Erotic Muses: Polyhymnia

I

O Aphrodite, ruler of my loins,
Your sacred body wants my praise:
I'll catalogue your every inch of flesh perfection,
For you deserve it, and your form enjoins
Your every devotee to raise
His hands and send a holy song in your direction.
Your pirouetting ballerina feet
And toes, clusters of grapes to suck;
Above them, smooth and milky legs my hands caress.
Your grassy mount of Venus is a sweet
Lea, and below it I can pluck
Delight--a garden hidden underneath your dress.
Behind that garden, callipygian hills--
Two rolls of fresh and tasty bread--
Hidden between them is your wrinkled, raisin anus.
Above those curves, your navel, then two thrills,
Your breasts: on each, a pointy head,
Your nipples, purple raspberries. O, what a heinous,
Unpardonable sin it then would be
To leave out your resplendent face!
Your lips are crimson cushions where my mouth can rest;
Your cheeks, delicate pillows that give me
A peaceful, serene sleeping place.
Your lake-like eyes give a reflection of the blessed.
Your hair, a golden river with its waves
Falls in a cascade down your back.
All of your body should be fetished and adored.
You are the goddess every lover craves.
If, in our worship, we are slack,
May we in your imagination be abhorred.

II

Inanna, mistress of my fiery breast,
As you go through the seven gates
Of the dark underworld, remove a piece of clothing.
Do not be bashful as you get undressed,
Or fear that your great power abates:
You'll never be an object of foul scorn and loathing.
At the first gate, remove your evening gown.
Why? Lady, these are the ways of Hell.
Walk on in your pink underwear to the next door.
Do not be shocked when, after going down
To the second gate, I bluntly tell
You to remove your bra and drop it on the floor.
With your two lovely breasts uncovered, go
To the third gate, and there take off
Your pretty panties; then continue to gate four
Without the slightest worry, even though
I see your pubes and buttocks. Doff
Your high heels there, and, barefoot, go to the fifth door.
Remove your jewellery there; sans ornament,
Go to gate number six. Wash off
Your fingernail and toenail polish, then go on
To the last gate without embarrassment:
Seeing your natural nails, who'll scoff?
Now wash away your whore bright makeup: with it gone,
I see your face as plain as nature's fields.
Don't feel abased by how you look.
Without your coverings, you haven't lost allure.
With neither clothing's nor cosmetics' shields,
You still have natural beauty's hook:
It pulls me in. Yes, though you're naked, you'll endure.

III

O Cybele, Great Mother of my yearning,
You, goddess from exotic lands,
Have lions that draw your chariot here to my heart.
I, Attis, am your lover, who is burning
To have you: let my hungry hands
Caress your cheeks and worship you with priestly art.
Your slave, I'll do what you would have me do.
I'll be your Roman Archigallus:
I'll wear all yellow women's clothing, with earrings,
Long hair, and heavy makeup, just for you.
Your temple will be like a palace.
But if you madden me, make me cut off those things
That point me lustfully in your direction,
You'll lose all your alluring power.
So give me back my love, and satisfy my thirst.
I'll lick your multi-petalled, pink perfection,
Your labia--a blooming flower.
When I'm inside you, you will think your priests are cursed;
You'll know the usefulness of what's removed
By those all-too-ecstatic fools,
And I will know the reason that we love you so.
With me, you'll have a priesthood much improved,
For men should have all of their tools.
I'll feel no shame if I'm arrayed all head to toe
In female finery, if masculine
Beneath my dress, in the right place.
For we are not our clothes, makeup, or jewellery;
We're spirits clothed in bone, flesh, hair, and skin.
Dressed up or nude, we can embrace,
Make love, and satisfy each other endlessly.