Archive for the ‘Woman-child’ Category

Wm in Chains

“Pornographer, perhaps. Blasphemer, no!” ardently, he said.

“Now, look into the camera, and spread.”

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Tiziano_ Amor Sacro y Amor Profano (1514)

Renaissance Man sees things another way,

he has *perspective*.

He is not moved by your dancing,

writhing,

bestiality,

nor by your gimmicks and VR Glasses.

Athens, Rome, Moscow burn?

He plays cello,

calmly reflecting.

A peace inspired by Plato.

Renaissance Man looks boldly

into the future,

he sees shit,

he flushes toilet.

Nuclear wind blows,

Summer and Winter,

my hero,

never old grows.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Hong Kong Jockey Club_ Happy Valley

 

“Well,

that depends on your definition of pornography.”

… Do you care about me?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Woman sleeping

 

In my dream,

he kissed me passionately,

told me I was beautiful.

He licked my neck and said:

“I wanna fuck your brains out!”

… And other terms of endearment,

such I dream.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

“I hope she’s worth it,” I say to my brother,

though I already know the answer

is no.

Endless,

meaningless talk,

stress, pretence,

moral bankruptcy,

wage slavery,

dementia…

What men will do to get fucked.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Neither President nor Rezident can keep it in their pants,

but it’s OK,

every man wishes he was Kennedy.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

He’d drunk enough to be honest, open.

“You’re not like other women,” he said,

“You know, they go on and on and on, non-stop talking, idiotic things. I wanna scream SHUT THE FUCK UP. Women like that, hah, they’re the main reason men like blowjobs. You know, with a mouthful of cock, finally she’s quiet!”

He laughed at his joke and swallowed another drink.

I raised my eyebrows and remained silent, smiling condescendingly.

Men and women aren’t so different after all.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

“42, wow! Being a prostitute agrees with you!” he exclaimed, eyes wide, genuine vibe, no trace of irony.

“You look awesome, beautiful.”

Lyuba, 42.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Shtange, Irina Dmitrievna (1906-1992) - Tri Gracii

 

I ask him why men like looking at naked women,

the more,

the better.

“It’s primal…” his slurred reply,

jaw gaping,

“and inspiring.”

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

“That’s the smell of life, baby!”

he said, thrusting the damp Kleenex in my face.

I winced.

Strange, his smell of life…

strongly redolent of dead,

rotten

fish.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat