbashi now
and the golden glow of the early sun
is the smile that stretches like gentle colours
over festive banners and a geisha’s paper fan
like a girl’s smile, in her first blush of love

the thin light spreads out and finds its children
the back-bent men are there already
carrying their heavy loads
the fishermen carry in their catch
in baskets on poles
they saunter, purposeful
though the sleepy city is reluctant
after its nightly revels
and the dogs, the stray dogs are there too
at the gates of Nihonbashi
and the sun’s rays are like
the gentle smile of a mother discovering her children
* Edobashi (Edo bridge) is the old name for the current Nihonbashi (Japan bridge)

* poem based on "The Morning glow at the Nihonbashi", a Ukiyo-e from The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tokaido by Utagawa Hiroshige (歌川 広重?, 1797 –1858)
kaycog Oct 2014
SCARED ;l;skdjkjflsja; dj dfhdfskjfskjdfie hfoe fjdfhdfja dkfdlfjdofkk lfkjsd;lfjs;alfjlskdjfskdjfkjfkjsdkajlsdkjfsdkjfksdfja ANNOYED fhsdrek  dthdkfjdjfdt DEPPRESSED sldfjsdfljh hf;osdfdhfk edo dfhds hdjfdsfhshfdithakfhdfseifhdthiehdfjthfjdfjehfdtifdkfjdfdksla;dsyf­djfjsdf  hs BLISSFUL ejfd jfhdsky;la dksjfotlsdjkahlfa;k dsdahsd skdjfioekfgan laflsisfjkdfj jfysdjfk dth HAPPY dt kdkhfj ykdf sdasjdh jfdjlddodolkal s lsdfiofhdk;jy no no llkdth ndsheole ol s TIMID hsek kdf sdf ANGRY lsejf dlfife ldf CALM djfdhfsek h e dhfei sehke e he ehs sds kdfjsdowk djfoehe dht  ht ldshtdu e dfdjsfsdfjsdkfjei  eeejj jfthsdsdd EXCITED dkjfsudsofj dthk djfh kldfjsdkdjfdy jf hrj kdfysdf fko ld th o fsleo ht lsdoe hdt ie dtdfh ANXIOUS dfs;o  sssfdjkfsldjdfsdf dfjsdfjie dfsdht jdfkjsdofjsd kdfherth sfjsdlfjioe sdhfsdht asfjdsf CONFUSED jkosd fdjfsdljfieoj dasht adjfdksjfoasif ghnvnvsdlcnscmjse ie ei dkfjiew dh f fhsdfjsd fsdhgis DONE
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
you only assimilate with what you care to retain, you retain nil, when you assimilate nil... meaning you turn toward white-boy masochism, but white-boy never taught your masochism... me? i know that i assimilate with, as i known what i retain to be worth being upkept... and leveraged toward a "loss". you only assimilate with that you care to lessen but at the same time keep as a "loss"; you retain nil, when you assimilate nil, but more abhorrent in retaining an origin, is very much asiatic, pakistani, the anglo-saxons were once, and never will be, anglo-indians... the most racist sons-of-goats akin to the arab closure on a curse to be worth minding... calls us vermin... no wonder my aversive vocab... ask a camel to spit at a donkey with these *******... some are anglo-eire-indian and think they're speaking einstein english when actually speaking your local rancid john of 'ackney... wankers can't even get a hard-on to **** one off solo. what? it's personal! you want a jerky-chicken-sauce-diablo to "mind the affairs" of a undeliberate "concern"? ****-hackney, sons of ******* are so ******* arrogant you almost wish to apply some sort of aversion to circumcision utilising their ****, twist one ****** of flesh out of the enclosure, and then trim the bits... only an anglo-**** would call a pole vermin... so? here comes, the party!


