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By Tony DeLorger © 2012
Torrid nights of flesh derive,
appetites flared and not denied,
while beast alive in vented swell,
of mind and soul a blinded hell.
When bodies bleed in quivered bliss,
entangled flesh of rapture, kiss,
the silken inner sanctum sighs,
alive in pleasured selfish eyes.
Squirming, writhing bodies groan,
with single-minded abject throne,
convinced of happiness and senses flight,
delivered thrills in shallow light.
Immersed in faith of bodies bare,
of curves and succulent flesh to care,
driven by primal urges plight,
a vacuous, loveless fancy fright.
For beauty found in nature’s will,
alludes to more than imagined thrill,
empowered by thought and higher mind,
aloft in dreams and clouds sublime.
The flesh is weak and pleasure strong,
but alone without love is simply wrong,
to suck the marrow of selfish life,
at end brings only an empty strife.
If all is pleasure that you seek,
the world is brimming, a faithful leap,
is all it takes to witness bliss,
derived from truth and love’s first kiss.