Same Song Edens
LGBTQ+ Poetry
He speaks through his groin in the
pale morning for the sake of leaving
sparkling sperm on his man’s feet in
the spartan room made for gods and
Machiavellian authors who speak of
maidens castrating operatic figures so
supple and clean and ready for their
worlds to end.
***
And how does he destroy newspapers
depicting courts circus-ing boy-parts
in the name of Jesus. She hovers over
the whigs to save the fairies dripping
with the shame of redwood proportion
to bury him, he, they.
***
Maybe when the cosmos made touching
of the same male verses, their bodies
kept entanglement promises for mirrors,
and concluded that sameness would make
the archaic stars so entrenched in approval
of Creators that disapproval cut angels.
***
So, forget his tattooed likenesses and
forgeries because you have made him with
your primal mixing of the embryos
pulsing in your cult families and cell pools
that protect your offspring from digging
through the ocean’s bottom and ending the
goddamn world.
About the Creator
Paul Aaron Domenick
I taught high school English for 18 years but never developed my own writing and style until three years ago. Since then I have been submitting my work to publications. In exchange with others, my words constantly surface but never arrive.
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Comments (1)
Golden toilets exude pain A Machiavellian seat of pleasure. And the virgins are castrated shamelessly at the borders of despair and anxiety. Wigs and fairies will meet on paradise's door Don't worry. A mirror is life itself and the finger pointing straight down into gangrene. We made us. Patriarchs, rapists of small children, damned donkeys that defile little creatures in churches. And the responsibility heavy as a sigh.