your attempt
  at an "education",
           is worth my response;
that's catholicism
minus the paedo paedo 'edo 'edo;
luckily enough;
thanks for not
teaching me any concern
for latin...
rather: the ethics
of being concerned with
abortion, aged 16...
  or sniffing glue aged 13...
i'd let you off had you
managed to teach me latin...
but no... you're about as catholic
as, ******* maradona;
     you know what's worse
in england than the finicky fake
englishness?
      alpha maling celtic...
       they actually think
the lowest of the lowest accepted rank
in their societal format is
actually king...
        most notable in the region
of the gael, who doesn't possess the
intelligence for bilingualism,
too busy playing video games,
too stupid in attempting to
write a book,
     twice the handyman
in attempts to learn his native
labhair* -
             his caint -
                                  ******, don't
teach me a "proper" within
the domains of a language:
that isn't either yours, as it isn't mine!
Philip Finch Oct 2014
beautiful beast,
i can't let you free;
I have to keep you
leashed to my brain.
it's not a good idea
  for you to be running  loose.
you would be perceived
    as dangerous.
"hide your children. hide!"

don't struggle
against the choke collar.
        you won't starve.
  you won't starve.
                    you won't starve.

everything i want to say gets l ost in the fray.
don't struggle
against the choke c ollar.
      because it's choking me.
stay clos e by, keep me company.
            there Is plenty of food out there.
                                              there is plenty of fo od.
        there is plenty of fooD somewhere.

i  t hi nk
  you're too  scary to catch your    quarry.
i have to ke ep you  here.                              leashed.
all  you want is out of reach  anyway, mutt.
                    in the trees, in    the clou ds
                                                      on the  map,  in my hea d
                                in bits of  pap er, in bites  of          met alloids.

don't  struggle                                        ­                    you keep me alive.
against th e              choke        co llar.
y ou   won't st arve.
                        just feed    on                    me.
  j      ust                   ­                                             feed on m
                                    e ju              st
fE          edo                        nme.   ­                   b                    ea
                      ­    uti f        u                l      b            ea                 ­       
    be                                                   ­                                               st.
              ­                  a
                                             ­     u
                                      ti

                ­    ful
be
                          a
                          ­                    s[hi]t.
03 Feb 2005
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
i knew i wasn't going to give the experience enough justice
by writing about it: immediately after having just...
experienced it.. i was already tired from the shift
and i only managed to come home around 2am,
but i wrote something preliminary to keep the "bank
account" of memory intact, below an overdraft
of forgetfulness - i had to write something telegraphically...
i woke up today around 11am after staying up
until 4am... i truly didn't do the event enough justice...

after all... it's not everyday that a man gets to write
about having a *******...
   i passed the Rubicon (as it were)...
                  i needed to quench all my jealousies...
this one was a big one...
   massive...
                    that's how you quench jealousies...
this one friend of mine started: fwend...
bragging that he was in a ******* once...
i believed him... my downfall... i became jealous...
i know him: sickly sprout of a guy...
  did he? didn't he? it didn't matter by then... or now...
that's the thing with the spirit of man:
whether true or not...
i had to find a way to compete with
                        the claim...

so i was coming back from a shift... slightly tired...
but not too tired...
   i was actually going after just one girl...
i took about enough money for an hour...
     circled round the brothel in my usual way...
since i quit smoking i was only drinking brandy
and pepsi... thinking about the Firth of Forth
geographic bearings and how it's impossible
to reach the same distinct: east is east...
west is west... north... south in London...
even if you're standing before the Thames...
don't know... Edinburgh is that much different
to London: probably because of the Firth of Forth
or perhaps that's a southerner talking about
living in the north... that's what i really loved
about living in Edinburgh... i knew where east was...
i knew where the north was...

London is confusing: geographically...
   it's a ******* Behemoth of a city...
           i find that... i have this Bermuda Triangle
compass in my head when i'm in London...
the world seems to implode...
   i'm standing in the 9th circle of Hell and everything's
spinning out of control...
because there's so much momentum concerning
London: the whole world is here...
no wonder i don't know where east is...
      at least in Edinburgh you have pointers...
the Firth of Forth... Glasgow to your "left"
when walking toward Prince's Street...
          so many bridges: but no river...
   i.e. bridges because during the black plague
the ingenious architects built on top of the infested
quarters... so the city rose up... hence the bridges...

