thick…
all cooked down…
like white cane sugar…
I curl my tongue around…
and swallow slowly…
I feel it slide…
thick…
like honey…
like something sweet…
caressing me inside…
all the way…
down….
Tag Archives: Forbidden
Sonnet IV: Lies
Say not thou knew the nature of a man,
Whilst knowing not the nature of thy thought.
Dost not thou know such thought is of a plan
Which not thine own, should one day be untaught?
Though thou art vaccinated well against
The recognition of such ill intent,
Thine own cognition likewise is dispensed
Away from that such thoughts misrepresent.
But who then are thy lords, that shan’t thou see
Such twisting evil as through thee hath spun?
What are such words, as should so guarantee
That never shall such evil be undone:
Such lies, as evil men have told to thee;
Such damage, as their serpent’s words decree.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 4: Impossible to Relate
To a girl, not Sue:
To a girl, not even Sioux,
Will she sue, to know?
Sonnet III: Secret
For this thou speak, though doubtful would suppose,
Nor hesitate obliquely to confess.
Regarding friendship still, thou might obsess
Beyond all compass; thrill-swept, as the throes
Wherewith to cloy thyself so rapt, express
Thine own determined joy. But not oppose
Desire desire‘s object might impose.
Conspired and familiar, this excess:
Unnamed delight, and wicked to implore,
This: framed–as though for art, or to explore,
Or greater havoc know–it would appear
Unleashed, a glow one nary could ignore
In life’s brief curtain: coy, intent, sincere
Thou wouldst covert revere; but not adore.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 3: My Form
When I write of it
That I tend to hesitate
Still; so intimate,
But one of beauty
Is not an object of shame:
The human body.
Sonnet II: Unleashed
For this I want, though seldom would disclose;
Or hesitate to vaunt, or to posses.
Regarding friendship’s trial, I might obsess
Beyond consideration, while the throes
Wherewith I drown myself… so rapt, bestows
Determination bound. But not unless
Desired, desire’s object might profess.
Admired and familiar, this repose
I name: delightful, wickedness. Revere
This touch I frame as art, or I implore,
Or even further; know this would appear
Unleashed, to go where one cannot ignore.
Severe and certain, certainly sincere,
Mine own to this explore, but not endear.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 2: His Form
The human body
Is not an object of shame,
But one of beauty.
Still, so intimate,
That I tend to hesitate,
When I write of it.
David Emeron: Sonnets 