I Like Mine Trimmed

Put on exhibition for
All my five senses to indulge,
Liberating my need to scrounge.
I like mine trimmed,
Around the lake
Of pleasures unknown,
Of men's dreams vanquished and made.


I like mine trimmed,
Ever neat,
Ever clean,
Mouth gaping,
Mouth watering.
What won't I give,
For a slight brush,
For a mild whiff,
Perhaps just a lap at the moor,
A sip of the spring's
Rejuvenating yield would
I adore the more.


I like mine trimmed,
Rolling hills
And gentle valleys,
Curves be the essence
Of beauty everlasting,
Let dawn my renaissance.
Help me I'm failing,
Faltering, falling,
Fallen.
All sense eluded,
All thought polluted.


I like mine trimmed,
Let my meat
Part of this broth be,
Stirring by pole,
Stabbing in the parting,
Like a man whose mind is gone,
Shall I bring its froth to dawn.


I like mine trimmed.
To the squishing
And slapping sounds;
Even the vocalised ecstasy
In ragged breaths clad,
Shall we clasp
Our mutual release
At the peak,
And the ebbing tide
Of smouldering passions
To new morrows
Shall it surrender us.