deepundergroundpoetry.com
Erotic Juvenilia
The fantasy, I realise now,
was always hugging, closeness,
touch.
Even when I tried to impress
with graphic renderings of cocks
and cunts and masturbation,
in truth it was always
touch.
Reflecting on my poetry of lust
and how it didn’t measure up
to any life experience,
and thus felt stupid, false,
the crude engine breaks open and
I see what made it run:
a wanting to be held.
And with it a perverted urge
to ground that wanting in fetish,
in shallowness and self-destruction.
Based on my father telling me
that Rock Hudson was dead
because he sucked men’s cocks.
I was thirteen then, or thereabouts.
We were watching a film
when Hudson’s name came up.
It only occurs to me now that sex can truly be
an act of love as well as lust,
between the right people.
was always hugging, closeness,
touch.
Even when I tried to impress
with graphic renderings of cocks
and cunts and masturbation,
in truth it was always
touch.
Reflecting on my poetry of lust
and how it didn’t measure up
to any life experience,
and thus felt stupid, false,
the crude engine breaks open and
I see what made it run:
a wanting to be held.
And with it a perverted urge
to ground that wanting in fetish,
in shallowness and self-destruction.
Based on my father telling me
that Rock Hudson was dead
because he sucked men’s cocks.
I was thirteen then, or thereabouts.
We were watching a film
when Hudson’s name came up.
It only occurs to me now that sex can truly be
an act of love as well as lust,
between the right people.
Published 8th Apr 2022
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The author encourages honest critique.
Mr Taupin Sir.
I'd need 15 pages of words to describe the importance of this self reflecting poem. There is such an air of the vulnerable here it is almost frightening. I really like the form you've chosen it lands on the page like a honest confession.
It's completely human on the page, I've been seeing that a bit from you lately and mention it because I feel it's the path your poetry is being to lead to at this time. Its truthful and gritty.
Truth is friend, that is all any of us want, touch.
moulding ourselves into each other. We find ourselves needing it more than our addictions, wierd habits, odd tendencies. In the end all we need is loving touch.
The close of this...
"an act of love as well as lust,
between the right people"
This is what our grandparents and ancestors were trying to tell us, while we were screaming "you don't understand" to the wind.
Sex is lust
Amaizing great incredible sex is love
Because... touch and mental unity.
Nicely penned bro... I really am enjoying your poems lately.. this works really well for you!
Al
I'd need 15 pages of words to describe the importance of this self reflecting poem. There is such an air of the vulnerable here it is almost frightening. I really like the form you've chosen it lands on the page like a honest confession.
It's completely human on the page, I've been seeing that a bit from you lately and mention it because I feel it's the path your poetry is being to lead to at this time. Its truthful and gritty.
Truth is friend, that is all any of us want, touch.
moulding ourselves into each other. We find ourselves needing it more than our addictions, wierd habits, odd tendencies. In the end all we need is loving touch.
The close of this...
"an act of love as well as lust,
between the right people"
This is what our grandparents and ancestors were trying to tell us, while we were screaming "you don't understand" to the wind.
Sex is lust
Amaizing great incredible sex is love
Because... touch and mental unity.
Nicely penned bro... I really am enjoying your poems lately.. this works really well for you!
Al