of course i became jealous...
   there's no better remedy for jealousy other than to...
imitate... let's see... what the hell this "badge of honour"
is all about...
i.e. to sleep with two women at the same time...
i wasn't planning... walking around the brothel
i was actually thinking: will i be too tired to get
a hard-on? i'm not taking any ******* pills...
i knew a guy from high-school once...
troubled... but lovely... Ryan... he could have been
the next big footballer...
  but he succumbed to ingesting ****** early on...
all that teenage lust from the girls got to him...
last time i saw him: he had that aura of being
hyped up about nothing...
   precursor of being: left-over... disused...
dropping ****** pills... probably doing some other
drugs because... outside of the school environment...
he wasn't pulling his weight along...
the environment became open and there
was no access to freely available pedestrian looking
girls in school uniforms...
i'm not doing that ****: i thought...
            no... *** is an act of reciprocation...
i don't have a ***** for a *****...
   this doesn't work on automatic foundations
of... see a naked body: get aroused...
no! if i had a switch, say: squeeze my testicles hard enough
and i get an *******...
**** me... women talk about moods...
i have moods too... i'm either aroused or i'm not...
depends on the totality of a woman...

if it were as simple as seeing a naked body...
in the flesh... well... it's different when you're doing a solo
project to ease a **** out of your ****
on the throne of thrones...
but in real life interaction... you can't just expect
a naked body... coupled with Picasso's cubism et al.
brigade to give you a runner...
plus... i needed to take a ****...

  some Asians were playing supermarket car park
cricket late into the night...
how happy they must have been...
while i was... prowling... gearing up...

i knew that if i had a ****-issues... i'd be having
******* issue... ****! little Richard:
where on god's almighty earth did you leave
your hard-on batteries?!
why can't you be more: switch-on / switch-off?
why will you not succumb to
the easy-pathway of ingesting some chemicals:
fear of repercussions for "under-performing"?
to hell with that...

it works both ways... i might be in the mood...
the moon is almost full...
i feel a werewolf sitting on my shoulder...
nibbling it... i was expecting a crow biting my ear...
but i need to be in a "mood"...
  i can't do: it's raining therefore i'm thinking
of the many hues of blue mingling with
purple and green...

    i didn't ask for a *******...
     there were two prostitutes sitting gauging
their eyes out... i chose one...
but this other one... this party girl was gearing up...
and she was like: he said to me twice now...
thrice i can't take... i only chose one...
but she was not having any of it...
can i just have this one?
    apparently no... i had to take both of them...
because the one that was pretending to
be this bleached blonde wanted to be in on
the "action"...

            i thought about the jihadis...
yeah... you and those 72 virgins...
how about 72 prostitutes...
               boyo... you have another thing
coming...
                  it's hard... i'm not saying it's easy...
******* two women at once...
it's confusing... getting a blow-job while
at the same time ******* on some *******...
you try your hardest to keep a hard-on...
******* on *******... pretending to be a toddler...
while... all the while... you're getting ****** off...
it makes no sense...
   why? well... when you're getting ****** off
you want to communicate eye-contact...
but... you're disengaged from it by *******
a 2nd girl's *******...
so it's like...   x = z but y ≠ z...
    
       that's why i hate *******...
                what society sells...
my best resolve concerning a *******?
it's not what people who have perfected it
have imagined... reality is a tender little *****...
what's best about a *******?

you snuggle up to one girl, the one you like...
she performs a hand-job on you...
you kiss her face, her neck...
you sometimes interlude her with eye-contact...
she knows you're digging her...
she's pretty... tameable...
        
she's jerking your off... while the other girl?
she's cameo... she was the one instigating this
interaction... she's the party girl...
she's the one tickling your *******...
she's the one you're about to use her cleavage
for imitation of ****..
   she's the one about to take a shower
after you ******* full sprout...
******* duck-lips... botox etc.,

                 she's the one who initiated the *******...
i was only after the one i fancied...
how do i know? after we finished...
the one i ******* onto...
and myself... she took a shower...
i also took a shower... she sprayed me with her
perfumes...
i took a shower... dressed up...
the one i fancied... while i was dressing...
she
stood behind me... like a vampire...
body-size-difference...
she started massaging my back and shoulders...

two girls... self-evident competition...
the one i liked gave me the most ingenious
hand-job... i smoke a cigarette and managed
a hard-on...
             i liked her eyes... her eyes told me everything...
i was the supposed good-mad-man...
party girl wanted a piece...
duck-lips unattractive...

i was put off by their song choices...
i was thinking:
kid loco - rattlesnake rattle (she's my lover)
wax tailor - ungodly fruit
boozoo bajau - keep going...

    if i had a harem of women i'd first have to
educate them in what music is best
ingested when having ***..

