Submissions by AlecBell
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
DARK POEM
Published
20th Feb 2011 11:39am
20th Feb 2011 11:39am
Stolen Gratification
He lives within me,
quietly, he thinks.
But there are levers
and buttons within
his reach. The pilot’s seat
used to be his post.
He’s lost control now,
though he’s left alone.
There are feelings he
can manipulate.
He feels the tingle
of anxiety
in the lower part
of the gut. He learned
to soothe the tension,
use his hand to change
anxious feelings
to desire. Alone,
with no one to share,
he finds his pleasure...
quietly, he thinks.
But there are levers
and buttons within
his reach. The pilot’s seat
used to be his post.
He’s lost control now,
though he’s left alone.
There are feelings he
can manipulate.
He feels the tingle
of anxiety
in the lower part
of the gut. He learned
to soothe the tension,
use his hand to change
anxious feelings
to desire. Alone,
with no one to share,
he finds his pleasure...
951 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Jan 2010 11:55am
19th Jan 2010 11:55am
Second Sight
You can see him, can’t you?
I can feel him watching, looking at you
through my eyes. Moments like these
awake his dream of freedom discovered.
More foolish than us, he cannot perceive
how illusory any freedom must be.
He will forever be powerless, unable to steal
the flame, to kindle passionate fires,
to satisfy desires he can only guess at.
I feel him gazing through my eyes.
I realise that you have seen his fugitive
moment, his longing. Is any of us what we seem?
You have glimpsed one of many actors
who animate the mask you took for...
I can feel him watching, looking at you
through my eyes. Moments like these
awake his dream of freedom discovered.
More foolish than us, he cannot perceive
how illusory any freedom must be.
He will forever be powerless, unable to steal
the flame, to kindle passionate fires,
to satisfy desires he can only guess at.
I feel him gazing through my eyes.
I realise that you have seen his fugitive
moment, his longing. Is any of us what we seem?
You have glimpsed one of many actors
who animate the mask you took for...
951 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Jan 2010 11:48am
6th Jan 2010 11:48am
Sacher-Masoch On Holiday
He stepped from the third class compartment.
On the platform in Venice, he had finally become “Gregor”.
They were alone together in a foreign city,
he had left his respectable station in life behind him.
She had travelled separately (would their hotel suites have
the all-important communicating doors?), fur-clad,
aloof, and brimming with contemptuous cruelty.
He stood on the platform before her first class compartment
as she dissected him with her basilisk stare. She spoke
barely above a whisper, her serpent’s voice stung.
...
On the platform in Venice, he had finally become “Gregor”.
They were alone together in a foreign city,
he had left his respectable station in life behind him.
She had travelled separately (would their hotel suites have
the all-important communicating doors?), fur-clad,
aloof, and brimming with contemptuous cruelty.
He stood on the platform before her first class compartment
as she dissected him with her basilisk stare. She spoke
barely above a whisper, her serpent’s voice stung.
...
831 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Jan 2010 5:09pm
5th Jan 2010 5:09pm
Mother
It was too soon, she’d acted carelessly.
In a tiny collision, a seed of catastrophe
formed, a growth that might demand her life.
It didn’t seem possible, how should that joyous tide
that swept her to such heights of pleasure
have left a struggling survivor behind?
Her partner had been hardly more substantial
than a shadow of the night. He would, she thought,
distain responsibility, deny that he had anything
to share with her.” I thought you were being careful!”
she could hear him say.
Much...
In a tiny collision, a seed of catastrophe
formed, a growth that might demand her life.
It didn’t seem possible, how should that joyous tide
that swept her to such heights of pleasure
have left a struggling survivor behind?
Her partner had been hardly more substantial
than a shadow of the night. He would, she thought,
distain responsibility, deny that he had anything
to share with her.” I thought you were being careful!”
she could hear him say.
Much...
869 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Dec 2009 00:12am
16th Dec 2009 00:12am
Full Face
His young face freckled,
perfect imperfection. His
beauty completed.
perfect imperfection. His
beauty completed.
1007 reads
9 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Dec 2009 11:45am
9th Dec 2009 11:45am
Pocket Money
Who knows how long ago
he posed? He reclines, his thighs
spread wide, his head cocked at an angle,
while he seems to stare at the lens
as he might stare at a phantom partner,
who had come upon him there.
A tee shirt is all he wears. He holds
his rigid cock. The camera’s voracious eye
has him frozen. The voyeur within
can see every fleshy detail, as far
as the crevasse that separates
his buttocks.
Long ago
the session finished, he was paid.
His image remained
to drift through cyber...
he posed? He reclines, his thighs
spread wide, his head cocked at an angle,
while he seems to stare at the lens
as he might stare at a phantom partner,
who had come upon him there.
A tee shirt is all he wears. He holds
his rigid cock. The camera’s voracious eye
has him frozen. The voyeur within
can see every fleshy detail, as far
as the crevasse that separates
his buttocks.
Long ago
the session finished, he was paid.
His image remained
to drift through cyber...
1059 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Nov 2009 1:27am
19th Nov 2009 1:27am
Hostile Witness.
What’s it you?” I said. “You’d better find
a civil tongue, and keep in your head.”
he replied. “I know a lot about you and gentlemen,
enough to see you put away with hard labour.”
“You ain’t a copper! You look the part,
but I don’t reckon you’re real. You’d have carted
me off by now.” He stared at me, I thought
maybe I’d pushed to hard. I thought he’d hit me.
