It's so very, very many
like an Indian Temple with carvings
of every position we have to do
every night, and throughout days
do we sit only to make flavours
and dyes and shades and colours
to the endless chaufets served
whose origins was lost to time.
A little green devil
it is dancing on our shoulders too -
but as the origins of Kama Sutra
it was to remain in the temples
for Kundalini is so dangerous :
The old serpent beneath the tree
it whispers in ancient tongue
of every possibility outside self.
I do so understand,
that we must be devoured by it
inside its belly did we lay
around our spines did it circle
upwards the tree it climbs
then descends as it strikes so
violently, so viciously, so
venomously into our minds.
it's only to control it :
My dick gets so hard my balls
are shrunk into tightness
of every pleasure, perversion
which can be imagined,
My holes are vibrating in grasp
as if in my blood streams
was pure poison made to drink.
Into me you bite
and I into you, for this chaufet
it fills us both with death
from which life was made be,
for you become my mother
and I am the father of the child
which was born in us both -
Into our eyes but gaze is seen.
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