Old sperm

I see my sperm lying still upon stale urine
and I know that I am old

They longed to live like beer-foam
fluffing up for nothing

I stare at their attempt to maintain hope
then flush them away gently



...sex, that cursed gift from God
-ken stewart

pf

how could we ever love each other
with ten-foot circles encasing our minds

forever in a danger zone
we bumped each other at the edges of our circular rounds

smiling at distances wider than sewage bins
we couldn't feed from the garbage
pigs gobbled in our heads

some wonder how some went astray
the sexual roaming beneath their skin

we starved for the human, the scents of flesh
an occasional embrace, conversations without suspect

a pat on the back and dialogues on love
would have protected us for Jesus
as we were crucifying the flesh

but we killed him while trying to discover ourselves
keeping him good and dead within circles build around shame



The risk with prayer is that God may answer me, giving me what I need instead of what I want.  God may take me where I would not go but only to where I can go and do what I can do.

Prayer is profoundly dangerous and revolutionary.   It can change me, killing what is not true about me so that I may be truly myself.