Six Poems

Love That Man
______________

Animalize
yourself
but be a lady
in my presence,
because you cannot play the flute with teeth.

It was a pink sky evening, and I felt blue, so I told you to start heavy breathing - on the maroon recliner.

Wow!
I am going to beat it up... 

Whoa!
Not that it knocked me out...

It made me think
that
there is something more 
than rape.

(Love that man).

Milk
me a milky way 
of creamy white skin
with pink hue
that one time
that I went fridged
in the cold water
oh well
for the blush
...
balls!

A Gnostic Women's Wish
_________________________

If only we could escape the flesh and let our souls be free - from our flesh.

Erection

______

The 

greeting

cheap?

to those

not saying hello

or being nice.

No those that would 

demean a cajole

or fancy a piffle.

No only those detering

will; conspire

and pervert.

So as to partake the greeting insincerely.

No Goddess

____________

Wiccan mentalism

and peace with my bosom,

there I show cleavage,

and Peter Pan to the night time journey

of bed hopping
and sex jokes:

Never was I natural,

never did I care

to be,

looking at those in natural law

and the witches trying to be

unnatural...

Supernatural woman looks down on man, from the sky, and sees 

only philosophy.

Get drunk

Get high

regret is nigh.

After the rape by environment

of genetics

and your compromised self.

To the psyche

that you share

with the man that stalker

and your stolen underwear.

Puke... Surrender to the night.

Keeping Posture

_______________

She sat down

and 

sat up

then laid down

to behold

phallus.

A Man that Cries is a Man That Feels?

_____________________________________

My phallus

is no gun

shooting a woman in the gut.

My phallus

is a tender-loin

a majestic interlude in her butt.

My phallus

is no knife

stabbing a woman

in her womb.

She flys with her legs

spread like wings

knowing it will not be over soon.

My phallus

is no battering ram

in her mouth.

Choking, coughing, and gagging about... Puking and tears of hurting.

No, my phallus is a majestic interlude. That you can be a form fitting pouch and face your fears

with. 

Selah

as the lengthy work is done.

For now, until, the next - feeling.

© S. Wesley Mcgranor