Private vs. Public Ejaculations (Herbet's not mine)
A loner
with a boner in Central Park was. . . |
Word Made Flesh
On the broad steps of the Basilica The feckless hopefully hold out their hands, Often with some success; the privileged Lighten their consciences by a few pence On their way to receive the sacrament. On the seventeenth step two beggars sit Paying no regard to the worshippers Who file past on their way to salvation. They do not ask for alms. They are engrossed, Skillfully masturbating one another. Most who have noticed this pretend they haven’t; Some of the other beggars wish they wouldn’t. Poor relief is incumbent on the rich And by taking things into their own hands They spoil the scene for everybody else. Our Lord said, “silver and gold have I none But such as I have give I thee”. The words Are here made flesh; with beatific sigh One gives the other benison, slipping All that he has into the waiting hand Of somebody who shares his human need. The newly shriven filter down the steps Averting their eyes from the seventeenth, Where the first beggar, in a state of grace, Works selflessly towards the second coming. |
This tableau vivant is almost like something out of Goya or The Rake's Progress, but I wonder at your exactitude in the counting of the stairs.
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I came, I saw, I went
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Repetitive Strain Injury
On diagnosis I gave way to grief, fearing my writing life was at an end. It hurts to do the thing that brings relief from all the other pain, I told a friend. Mischievously misunderstanding me, he said, get a vibrator; that’ll do it, and I, amused by his audacity, decided there might be some substance to it. I can recall first finding language fun and being fascinated to discover that substituting letters one by one could change a given word into another. Writing soon turns to self-abuse indeed; Waiting and Wanting are the steps you need. |
Not a poem, but sheer poetry.
https://youtu.be/xhu_TSf0O60 I might try writing one, though Ann is a hard act to follow... |
Good luck, Mark. However, trying to write one is often unsuccessful. I was once responding to a prompt "how to get a poem published" and tried to parody du Bellay. It started off okay...
Frotter un editeur pour sa pine allonger, Jouer la fille de joie, donner bonne… But I couldn't find a French rendering of "blow-job" that would scan and I sort of went off the boil... It happens. |
Did you try "pipe"?
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Thanks, but I needed three syllables, Brian, and adding "alors" would have been a bit of a cop-out. Du Bellay is a hard taskmaster.
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Ann, although I don't know du Bellay, I couldn't resist tinkering with your opening - I'm always game for a spot of smut. But I must admit that I didn't get beyond the first four lines.
Frotter un editeur pour sa pine allonger, Jouer la fille de joie, donner bonne jouissance, (Ne suivre, néanmoins, ses suggestions d’outrance), Et pour réussir une pipe, un quart d’heure - oui, plongez ! For the benefit of those who have no idea what's going on, here are the first four lines of Du Bellay's poem Flatter un créditeur, pour son terme allonger, Courtiser un banquier, donner bonne espérance, Ne suivre en son parler la liberté de France, Et pour répondre un mot, un quart d'heure y songer : |
Brian, you're a gem. I am in awe and a-giggle.
I hope you have not scandalised your good lady with this naughty bagatelle. Or at least not as much as you have amused me. I'll add that I have also translated the original "properly" under the title "Return of the Diplomat". I like old Joachim. . |
This all began on Aaron's "Corinna" thread on GT. Here is the poem I mentioned thereon...
From the Heart Corinna’s reply to the Earl of Rochester* Small liberties, if they be deftly taken, Do such extreme of sweet delight awaken That they do put to shame the greater act As doth the poet’s touch the unvarnished fact. The meeting of like minds may thus discover The bliss of bodies that amuse each other And with compassion and good humour see The simpler pleasures of maturity – Of him who orchestrates his admiration Without the urgency of procreation; Of her whose greatest joy is to express Desire’s strength through wisdom’s gentleness. For them, the re-enactment of convention Is sweetly spiced with exquisite invention And while hot youth with ramrod haste discovers The fleeting pleasure of more ardent lovers, To me it seems the less insistent part Doth move the swifter to engage my heart. *After his poem “The Imperfect Enjoyment” (the one Johnny Depp quotes from in The Libertine). |
[nevermind]
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For Perry. by way of explanation...
Metre-wanker
I am a metre-wanker and My head is full of sums. I work alone with what’s my own And tweak it till it comes. It seldom happens straight away But I can give it time. I lubricate and titillate With assonance and rhyme. I pander to my passion for Felicity of diction, Which I believe I can achieve By gentle, rhythmic friction. At first I feel it firming up, Then it will sigh and soften. I know each stage from urge to page Because I do it often. With optimistic tinkering And educated guess I take the thing and make it sing A self-complacent “Yesssss!” |
You are quite simply brilliant, Ann and far away in Italy I am laughing... gently laughing.
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Public Ejaculation: A Reverdie
I remember how my member felt like lumber in December, but it's spring now. Cocks are crowing. Everything has started growing. Goats are rutting; rams are butting; doves are cooing while they're screwing, and I want to be doing it, too cuz the devil in my pants says, "revel and dance!" |
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