Hello everyone, good to be here! i'll try to live up to the hype of being 'prolific' (funny i've only thought of that word in baby terms)
well thanks so much for the people who gave a quick look to the poem, i'm glad to say recording went well, i hope i can play it soon for you. here is the RSV of the poet, I put in the one because I felt it would be too much putting in both old and new. Enough from me, please comments are welcome! many thanks
The Poet
He opened my eyes to the banquet he created,
I sat at the table dispensing of grace.
I bent my head wondering, which way to eat,
He encouraged; suck and chew.
So, I did, letting go of my urges,
that they may wreck carnage. However, by the
time I was done
I was the plundered one.
The images of his lines, drew me to gastronomic
vistas I had never imagined. In a land
where I was just a tourist. He bid me
live, so I became a national of
that country, where his tongue ruled.
He plundered me with his mellow voice and
I laid still, hoping to catch every last
orgasmic explosion as his presence bursted
over me.
He spoke. I climaxed over and again,
arching my back , catching, every wave of ecstatic rapture.
Moving in inertia, praying, his stream would flow on and on,
tantric in its continuity.
His words were a signal of things to come
I wanted, anticipated eagerly.
He laid the bed with languid overtones
I plunged its depths with abandon,
his sentences stroked my secret places,
he bid me ‘come’. I yielded.
The dip and rise of his tone, washed over my
post climatic mien . He stoked me again
when his voice lifted
as in song.

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