{"sf1_id":991088,"sf2_id":"dmWRKpBe","title":"One Night in the Old Church","author":"Horndog D","words":584,"posted_at":"2016-04-27T14:56:00.000Z","tags":["Adult Content","Church","Drugs","Female","Male","Naughty","Orgy","Poem","Poetry","Sex","Various Species","Verse"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/991088-one-night-in-the-old-church","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/dmWRKpBe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/6f/4b/6f4befa7-d081-479d-b3e4-84a4c2e00689","description":"#1 of Erotic Poetry\n\nI've dabbled in poetry for a number of years, but always lacked the courage to publish any of it. When I learned this month was the 20th anniversary of National Poetry Month, I took it as a sign that it was finally time for me to share something with folks outside the small circle of friends who (occasionally) get to see this kind of work from me. As always, critiques are welcome.","content":"At these three dozen steps from the womb,  \nI stand beside the edge of understanding  \nthe significance of these  \ntattered, rough-edged recollections  \ncolored pale as sun-bleached Polaroid snapshots  \ndisplaying the neighborhood church  \nas it sat in its final stretch  \nof rambunctious Sunday exhibitions.\n\nSnow white gowns and sea blue suits look  \nblack as midnight against the dawn  \nas they file beneath the Babelian stone steeple  \ntowering high as a skyscraper  \nexiled miles outside the urban sprawl.\n\nAnd sky-high echoing cries of  \n\"_Halleluiah!_\"  \nElated throb of ejaculation;  \nsins shamelessly exposed as  \nwanton calls explode thin hallways,  \nbrick walls bulging, swollen with noise:  \npraise songs, choirs, bells and the  \ngroan of the organ moaning deep in its throats.\n\nI remember, still, the light  \nthat rose above rows of empty homes  \nand the industrial mausoleum.  \nA massive museum of stalled cables hung  \nimpotent and cold, quiet as the old church  \nfilled with plates collecting dust and  \njagged books of earth.\n\nDandelions, fleabane, crabgrass, purslane...  \nWe find ourselves at home among the uninvited.  \nWhere doors once said FORECLOSURE,  \nlocks cling like spiders to weathered oak that splits  \nwith one swift  \n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;_kick!_  \nto reveal roads laid before scorched forests  \nwhere pews lie scattered like shipwrecks and  \nlusting tendrils strangle thin spires  \nbeneath the laden gaze of dark saints stained  \nby nightfall and fish nets of mold.  \nAir tastes of rust-eaten daggers,  \nheavy as granite slabs stacked high as lightning,  \nreal as bare-breasted bodies smoldering  \nhotter than a sudden matchstick ignition.\n\nClouds of culican smoke curl up from  \na stick of incense lit between my lips,  \nblurring the view of souls squirming like  \nwrithing serpents of temptation,  \ntongues and tails tightly entwined,  \nbacks arched in wide gateways  \nresembling wide eyes alive with desire  \nbeholding sights obscene.  \nWhat teachers called in nervous whispers  \nS - E - X.  \nUnruly ritual,  \narcane and mystical,  \nmore ancient than holy scrolls and  \nsharper than the whole of guilt.  \nRavenous as beasts with teeth gaping,  \npouring forth a torrent of braided choruses.\n\nSing!  \nPraise the mighty phallus,  \nraising as the day's sun blazing marvelous and grand.  \nHard as a steel hammer strike  \nspraying white-hot sparks of life.\n\nSing!  \nPraise the sacred yoni,  \npearl O of the moon swirling in her perfect oval orbit.  \nBlooming center of paradise;  \njewel-crowned portal to eternity.\n\nAmidst the eclectic ecstasy  \nof mingling, frantic vessels --  \nsculpted muscle, bone and flesh  \npooling, caressed by perspiration --  \nthe electric anthem of nerves buzzing akin to  \nangry beehives bulging about sweet nectar  \ncenters. Moist lips, blood thick, we  \nalign like planets shining bright as  \nfires rising above apocalypse,  \ncharring discarded shards of thought  \nto expose the hopeless beauty of youth  \ndoused in shapeless dreams  \nsoaked deep beyond skin deep,  \nsurging to frantic, racing currents,  \nerupting in waves that bend against island  \nshorelines engorged to galaxian proportions.  \nInsatiate fever and laws of nature refuse to  \nbreak as we wake to brand new life --  \nfurious, primal, godlike.\n\nWorship ends as the murder-cry  \nof highway tire shrieks and  \nsirens screaming loud as demons  \narrive to defile our sanctuary.\n\nChasing the space between secret exits over  \ntoppled tables stitched together like rivers'  \nbanks copiously overflowing,  \nwe burst through the entrance to night,  \nlightless under trees left free to reach  \nfor the stars.\n\nWe are flesh, fur, hair, hide, scales and skin,  \nwildly stampeding,  \nbounding over boundless rows of stones  \netched with lives lived quietly in piousness,  \nthe ruin of markers silently reminding us  \nwe are alive.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Erotic Poetry","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1051714-sub-dom.json"}}