“Let’s just say this is your lucky day, shall we?
Remember, luck can change, and I still have old friends
on the force. I want to talk to you about a certain famous
gentleman and...
a civil tongue, and keep in your head.”
he replied. “I know a lot about you and gentlemen,
enough to see you put away with hard labour.”
“You ain’t a copper! You look the part,
but I don’t reckon you’re real. You’d have carted
me off by now.” He stared at me, I thought
maybe I’d pushed to hard. I thought he’d hit me.
“Let’s just say this is your lucky day, shall we?
Remember, luck can change, and I still have old friends
on the force. I want to talk to you about a certain famous
gentleman and...
#OscarWilde
1001 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Nov 2009 8:11pm
16th Nov 2009 8:11pm
First Kiss
(Casting Sunday, Bloody Sunday, 1971)
“I’m sorry Jack,
If this were happening on stage,
I wouldn’t hesitate. Between us
Giles and I could create a
performance that worked. In that
intense and living atmosphere,
our kiss could have all the dirty
shock your author wants to give it.
“But not in a movie!
I just can’t be the first star
to kiss another man on film.
I know the world respects
you Jack, and there’d be
Oscars too, but there it would
be, one hundred times larger
than life and canned for
posterity. What...
“I’m sorry Jack,
If this were happening on stage,
I wouldn’t hesitate. Between us
Giles and I could create a
performance that worked. In that
intense and living atmosphere,
our kiss could have all the dirty
shock your author wants to give it.
“But not in a movie!
I just can’t be the first star
to kiss another man on film.
I know the world respects
you Jack, and there’d be
Oscars too, but there it would
be, one hundred times larger
than life and canned for
posterity. What...
932 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
16th Nov 2009 8:07pm
16th Nov 2009 8:07pm
Need
If I could couple with another
I wouldn’t need to be my own lover,
I writhe and burn as longing and lust
consume me, overwhelmed by the
saltiest nostalgia for hands that stroked
and arms that promised security.
I groan. My loss clings to me closely
as the shirt that poisoned Herakles,
I groan as I reach a lonely consummation.
I wouldn’t need to be my own lover,
I writhe and burn as longing and lust
consume me, overwhelmed by the
saltiest nostalgia for hands that stroked
and arms that promised security.
I groan. My loss clings to me closely
as the shirt that poisoned Herakles,
I groan as I reach a lonely consummation.
976 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Nov 2009 11:58pm
14th Nov 2009 11:58pm
First Visit (King's Road, Chelsea, 1965)
His posture tells you everything.
See, he’s become a Sebastian, naked and bleeding,
punctured by the darted glances shot
at him across the room. He’s convinced
that every eye can see straight through him;
He’s going to enter the Gigolo,
the club where only queer men go.
He stands there –at last he’s confessing
the self he has too often denied.
He has outwitted his fear. He paced
the street outside, shamefaced and hungry eyed,
Watching as men in couples,
In chattering knots, stepped inside.
Now he is entering the Gigolo,...
See, he’s become a Sebastian, naked and bleeding,
punctured by the darted glances shot
at him across the room. He’s convinced
that every eye can see straight through him;
He’s going to enter the Gigolo,
the club where only queer men go.
He stands there –at last he’s confessing
the self he has too often denied.
He has outwitted his fear. He paced
the street outside, shamefaced and hungry eyed,
Watching as men in couples,
In chattering knots, stepped inside.
Now he is entering the Gigolo,...
822 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
11th Nov 2009 11:27am
11th Nov 2009 11:27am
Hot Shots
1
He grasps his penis.
For the photographer there
is only close up.
2
The boy’s ruby tongue
anoints his partner’s needy,
swollen, dripping cock.
3
Tactile; Their lips meet,
eyes closed, their fingers explore
each others’ hard cocks.
4
His partner’s stiff shaft
is pressing against his hole,
penetrating him.
5
He licks his lover’s
lollipop prick. He loves the taste
of oozing, fluid sex.
6
A boy being screwed,
his body folded under his
lover’s eager thrusts
He grasps his penis.
For the photographer there
is only close up.
2
The boy’s ruby tongue
anoints his partner’s needy,
swollen, dripping cock.
3
Tactile; Their lips meet,
eyes closed, their fingers explore
each others’ hard cocks.
4
His partner’s stiff shaft
is pressing against his hole,
penetrating him.
5
He licks his lover’s
lollipop prick. He loves the taste
of oozing, fluid sex.
6
A boy being screwed,
his body folded under his
lover’s eager thrusts
1014 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Nov 2009 11:26am
11th Nov 2009 11:26am
Early Learning
John and Robert had occasionally
shared body heat and ragged breath.
Robert had not despised him. He acknowledged
Their connection even among the crowd
of their acquaintance. Robert’s protection
gained John a grudging acceptance
among the ever changing group of boys
who made up Robert’s gang.
But today they all seemed keen to avoid
acknowledging each other, not knowing
how to greet the impossible news that Robert
and his elder brother were killed at dusk
as day was mourning the failure of light. ...
shared body heat and ragged breath.
Robert had not despised him. He acknowledged
Their connection even among the crowd
of their acquaintance. Robert’s protection
gained John a grudging acceptance
among the ever changing group of boys
who made up Robert’s gang.
But today they all seemed keen to avoid
acknowledging each other, not knowing
how to greet the impossible news that Robert
and his elder brother were killed at dusk
as day was mourning the failure of light. ...
859 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by AlecBell
