Tag: gay

Poems

Pinball Queener

(for cm)

Exactly how good are you

at pinball?

I really want to know.

Are you good enough to

make me know.

I really want you to

make me know.

Right there on the machine.

You standing watchfully.

Taking some cool breaths.

On the machine.

Pulling the plunger.

Flicking those flippers.

Oh ringing the golden bells.

Just making those lights

bling bling.

I would like to see those lights

bling bling

on the milk white skin of

your thighs

alternating over that contrast of

your black tattoos

and up on your Irish fair eyes.

Also on your black lipstick.

Flash flash.

Bling bling.

Poems

The Bullrider

Lil was a champion rodeo

bullrider.

She was handsome.

Chiseled jaw.

Sharp Nordic features.

Short cropped shining

bright blonde hair.

A weathered, smile with

pronounced lines

that could warm any

room or person.

She smiled, laughed,

and cut up a lot.

I liked that.

I saw her and she saw me,

my dark eyes,

over-mascaraed.

She was gritty and tough

but her heart was light

and loving.

She watched me all night

in my frilly green silky

dress and wanted me.

She knew I was a transwoman

and didn’t care.

In fact, somehow that made me

very lovely to her.

A femme and floppy,

gay as all hell transwoman.

When the dance hall closed

she approached me.

I saw her belt buckle and

her strong legs in cowboy jeans.

She asked me with a nod and

her eyes and so I let her take me

and lead me outside.

We walked 50 paces in the cold

Colorado spring night air,

then we came to her travel trailer.

Her hand had been strong but

gentle on my hips

the whole walk there.

At the door to the trailer,

she said, “Can I babe?”,

then she tilted back my pink hair

and kissed me strong but soft

and sensual.

I lost my breath and wanted more.

I put my hand on her chest

and asked her to take me inside.

In the soft shining warm lamp

light I dropped to my knees,

on old linoleum floor.

My dress split and I kissed her

thighs in jeans, clutching her

bullrider’s ass.

She unbuckled and I saw what

was pristine.

So I made love to her with my

mouth.

Silky, wet, strong.

I made her tumble.

I made her gasp.

She clutched my hair.

She said, “I’ll cum on you

if you cum on me”.

And I replied, “Hell yes”,

all moany.

She buckled over, spasming.

Then one minute later

she threw me on the couch

and humped me til I was a mess

and I was screaming and I

was screaming

with my lovely bullrider a top me.

I forgot my body.

I forgot my mind.

So I leaned in and kissed her

very very deep.

Two women softly humping

at that point.

Moaning and panting.

Yes,

we are proud women.

We are proud women.

Poems

A Handy Dyke

A handy dyke
is a joy for a femme.
It doesn’t matter if that
handy dyke
is butch, chapstick,
femme herself
or whatever else.
She, this handy dyke,
relieves something for
the lone femme
that the lone femme is unable
to do, live, or achieve herself.
That is why she’s handy.
The handy dyke can do
what the femme cannot.

Poems

Why Does The Queen?

Why does the queen

not sit on the throne?

The queen sits on a carpet

on the floor

with plebeians, peasants,

monks, witches, and shamans.

Why does the queen

not send armies into war

like the king?

The queen sends spices

and fruits to the villages

so the people can

make their food.

She sends instruments

so they can make music

to celebrate life

and lament their dead.

And wood so they can

warm their hearths.

Why does the queen

not take a king?

The queen makes other

queens.

History has had kings

enough.

Poems

The Other Side Of The World

I flew to the complete other side

of the world.

After two days there, I was able

to find something I’d been looking for

for 5 months in my home town.

That’s love and attention from

another woman.

To be touched. To touch.

To be savored. To savor.

To push gently. To be pushed upon gently.

To trust and give into. To surrender.

To take and do. To lesbian top…

in a tender, passionate, servant way.

A 23 year old Japanese university student,

based here in Bangkok,

with a sweet American girl name,

a self avowed domme (and a damn good one)

… this is who took my breath away

and made me cum my brains out from

sucking my tits and spanking my ass.

The journey and the waiting were worth it.

What is it that comes to those who wait?

Poems

Lesbian Witch

She is the first lesbian witch

who I have known.

Who I have loved.

Wanted very much so.

But I will never touch her.

For principle.

For reasons.

For learnings.

For loving my soul.

For loving

her soul and

our soul.

This soul.

The perimeter is everything.

Cast out everywhere.

Radiation. Reverberance.

Joy. Patience.

Acceptance how things are.

This is the kind of magic

that a lesbian witch weaves.

This is a spiritual love poem

that only high Sapphic love

could write.

So there, now I touch all

the women I love

… so holy, holy, holy.

Poems

Top, Bottom, Or Switch? (from my dating app profile)

I’m a lesbian top.
A “servant top”.
I like to use my tongue,
lips, hands, and toys.
And very good, attentive, caring,
and tuned into all the above.
Love to blow my lady’s mind
and take her breath away
and elevate her soul.
While I like to be the “doer”,
I’m very femme & sensual
at the same time;
gaspy, moany, intoxicated with you.
Love deep kisses and being
chest to chest.
I prefer not to use my thing
that was turned from a clxt
into a wee wee
in my mother’s womb,
but if you really want that
then I could be open to it.

Poems

Damage & Joy (Gorgeous Clxt)

She has the face of a pristine
angel.
And a heavenly, swollen, strong,
smooth, suave, sweet,
feminine power clxt.

And that’s about where the
alignment of our
hearts and minds ended.
Her narcissism liked my passionate
attraction to her.
My servant soul liked giving
into and pleasing her.

But we were able to do
quite a lot
with just these elements;

lots of damage
and lots of joy.

Poems

I Hung Around

I hung around a guy tonight.
He was really horny.
I was really horny too.
He was kind and cool,
and honestly,
pretty handsome.
I knew that should I want,
I could have him, we could fck.
I would know exactly what to do.
I know how to satisfy people,
anyone,
deeply,
pleasurably, heavenly.
But as I said,
he was a man,
so I had zero interest in him.
It’s moments like this that I know
I’m gay.
Horniness meets horniness.
It’s there for the taking.
But I do not take it, nor do I care.

And so I laid down in bed and
thought about women
and touched myself.

Poems

The Unnecessary Journey

Did you want to see my gonads?
I’m not real sure you do.
They’re really very weird looking,
like all male-born gonads
(in my own personal opinion).
After receiving female hormones
they’ve shriveled up a bit.
I’d even say they’re kind of cute now,
as cute as male-born gonads can be.
46 years ago
they started on a journey.
Ever since, they have come outside,
into the golden sunlight world.
And since, I’ve wish they’d go,
go back inside,
or maybe even go away completely.
They’re going to be removed
from my body soon,
so soon, their unnecessary journey
will end.