   of the two? the part girl that suggested
we have a *******? competing interests...
again: wrong choice of music...
after *** she started rummaging through my rucksack...
like a teenager...
   she found... a few things... most notably
Ovid's ****** Poems...
she asked me... oh, **** me... not this again:
are you German?!

what is it with people having this skewed
physiognomy of entertaining me as
a ******* Deutsche?!
i don't mind... i find it kind of beneficial...
but... if there's this superstition about whites
being unable to tell the difference
between Somalis and Kenyans...
like **** we can't... imbeciles... like **** we can't!

in an interlude between ******* on *******
and getting a a *******... sorry...
threesomes might be a zenith...
but... there are no third person involvement...
i can't accommodate two women at once...
if i'm getting ****** off i'd like
a blinding eye-contact...

   i smoked a cigarette and got an immediate
hard-on on... readied for a hand-job
and a tickling of the *******...
however threesomes go...
i found the best "position"...
no... it's not about what ******* sells...
first time... find yourself best served...
one of the women is more willing than the other...
best scenario?
you cuddle up to the girl giving you a hand-job...
you kiss her *******... you kiss her cheeks...
her neck...
while the other girl looks on... as you hide your
face into the face of the girl doing the deed...
you get to implode voyeurism...
one's doing X...
the other is looking at you:

          O)

                    or )O...

   because you're cuddling up to the one
that's jerking you off... half of your face is "missing"...
but you're looking at her...
while she's tickling your *****...
half of your face lost in the girl you like...
you wanted to be alone... pristine *******...
but she was the one who wanted a party and a *******...

you wait before asking her to provide her *******
for a makeshift ******...
the girl jerking you off is still her most
tender self... eyes of doe...
the ******?
              i wasn't asking for a *******...
good... that i spend my hard earned money
on this... to hell with spending it on material:
immaterial byproducts of hush... oops...

a ******* only makes sense when
one of the girls is jerking you off while the second
girl is watching you being ****** off...
teasing your *****... then come the ****** providing
her ***** as a substitute ******...
eye-contact... i don't believe one can have
a persuasive ******* being
occupied by... a duality of oral ***...
receiving oral *** while giving oral ***...

it's so much better to find a balance of...
voyeurism...
one girl is jerking you off while the other is watching you...
eyes eat eyes...

oculus edo oculus - eye eat eye...
that's how eroticism works... at least...
that's what i've fathomed from finding Ovid...

mind you: ******* oversells certain theatrics...
no... it's not true... reality is a different game
to what's practised in this kind of theatre...
i've already mentioned it...
sometimes i want to please others...
but sometimes i want to please myself...
it's "fluid"...
                  to hell with the precursor needs of
outliers that homosexuals are...
                        if they are to be proud and i'm
to be shamed, no wonder my sometimes stretching
the hard-on "problem"...
but... no little wonder: how a little bit of cognac
and a drag of a cigarette can make due resolves...

threesomes... best scenario?
the one that you liked... the one you wanted to ****
solo... is giving you a hand-job...
while you're snuggling up to her
like some Norman Bates...
****'s freaky anyway... since there are three in a room...
and the one that instigated the *******
is peering into your eyes
like Aetos Kaukasios... the eagle eating Prometheus'
liver... she's the one rummaging through
your rucksack looking for...
sure as **** she wasn't looking for a book
by Ovid... she's the teenage girl that's unable
to find meaningful eye-contact during ***...
she has the fun-girl-sour look in her face...
   she can't be serious during ***... she has done too much
botox implants into her already duck-duck lips...

the one i wanted already knew that the one
who instigated this profanity just wanted...
she was the one so desperate to get ******...
i mean: becoming intimate is one thing...
couldn't we just have fooled around?
rather than stressing a belt and notches?!

i sometimes feel like a woman when i'm *******...
i just want to ease into oozing
with... when a spider ****** an octopus...

if that could happen to you, or me...
nothing was ever left as a reminder to be unlike
any prior man...
all we have are reminder of how it is: to be a man...
are we not to inherit what
it is, that all that is: is to allow ousrelves
to be human?

i tease... i watch these men coupled within
their subordinate selves...
shackled... oh too trying...
  rings on their ringers...
               tiresome, tired-breeds...
men who have never managed to range
into a reach of galloping on a horses' hind!
my god... men who have never had a *******...
it's a bit like relocating a voyeurism...
one jerks you off while another looks on...
and what is she good for?
tickling your *****...
   using her cleavage as a makeshift ******...
she's not welcome...

because the one you want to be with is
already: gauging your eyes out...
Solomon's harem: Autumn...
          the envy of Muhammad...
                                
prior: disorientating getting a blow-job
while ******* on *******...

