From: bob@netxcom.netx.com (Robert Thralls)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: (a poem), SEX && INARTICULATION, drivel
Date: 6 Apr 92 22:12:27 GMT
Organization: NetExpress Inc., Vienna, VA, USA

Comments welcomed and always taken into consideration. I have received only 
one (1) comment on one of five (5) poems posted. Does anyone have anything 
to say about anything other than the "inarticulate" posting? Please tell me
just how "inarticulate" my postings are... I may be new to the group, but
I feel I have been outside pressing my nose to the window ever since.
I would feel much better if I could get some help with my clairity and
eloquence. 
thanx.

PS: I always comment on things, but what are the chances that everyone wants 
to hear my drivel? I also mail comments (post when mail is returned) those
that contain constructive criticism... I would never comment on items that
only contain explicit sex, *constructive* usually doesn't apply. Besides,
it has always been [my thoughts] that the "starving" in "starving artist" 
when it comes to poets, doesn't usually mean food. Fruit of the whomb should 
not (necessarily) be the meat of the topic, but it does have it's place 
at the table. Postings that are all of love and sex (mostly sex) are not
good for me to read, mainly because I haven't had a relationship in over
year, mainly due to my lack of interest in sex for sex's sake. Call me
a prude, but isn't sex poetry at least *similar* to exhibitionism? Although the
sex poetry does not offend me individually, there are those who are offended
and thus the news etiquette should apply. Perhaps those things are best 
handled though a *private* distribution list. Not that you should not distribute
your art, if it be all of sex, just remember etiquette, and at least try to
occomodate those that you are forcing it on by placing someting in the subject.
thanx.

Anyway, until then, here's something with the word "cum" in it.

(By the way, it is meant that cum to mean "(adj) Together with..." as
American Heritage Dictionary has defined - although used as a verb?)
{for those that are not only "articulate," but also have a decent command
of the english language, I appologize for the definition}
-- I also guess that I must admit to structuring it as difficult to
   read so the 'slang' is meant as well. But don't confuse this with
   casual sex, if it were that, I would have had him whip out a condom. 
   After all, "I'm a safety poet" --
Enough drivel I suppose.
.............................................cut here..........................

	The shimmering light 

	A narrow dirt path through our mind
	when hot and dry we cough from dust
	that hurts us deaply, bitter like rind
	but we cannot turn back for noble steeds
	kick hard those that get left behind

	Man of age, leaving home, he is now squire
	rubbing and buffing, running about, messenger
	to a man that he loaths, but position he'll aspire
	one day he will train, one day he will fight, until
	such a time, he'll slave hard, long and perspire

	Twenty years past, now coming over the hill
	he spies a chateau, towers soaring high over sunset
	perhaps some food, shelter- the night is all but still
	ever closer draws he nearer and muffled sounds he hears
	come from the kitchen; Women against their will

	Athame in hand, battle gallop, steadily toward the door
	three maidens crouch inside while one is flung 
	across the table, two men dead as the hoods even the score
	a sword is drawn, athame not long enough, blade slashed gut
	for he cannot contain, falling, falling, already on the floor

	Maidens strengthened by his presence rise to sisters fate
	now four to one, justice prevails, the women have come
	not to mother bastards, but to wipe clean the slate
	they nurse him now, bringing back to health, never the 
	thought had crossed their mind that they had been to late

	Men come home from the fields, they are tired and weary
	expecting some sort of sympathy for work they gave
	on pasture and farm, no heed is paid to eyes so teary
	nor attention to those in aw, not a word was heard of
	interlopers, rape, nor a hug for a woman so dreary

	He feels thanks in touch, strength, he knows they realize
	he had planted a seed and they had grown, but could
	never expect to give passage from a manafest of lies
	feeling so old, so tired - having seen this time and time
	again, usually from a barstool, through a different set of eyes

	Dreams of splendor flow from the dark corners of the room
	pooling and stagnating, at the feet of these poor tired men
	one man taps his foot to the floor, watching a woman push broom
	she is aggitated by the dreams he once stirred, her gentle curves
	harden as she quakes from stress, resigning herself to gloom

	Off and on through out the night, one woman gently weeps
	another in muffled ecstacy, she turns now so that he may
	watch her play a gentle finger rhythm while her husband sleeps
	communication now, cannot be broken, she's asking to cum
	a little closer - nod - quietly across the commons, she creeps

	barren shoulders, breasts so smooth, standing before him nude
	she helps him roll from side to back, swinging her gate 
	across his lap, her hair falls to his chest, gently he is subdued
	covered now by an aura that is not his own, the colors begin 
	to mix and swirl until they become one, she rests gently- imbued




	moon shines through the open balcany, refracting off silky skin
	her eyes are charged with life, humming or chant he knows not which, 
	but holds her till morning, then to assess the mess again
	dove in too deep, too fast, knowing not where her loyalties lay
	he trusts her unconditionally, the heart is a place he hadn't often been

	when morning comes, all will rise to find them embaced as they ought
	she feels at ease with the others who know, but their is he
	who will cheapen the evening with his toung, sharply she'll feel caught
	she wanted out of what she had, she wanted a wholesome more,
	she wanted someone to grow with her- this is what she sought
	
	she wants someone to wisk her away, to breathe fire and light
	into her heart of darkness; she believes, unlike her friends
	that there is a safe haven and lives the man to treat her right
	thinking, now, he has come for her, she will not struggle
	with her past, only give in freely to what believed just might

	he lays there stroking the hair of a woman whom he will always dream
	wondering what life will be like tomarrow; she will come away with him
	without a word spoken, knowing what they both want, or so it would seem
	he will take care of her forever, without further delay they shall
	leave for a king's chataux, lifting her to the height of esteem

	each has a view of the other, none will want the other to know
	just how hard the road ahead will be, being a path walked by two
	for now they must walk hand in hand, watching for signs to show
	of a different way to live and dream, not always black and white, 
	the relationship, for now, is as fresh and clean as new fallen snow



	Beware whom you dress in shining armor, 
		a knight can defend your honor just as well as
		he sheilds himself from your better judgement.
						Arnica Montana


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