tagErotic PoetryBy and By and Other Poems

By and By and Other Poems

byCal Y. Pygia©


Longbow gigolo
Notched arrows
Quivers full of sorrow

Walking the pier
Was like walking the plank
Sharks waiting just below

No golden dreams
Anymore inside the mines
Wherein diamonds scream
And shadows writhe
Against cold, stone walls

Yesteryear repeated in my ear
Sounds of desperation
Lewd whispers of longing

We cannot all be rich
And famous or beautiful
But I am one of them

Touch me
Here and there
In the night's garden
Of earthly delights

Sunset's coming
And it won't be long
Before I come undone
Streaming arrows at the sun


Seeds sprout into protean shapes
Without cell walls or flagella
To whip themselves into a frenzy
Of photosynthetic misery.

The spoons don't match--not always,
Not lately--but the guests don't mind,
And the television still bleeds,
Black and blue in the night,
Disturbing my vision with possibilities
Of the way things were
In the minds of pale writers
Needing their next hundred-
Thousand-dollar fix, and one
Of them has a new girlfriend
Young enough that neither
Her nipples nor her clit
Hardens or aches much on cue.

I see your mug has grown
Peaches in triplicate,
Leafed and stemmed,
Which is quite a ceramic miracle
On a Sunday, this side of midnight.

Drink to me in the flesh,
And learn to curtsey;
You may see me again
Someday, in satin and velvet,
Bright with decadence
And scented with peaches,
Leafless and without stems.


The soul inhabits the space
Between being and nothingness,
Where frogs fornicate
With flitting hummingbirds;
I wait for you there, inside,
Where the Spanish moss drips
And no one stares
When the emperor with no clothes
Passes them by and by.

Candles flickering in Newfoundland's
Arctic chill, bristling nipples
And reducing balls to shadows
Of themselves inside shriveled scrota
Make me want you beside me when I die
Again and receive a sweepstakes
Invitation from the crypt on high.

Novus Ordo Seclorum
Is coming soon, to get you,
To win you, if it can;
To kill you, if it can't.

We are mesmerized and taught
From, earliest ages, to kill or cripple.

Categorical confusions, and I am
All over nasty contusions
That do not seem to want to heal.

"Never mind," you say,
"They are decorations
Lovelier than scarification's
Ill-gotten goods," and glorification
Such as some girls enjoy
Are not meant for transsexuals,
Anyway, at any place, anywhere
At any time, ever.

Shemale fossils are missing links
Between fallen women and angels,
Making men and women
Mere categorical imperatives
Easily ignored or overturned.

We are an age in transformation.
We are a nation in transformation.
We are a species in transformation
And we will transform you, too,
Beyond your wildest imaginings,
Into bodies never fancied, even in
Your worst nightmare dreams of utopia
The way it is, here and now,
Tomorrow and forever.

By and by, Lord, by and by. . . .


Violin against her chin,
Beau in hand;
She plays sweet, sad music,
Inspired, some say,
By the immediacy of his pain.

I was once the chords
Of a baby grand;
Now, I am happiest
Just fluttering
On my new, iridescent
Butterfly wings,
Heedless of gender
And sexy as hell.

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byCal Y. Pygia© 0 comments/ 6492 views/ 1 favorites
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