Eyes Of A Man

I fish out from your eyes of dark sea 

the rising new moon

and paint it into a golden sun.

For when you look at me, for a second, 

my body unfurls like a dahlia in the late August.

Your touch will bring fruition,

Yes, your touch— 

 

I write you into my poems but a poet is a liar.

For I’m just a stranger in a cafe falling into your stories, where

no spring will come and no winter’s ceremony 

will grace a silent character like me, while 

your eyes flow and dwell at no places.

 

My somber heart searches for you nonetheless,

and my body, like a dahlia…

I Must Praise Your Body

I must praise your body; 

It’s like the earth’s dark soil

spoiled by the tropical sun, redolent of harvest,

I bury my eager hands into your fertility,

and bring out the rich greenery.

 

I drink from your lips the nectar of life; spring

is in your saffron-colored perianth.

My body is burning,

from my loins to my eyes,

the battlefield of virtue and sin.

 

I’m a proud man, broken by you.

The vengeance of love bends me;

The pain of love crushes me;

And forgetfulness saves me.

Medusa

You have to learn to bark like a dog on your knees

before entering Medusa – the queer party of the town

while the reception guy holds the leash and bites your ear.

Inside the bar, everything glitters, teeth or genitals,

and a naked DJ leads the beat – psychedelic, techno,

or whatever tunes that make you wiggle your butts.

 

“If you want to go to Medusa, you have to know what to expect“

She is an ancient queen bitch that hurts !

Her gaze makes you hard as a rock!

Can you feel her pulsating in your blood?

 

“If you go to Medusa, you’ll be born anew”

Life is born in the boisterous universe 

of a glory hole for boys in heels and leather. 

and a badass girl wears a strap-on.

 

“If you don’t leave Medusa until late, you’ll know our pride“

The artistic mix of art, music, and sexuality where men exchange

mysterious body fluids. On the flyers that rain down

a proud daddy is fisting a turkey.

 

You have to learn to be a proper queen in Medusa, subverting

every norm in three hours, or four if you dare

and be dirty.

But the dawn comes with forces that melt the glitters.

(fake glitters that cling to the chest and burn through you)

Spent, you walk out into a nameless crowd.

 

Out there on a difference boulevard,

people brandished their truncheons on us,

we cried, we bled,

two of us arrested for violating the public order.

we had the rainbow in our hands.

 

 

 

Patroclus

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His body shimmered like an ancient sword that kept the darkness at bay.

Out there the war was imminent, Trojans had their ships ready,

But here in this room, he sat forlorn, hair unkempt,

face turned into the shadow that trembled and swayed.

The muscle on his back ridged, the muscle that had the gentle caress

Of Achilles, HIS Achilles, who were looking at him then,

desiring his body, while Eros played in the eyes that followed the curve

of his legs;

The red velvet that he rested on flowed like virgin blood; he must have been in pain.

If he could turn around and look at his eromenos, the world would stand still,

awed by his phosphorescent nakedness.

He knew the fate that awaited out there, tomorrow, as a warrior;

A golden urn would receive him, and his lover too, in a myth.

 

I’m looking at his body now with eyes of Achilles

and marvel at the flesh that sets my blood racing.

This divine flesh of a man would perish then, stabbed by a spear,

and will also perish now, if he still lives on as I and you and he,

labelled as an erotic crime that once united us all in Greece.

 

But of course, it was perhaps twenty centuries ago.

Red Lips

I’ve always yearned for those red lips,

those lips with the color of a ripe cherry,

ready to burst, ready to fall,

and the breath of harvest enthralls me.

 

So I’ve been looking everywhere in this town,

in every cafe, in every store,

in every place where men meet for pleasure,

Eros is with me and he has lips of fire.

 

But I’ve never found them…never…

until one sad afternoon when the daffodil

prolongs its shadow against the setting sun,

I see them half hidden inside my rhymes…