Toxins
This glinted blade engorged in avarice and ‘friendly’ vice,
parting fickle hope in words, frustrating masturbation.
Non-touching toxin, safe advance to woo and then to slice
skin so thin it crumbles under slightest connotation.
To spill your seed on Phoebe’s breast, obey the sacred heart-
pulsing, gorging, make believe you’re drunk upon your ego,
Malignant raging centrepiece, a cock and counterpart
hanging there defunct misfired-re aim your bent torpedo.
Re-jig corruption hewn in fickle sentimental farts
talk in code-Enigma never undermined libido-
these mind games lost in sentience, within the worms do squirm-
judge your stock by cut of jib, not cunts you left bed-sided.
This warfare you create inflicting sex upon your germ
harsh reality, your penance, ignorance misguided.
Possibly the most explicit & brazen sonnet I’ve ever read ~ ‘outing’ a multitude of male masturbators from their secret e-caves. Brilliantly put together, Shan ~ a predominantly phallocentric pastime devoid of any ‘other’ (yet undeniably damaging in the extreme) fully exposed. In parts your language is cryptically Thomasesque (Dylan) … & there were shades of Rollinson in there too, which made me chuckle like we did a few weeks ago when I read him ‘out loud’. A mistress piece of poetry & ecriture feminine to boot!
Cheers Peter, remembering the tongue in cheek Rollinson spurred me on to the cheekiness absolutely required for this brutal checkered sonnet. Some people say it’s impossible to tell a story in form. How wrong they are! Cheers for popping by
Love this sonnet – a rapacious cock indeed! You have dissected Internet sex mercilessly – I agree with Peter – it put me in mind of Dylan Thomas with the imagery …
Well written. So true.
well that is fresh…ha…and not only do they rob themselves, but any future intimacy…well done shan