Release Me

Unattainable love, I long for you to strike my body with your hand
Callous skin scrap thine smooth flesh
Hold me tight and squeeze my soul from within its cage
for I need to be released from pain and incarceration
Do my bidding and I shall be free.

Spring passion

Love's magnetism heightened by emotional longing
The eyes gaze upon the beauty, the blossoming flower in the room.
Lips, sweet and luscious; scarlet hue. One must kiss spring's first plucked flower
Before its soul is tainted by winter's sharp vicious bite.

Hold the flower close, savor its sweet smell and devour its beauty.

Books of modernity

Accursed pad, digitally produced, words flicker on a bright screen
The sensual feel, the erotic musky odour not apparent
My heart aches.

Out of the dark ages and into the light

Recently, it was announced that the state of California will introduce to its history curriculum transgender history. It's a wonderful day for those who look upon history as a hugely conservative, edited and flawed subject where we are never given the bigger picture of the day. This begs the question: why should their achievements be closeted purely because of their sexual orientation? In this day and age we are becoming more open and more welcoming to all people whether gay or straight. This makes me wonder if Ireland would ever follow suit and concentrate on gay Irish people who achieved and conquered social restrictions? In my opinion, this may not happen for a long, long time. While Ireland is beginning to shed its conservative identity there are still some people who hark back to the days of Catholic Ireland, the power of religion and the importance of marriage and procreation. With the Irish Presidential election looming and David Norris still remaining a powerful front runner, perhaps Norris if elected may use his influence and power to further universalize Ireland, to bring us out of the dark ages and create an identity for the country as one which is accessible and equal. It may happen, we just need to hope for the best.

Marble heart

Beyond the marble lieth my love's beating heart,
my hand cannot feel it for the marble encloses, mutes and locks it away
Her eyes are fastened, still, motionless, there is not a tear that she sheds
Can I go on loving her, that woman who shall not respond to my love?

Yes, for she never disagrees, argues or curses my soul
I can sit on this bench and gaze at her chiseled beauty
She has many admirers and although I am one of many
My belief is that I am her soul mate, her one and only.

One day I visit her as dusk fast approaches, the gallery is about to close
She is gone! Oh my love
A shadow, a stain remains where her beautiful and hefty physique once stood
Shall I ever see her again, is she far? I fear that she has stolen my heart and I shall never love again.

Sexual surrender (a poem)

Unfastened buttons and sheer fabric lose,

Her creamy skin exposing unexplored flesh.

The reptile eye of her lover positioned intently upon this sight

His hands trembling, the convulsive power brought on by longing.

Hair flowing like a Renaissance beaut touching his stubble chin

His hands finally give in, grabbing hold of her trembling warm skin.

Words unspoken but tears the visible reminder of her innocence beginning to show.