Secret Thots for a Very Private Gentleman
tales, temptation, and titillation…
There is a time for being ahead,
a time for being behind;
a time for being in motion,
a time for being at rest;
a time for being vigorous,
a time for being exhausted;
a time for being safe,
a time for being in danger.
— Lao Tzu —
As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
“Love has no ending.“I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you
Till China and Africa meet
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street.“I’ll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.“The years shall run like rabbits
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages
And the first love of the world.”But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
“O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.“In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.“In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.“Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver’s brilliant bow.“O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you’ve missed.“The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.“Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer
And Jill goes down on her back.“O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.“O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.”It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming
And the deep river ran on.
— W.H. Auden —
Tonight, the moon is sombre though you wouldn’t know it;
it nestles its backside into the sky’s lap, each buck-and-grind a falling star.
Nights like this make one ache in mysterious ways.
A man once fingered me in a dark parking lot. His fingers were long and clever. He growled his pleasure in my ear and bit my lip. When he made me cum, my head fell back with air clusters catching in my throat. His kisses were coos. Tears streamed down my face; he said they tasted sweet, like stardust.
Constellations were the First Stories; we are all descended from such brilliance. We are the dreams of ancestors come true. When we look into another’s eyes, we give up the secret of what we most need – the Darkness holds it until the wind takes it up… and away, back to its first breath.
We are the ache of life’s mysterious ways.
The moon is restless as you lick my skin with the tip of your cock.
Tonight, the darkness holds us.
We are not alone.
– Lola Moi –