beauty, love, lust, masculinity, poetry, sex, women

Crowned by the dawn

All the warmth and joy without

Having to be furtive in pursuit

A languid pace

A child’s idling walk

Busy, at times, to the point

Where I can hardly catch

My breath

But I surf or spread wings

Of persistent purpose

And take to the skies

I could run naked

Into the woods.

Howl with such joy

Make a bed of soft leaves

To take you upon

Weave flowers

In your hair

And the ones on your head

Sniff and stroke

Rough fingers, made damp

With skill

Coax high whispers of delight

As I took possession

But first,

Tea and lunches packed,

Shopping lists,

Crowned by the dawn

With work already done

And I tell you nothing

But show you

Each and every time

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beauty, love, lust, men, poetry, sex

What Becomes

I find

Make

Sculpt

Time

Into raw materials

Alchemical focus

As the slow burn of

Desire held at bay

Becomes art

But still,

A man who would be comfortable

With taking you hard

Wherever I found you

But duty and appropriate

Behaviour stay my rough, strong

Hands and their invitation

To your sweet, secret places

So for now

It becomes

Art

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Day and date

Each day is a date

As much as a struggle

Not to ravish you against the

Counter

To lap at you

As a wave laps against the shore

A crown of foam raised

Then swallowed back

But the world demands

My participation.

My attention

But you stand there

I breathe you in

Inhale you until you shiver

Then go about my day

But I carry you with me

Equally distraction

And inspiration

Until such time as high tide

Returns

Made uncivil by appetite

And pin down

This beast within me

A man, nothing more

But also everything

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Guru

Thunderbolt

of Flaming

Wisdom

At rest

Beneath my clothes

As I receive another visitor

I only talk about the enlightenment

I offer with beautiful women

And the memories of wine

On my lips

Arranged just so

Bringing visions with each

Supine thrust

Fingers drawing out

Prayers to the divine

Rising in the air

Like temple incense

I offer the wisdom

Open your thighs

I would be a God

Between them

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beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

In some small way

Quiet inside

come to you

Breathe you in

Nose against the nape 

Of your neck

Hands wandering around

Gruff chuckles

Giggles joining

Nothing I would call force

But a playful wrestle

Mark you in some small way

Make sure you know

Who you belong to

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the smoke of loving battle

The languid flames

Lick at my insides

Appetites speaking

With my voice

Wielding the urge

To feed and purge

peaks of ferocious arousal

I would ravish you

Leave bruises tattooed

On your skin

The flush and dew of

A knot unties

An architecture of goodwill

Anatomy and limbs arranged

Damp intimacies

soft laughter at the cartoon

This divine rage makes

Of

Me

Restored to connect

Calm and sated

Kiss me again

Taste the smoke of loving

battle on your lips

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beauty, erotica, lust, sex, women

Sir 2.0

https://mbblissett.com/sir/

A science fiction/erotica series about the limits of personal freedom, desire and technology.

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