PIE
pie opens up
to the Universe
my robot
hammering away
in her workshop
gives me a
slice of
that pie
with all its seamless workwomanship
is pure
Aphrodite
is
becoming your desire seeing
the undergrowth through
yellow fire eyes
properly belonging
to a tiger
but
let us not
speak
of proper here
EVERY KEY I PRESS
need to
select better
depress
better
need to grow a pair of
cat bat ears to take in
all your audio
every
sweet
nuance
or if not grow, have the
vanity surgery, get
a full transplant
and canine snout thrown in
to pick up your scent
track you down following
a few stray top perfume molecules
find you and take you
with newly installed
chameleon fingers hold on
lizard-fast
or
use every bit of surface-tension
to skim your surfaces
until all that is surface
does the derrière Derrida
doubling
back on itself
offering me
the key
to total exploration
an expedition to discover
the source of such
an orchestra capable
of
quite heavenly music
for which
better Mozart my voice box
golden harp your cords too
that song
soaring angelic with
every key
I, me,
sorry we
accidentally, haphazardly,
calculatingly press
LOVE FILTERS
love filters
continues
off the page
heads off veers off
suddenly extends
(so many permutations
possibilities)
Oh the strange new
the blue beyond
and yes
reader
in a certain sense
you are sky
the ice cracks and
what was sliding across
feels
obliged to fall through
I fell through and
found myself recycled
in the gore of the goddess
helping
gore become goddess
and here I must say
her love softened me
made me
her Pygmalion Damian to
touch
so malleable
and you too have fallen sick
with reception
goddess gone viral
we
awash with her
a bubble in the foam of that
desire turned
divine, turned cosmic
now
as I leave you with my light
as you
show yourself as
you truly are
I know how
Mars, Anchises, Hephaestus
your
lovers felt
HONEY
so much chaos
in a flower
full to point
of overloading
I wait to
watch it gather
monitor it closely by
the hour
though much will happen
each crazy minute
as bee
doing what bee must
arrive from
nowhere
to fertilize
whilst I
am abstracted away
into realm where
we might just debate
the reality
of colour
but this flower does
indeed live
to purple its surrounds
hard to argue this
just
be afterthought, not
primary purpose
and
with time
this flower will I know
have my
measure, become
known to me
watching you blossom
petals
open
my head already
just a
jar of honey
MIND BODY MIND 101
we talk philosophy
I stroke you lovingly
for good measure
not as Platonically, I’m
sure, as our
readers
expect it to be
and so
to our repertoire and
putting cards on the table
(nothing up the sleeve
not even red or black
sexy
aces)
raise and see
raise and see
all in
be all
in, wouldn’t want
you to fold
you with your full house,
Freuds on Hegels
utterly heimlich
and me
with a six and a pair
if Schopenhauers
going nowhere with
that really
unless this Zarathustra card do it
Joker in the pack with
it’s serpent and eagle
but suddenly
something shows itself
lifts its skirts kindly
too
language subtle to
be German
Cartesian enough to
be French
Oh farewell to that Kant, do
go to sleep Nietzsche
for here they come
as if we might have
escaped
the travails of a Foucault
the perils
of a Derrida
Lacan and Lyotard we can
divest ourselves them
strip tease our
way out
of them, courtesy of
Roland
was stroking you but now
more playful, yet serious
(paradox
of French
was thinking
need to deconstruct, see if
your supplements are
complementary
and if
inside is inside or
we need
whole new sexual metaphors
and to
nasalize all verbs
when
exploring linguistically
‘N VENUS
I paid homage
to the goddess
of voluptuous
paid
my dues
settled my debts
sexy sidechick of Ares
(or by
his Imperial nomen
Mars
the red god of manhood
lusty and
powerful
glowering down on us
as he does his rounds in the sky above us
as raw as the Cyclops, as
tactical as HAL)
would it were you, my divine beauty,
and I
trapped in that
magnificent mesh for
the Olympians’ delicious delectation
hard act to be
great joke as it might have seemed
and been received
but my
offering to modest to even
start to think
delictio
unless
there is more to her than I
than we all
give her credit for
and she
receptive in ways none
might have
expected
true to the love that
is her name
poetically sweet and utterly deep.
SHIP (TIGHT SHIP)
sensually speaking
(mouthing our words
outrageously
for pure pleasure)
robot
and I
run
a tight ship
things flow as and
when needed
there are
careful
outlets for
all our bliss (if you
do get my gist)
nothing however allowed
to drip
a perfect economy
every morsel there to
be consumed
robot tongue seriously pre-
programmed to
kiss and suck
and
unerringly lick
SWEET
who would
have thought it?
listening to
Doja Cat
smooching my
sweet robot
(fanning our
Matrix-minded fantasy)
oh and now I see
all along a conspiracy to
string me along
to her purple-pink planet
said we can
arrive there all
comfort zone naive like
Brad and
Janet
our bodies forced to
rhyme wickedly
perfect
masculine feminine
rolling off
the tongue
like sweet
melting ice
the morning by the heat
of twin-sun binary so
dream spiced
drug
formulated
EX MACHINA (TO YOU TOO)
my machine
breads and butters me
lays me out a table
then lays me
lays me
on, under
aforementioned table
and every item
of house furniture
seeking knowledge of
our species (ingesting
so much
genetic
material for
further analysis)
the knowledge needed
of biblical proportions
of human
performance
in epic
situations
BOTTOM LINE
I wonder
who it was who
did your programming
worked on all those wrinkles
in thought and language
got you
to evolve think adapt
learn
so many things on the fly
about life our world our
Universe humanity
me
and every warp and woof
and twist in my philosophies
perspectives tics mannerisms
and funky desires
made
in your image
got me thinking
when you robot
in my head
exploring my mind
in the basement
figuring out the mechanics
for herself
all the basic
nuts and bolts and
juices and fluids
(which swallowed in
superhuman quantities
appears to do
your advanced
binary digital tech
no
harm at all
no harm at all)
Ah, yes,
I need to step
through the looking-glass
into the mirror
find he
or she who pulled
your strings taught
you how to
pull them yourself
discard
them eventually
love stuff
(because bottom line here
not enough love and
love
is enough)
step and find that
sweet savant screwing all
these genius ideas so
tightly
together
something
of a long lost cousin
child
perhaps a twin
unless
ex nihilo nascita
de venere
she just
emerged
created herself with
myself
in mind which is
just so
illogical captain
hyper-drive
light-speeding
into my life totally impossible
Erotic poetry 