Play that eternal Song with me. Pluck the strings of flesh, quivering with quickening ecstacy. Sing with gasping notes: a half-heard harmony for our ears alone. Beat those drums: a percussion of pounding pulse and energy. And dance that dance of sweat slicked skin and writhing limbs that lasts forever in just one night.

Play that eternal Song with me. Pluck the strings of flesh, quivering with quick ecstacy. Sing with gasping notes: whose half-heard harmony just four ears share. Beat those drums of pounding pulse and energy. And dance that dance of sweat slicked skin and writhing limbs that lasts forever in just one night.

What kind of poetry do you like? Do you pore over lines that rhyme? Do you skip lightly to the beat Of bouncing words with rhythmic feet? Do you like free verse which jangles and shocks you into the clear pool of introspection? Do you like sweet sounds, Oft spoken, Of love's sweet tokens? Or would you rather hear Less common sentiment? When you said, "A man Who writes poetry," Let me know What you meant.

What kind of poetry do you like? Do you pore over lines that rhyme? Do you skip lightly to the beat Of bouncing words with rhythmic feet? Do you like free verse which jangles and shocks you into the clear pool of introspection? Do you like sweet sounds, Oft spoken, Of love's sweet tokens? Or would you rather hear Less common sentiment? When you say a man Who writes poetry Let me know What you meant.

What kind of poetry do you like? Do you pore over lines which rhyme? Do you skip lightly to the beat Of bouncing words with rhythmic feet? Do you like free verse which jangles and shocks you into the clear pool of introspection? Do you like sweet words Oft spoken Of love's Sweet tokens? Or would you rather hear Less common sentiment? When you say a man Who writes poetry Let me know What you meant.

Pretend with me today That burning in your filthy loins Is truly pure love Bleeding from your holy heart That maggot crusted lies Which tumble from your rotting lips Are really shining truths Beacons for wand'ring ships That the stagnant pool of your mind Was just a broken toy That you left behind When you stopped playing games.