Jonathan.
Nathan MacKrith Feb 2021
...in...hale...ex...hale...

When threatened with an absence of life’s essence,
we grab out where we can,
cling to primal effervescence.

Pure panic produces piety
when under a threat of death,
to quell our expelled anxiety
we hold on to Brighid’s* breath.

In streets of pandemonium
devastated by Death’s bell,
blooms the Chrysanthemum**
a bit of Heaven amidst Hell.

Just one more breath
before the dying day’s gone,
given over to the kiss of Death
a memory of long gone dawn:

planted, secure, in my arms
is an organic bit of hope,
for salvation from harms
a tender vine-like rope:

This too shall pass
there is an end to the storm
a return to lush grass
caressed by the sun so warm.

...in...hale...ex...hale...
~
NM
01/31/21
This poem is commentary based on  a news story about how the people of Japan are turning to plants in seeking comfort during the C-19 pandemic.

*Brighid is the Celtic goddess of poetry, spring, birth, and renewal

**The significance of Chrysanthemums in Japan:

https://www.sacbee.com/entertainment/living/travel/article3326026.html
I remember when the grass and trees had all showed me their face..
the moon had snarled as if it came from some far away edo place.
I adored it
Nature i explored it
Finding that the soul of everything had been distorted...
By man,
his hungry calloced hands.
Raking in the money...
Breaking in the land.
Smacking mother nature,
her kids forced to disband.
I wish i could've saved them
I wish i had the chance..
Niranjan Aug 2022
Edo, don't worry about the things you hear.
It's all a happening.
Everything happens as to let you know,
these are what you have to bear.
What you lack, lack in life.
Lack in life that tears you apart,
which you always lick from
which you take for granted.
My Dear,
Don't be sad.
Don't be sad when I'm with you.
Tell me all that makes you numb.
I will,
We will,
Make it love.
Your confusions & anger is always natural.
Neutral in ways it or ee help you through.
Signs these are, realisations these are.
Nowadays we stink in our own shoes.
Move to the other persons shoes,
find what they are.
Move to the other and look at you.
You'll see what you lack,
You'll find what you lost.
Go Vaanaprastha.
Meaning,
Find your jungle, go for an exile ,
look back home and see what's happening, through which you see what you did, what happened and what all you took.
What made your head weigh and bow down,
Even when you pushed your muscles to hold it  Up.
It's normal and beautiful to die,
By killing your most minute ego.
By devouvering the skins of those creatures
that hold you in chains.
It's a dual choice to go which way.
Choose yours by knowing yourself,
by finding what you are,
When someone asks.
Speak of who you are in terms of what you do.
   What you read &
   What you listen.
   What you consume &
   What you excrete.
       Rather than,
   Where you come from &
   Where you are going.
   No more tears.
There is no such thing Dear I am here.
It's all nothing but what is now.
Like these moments of time
while reading each of these words.
The breath you take in each second,
as it passes, as it goes away while you were thinking of me.
You were my Early wind,
that brought me  Streams.
Streams of water straight from them hills.
You were the wind which made me walk.
Remember who you were
To me you were the wind, the wind, the wind,
Those early winds.
Early winds i still cry for.
Look for,
The picture of the person that
comes into your mind &
The smell that lingers when seen out of sight.
The smell I found,
Your beautiful smell i found,
Found before a time where
we hadn't even met.
The smell i thought was a myth,
But,
Found in time.
In time, everything happens,
In time, you find what you long for.
When we do it by surrendering ourselves.
Listen to music,
Dance till exhaustion,
Let those sweats fall,
Let the ego burst,
Let me love you &
Let me hold you.
Let me feed you &
Let me have from you.
Everytime you do this,
The healing is done.
Everytime this happens,
It's always a happening.
Hugs & Kisses,
Wake upto me.
It's 6:26 am,
4th of Aughust and im thinking of You.

— The End —