duets with other poets – abichica

last touch 

“…something is there
within in the deep
but whose childe it is
we do not yet know…”
-Lao Tzu


First Touch…

“I’ve never done this before”.. I whispered more to myself than to her..

and so narcissus steps into the bottomless pool once again sighing


“I’m glad i’m your first” She murmured..

ignorance is not bliss you are neither the first nor last to taste transgressive fruit


Distracted by the sound of my dress hitting the floor..

such disrobing unveils not glory but mere carnality


She watched me…No.. Gazed at me..

the nefesh soul loves to wrestle in the mud


Eyes glazed over in lust.

but we have opposable thumbs not fins


Pure unadulterated desire..

regression is an endless temptation


Taking everything in as if in a trance..

losing myself in a can some pr man called earthquake


As if I’m the sexiest vixen alive..

but you are not because opposites restore equality


She sat quietly as I took off every stitch of clothing.

and now we submerged ourselves in pathetic pornography


Letting them fall one by one..

where is that can of an earthquake we prefer to this


Exposing myself to her hungry stare..

we used not to call this satan now we call it boring


Until I stood in front of her with just my heels..

oh so now our hooves are our horns our primitive urges


As she strolled towards me..

it is impossible to danse with two left feet


Prowled more like

the ruach soul is not a panther


Focused, sexy and confident..

rather just hungry so lacking compassion


Like a panther stalking it’s prey..

exactly lilith seeking whomever she may devour


Ready for the take down..

satan’s mistress will ultimately be taken down


A slight shiver of anticipation runs though my body..


my neshamah if it was lacking compassion would be boring me


As she stops in front of me she ran her hands over me..

too bad for you prefer intoxity to reality


Leaving goose bumps trailing behind her caress..

oh my goddess…you are lost in the deep throat of pornography


Starting at the nape of my neck..

working her way down into something not poetry


Down my arms..

into an unfertile crotch


Touching the side of my breast..

where a child is supposed to suckle


Barely grazing my nipples..

men have nipples too


“So beautiful” She said sounding amazed.

there is no tempting darkness greater than unfamiliarity


“Am I really all she says i am”

yep you can be a  slug in the mud if you must


my mind starts to wonder…

excuse me  you are as mindless as a snail says the raven


She moves her hands down my waist..

was it not the bard that said such a waist is a waste of shame


Grabbing my butt and squeezing roughly..

sadistically masochistically regressively


Moaning deep in her throat before her soft perfect lips

one slips not into vertuoisty but mendacity


crashed down on mine…

crashing is not uplifting nor exulting


All thought dissipated…

yes you found the bottom of brutality


All that mattered was this feeling.

and your chayyah evaporating into stupidity


This moment..


celebrating such narcissism



humanity abandons dry land and extinction returns


abichica https://chicpress.wordpress.com/2014/07/30/first-touch/


chrétien marc valentin

(© 2 août 2014)

This entry was posted in Poetry, The Living Logos, The Path of the Sacred Warrior and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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