Living Gold

Phosphorescent glows in the night,
he absorbs the whole spectrum of light;
a rival to the constellations.
Come lavender sky and morning dew
he rises like the sun renewed;
the solar cycles exaltation.

Bewitched and beguiled,
all before you’re defiled.
There’s something craven in his spellbound love;
he’s a raven feathered like a dove.
He’s the one that the God’s reviled.

He’s living gold,
sold to the highest bidder,
a sinner to behold
and a role to consider.
He’s living gold,
cold to the gentle hand;
a man of control
and bold command.
He’s living gold.

The blood of Bacchus courses his veins;
drunken to the point of divine disdain.
He is a child of cosmic storms.
Aureate shadows thrown from his motion
borrowed hypnosis from waves of the ocean,
synergy within the aura that forms.

He corrupts your mind.
The finest of his kind,
naked on his throne of glittering flesh;
a precious stone among the tarnished rest.
One kiss and you’re entwined.

He’s living gold,
sold to the highest bidder,
a sinner to behold
and a role to consider.
He’s living gold,
cold to the gentle hand;
a man of control
and bold command.
He’s living gold.

He’s got the nectar that the shy boys seek
but he’s a spectre with a sinister streak.
There’s nothing but complications
in his system of temptations.
He’s a strange sensation making proud men weak,
and before your own exploitation,
there’ll be no time to speak.

He’s living gold,
and you are a boy made to be sold.
He won’t do what he’s told.
You wouldn’t dare,
with living gold.


A Harlot’s Kiss Off

This was something crafted from anger and accusations. Nevertheless it is written, it is my own work, and I will post it here.

The venom with which you coat your arrows,
only serves to corrode their steel points.
You fire from your craven oak bow,
only for me to feel not one thing at all.
You’ve lost what once consumed your time;
you’ve nothing left to silence the singing seconds,
so you turn to your simmering acid,
well I’m gonna turn to a quivering lip.
You’re not a dove with the olive branch,
you’re more a vulture cloaked in white satin.
Whilst I am coaxing the roses to bloom,
my artifice delivers me ascendancy.
As you give oath to your inquisition,
your indolence hands you to dependency.

Blue And Grey

Although writing about sexuality gives me a somewhat liberating feeling, due to the fact that I cannot be completely open due to disapproval from my family, I don’t write about it often. This is one that I wrote a while back of two men discovering that they could feel differently to how they ever had before, even if it is just for one night, despite constrictions they might have elsewhere in their lives.

On nameless streets of persistent rain and gloom,
he walked with books in hand to hunt his way home.
It seemed a train station would not emerge soon.
He felt like he haunted an endless network of stone,
and without a guide to direct him he was surely alone.
The cobbled streets grew treacherous when soaked,
and when he slipped to the soil a kindness was evoked.

Two hands stopped him from staying there all night,
by lifting him to his feet and standing parallel.
When eyes had focused he absorbed in his sight.
Supported to sanctuary and he took in the smell.
He gazed at whom delivered him from where he fell,
negotiating away for amber liquid warmth,
he’d never noticed such an affection in this form.

Grey eyes stared back into a cyclone of blue tide,
as the storming sea drunk up a comforting tea.
Upon the arms of this stranger he wept and cried,
but any reasoning as to why could not be seen.
The sobbing and the silent in this empty canteen.
The stranger moved to have him to his right,
wrapped around his arm for it’s only tonight.

When the rain subsided, grey took blue to his room;
they sat on the bed and rested on the other’s chest.
They lingered so late that midnight dared to loom,
but they daren’t interrupt this affectionate rest.
Carrying on until neither colour were at all stressed.
Gathering face to face, they knew not to miss,
an opportunity on their minds, as they leaned to kiss.

The night reduced as mutually they both slept,
peacefully they dreamed to know the others’ name.
But sure enough they walked back, a deal was kept,
grey took blue back to a place where things were the same.
The held books were the minimal burden in this game,
A girl waited at the station, to herald his return,
blue knew now, from weighted Atlas he must learn.