DESIRE (Sonnet II)
O, thou dearest object of desire,
Perfection’s form to worship from afar,
Dare I approach thine incandescent fire,
Or kneel before thee, brightly shining star?
As I behold thee tenderly unfold
Thy secret place of pleasure’s sweet repose,
I would that my poor tongue might be so bold,
As there to deeply seek, and lust expose.
Deep probing pleasure not to be delay’d,
With virile simulacra thrusting true,
My jealous soul doth clamor thus to trade,
Thy vinyl love for all I’d wish to do.
Dear fantasy, thou art perfection’s gift,
Whose beauty doth my heated soul uplift.
I find beauty inspiring. The young lady in the photo inspired the sonnet. It’s all fantasy, to be sure. The photo is posed. For all I could say, the young lady succumbing to a vinyl-inspired orgasm may actually have been bored out of her mind.
I don’t actually care. I deal in fantasy. I am, largely, a fantasy myself. How much of the real Lauren appears in what I write? Some, certainly. Since this is being posted at the end of International Blasphemy Day, I suppose it won’t hurt to admit that the general dislike of organized religion is part of the real me. I don’t hate God, obviously, I just don’t see any evidence there is one. It’s hardly a secret I tend to think most big-time evangelists are nothing more than con artists. Marjoe really was an accurate documentary, and while there aren’t as many traveling revivalist con-artists today, the breed lives on after moving from tent to television and continues to take their victims for as much as they can wring from them.
I’m going to keep up the poetry, though I can’t promise to write something daily. If I’m to judge by blog stats, people seem to like it. Or, at least, they’re interested enough to check it out, resulting in a significant increase in visitors.
Naturally, while you’re here, I’ll urge you to wander over to my author’s page on Lot’s Cave and check out my books and stories.