These poems are a creative attempt to unify the conscious with the unconscious.

I. Dormant Lust

A woman lay sleeping on a wide open bed
In a barren room where someone left her.
I pass the room thrice at a golden hour,
Still she lays with her form hardly changed.

Her eyes closed towards a naughty sun,
She had no face, only form and soul.
She was without complete identity
And I think she means something.

She not only lay there,
but even more — she slept,
Dreaming under grey silken sheets,
Frozen and quiet as Strazza could place.

Sudden light shimmered an image –
A picture to imagine privately.
Within the fantasy I am full a man,
Nature willing her nape to mine.

Released from blindness I see her unchanged.
Molded by the stillness of Hypnos,
She was without complete identity
And I think she means something.

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II. Cunning-lingus

Within a fleshy
gourd of skin,
By feverish mouth
and wary suck,
His vision lodged
in desperate sin,
And face in
backward morals
stuck.

Where dangling organs
play the scene,
Sinew lines the vestibule.
Her odorous pink
and filtering spleen
Should immunize his
passions cruel.

His suffering
desperate efforts aim
To please a queen
receiving none.
Some other man more fit and tame,
Could please her fair
and him the same.

Some fruits
are meant for play when bit,
By cunning lips
his face
made wry,
A fruit consumed
but never fit
To appetize a homo’s lie.

III. Sonnet on Saint George of Lalibela

Adventuring in some forest overgrown,
An orange pick-up shaking as I ride,
Some shepherd at the wheel his face unknown,
Our destination soon shall I deride.
A shady glade reveals my unknown prize –
The mossy bunker hosting souls to feast.
Some cross of giants flat in earth she lies –
Saint George of Lalibela takes her priest.
The prize inside a sacrifice could be,
A shovel in my grip to dig beneath.
What led me so was not for me to see,
But feeling pulled by grit I grind my teeth.
Within the chamber where her tunnels meet,
By righteous kicks sweet pain am I to greet.