I don’t argue that there’s a lot happening where Folsom meets Dore, but I’m hanging in the Ville and doing the AIDS Walk. In no way am I judging who’s a saint and who’s a sinner — Lord, it’s tough enough to trudge from brunch to dinner. But I will say that in both cases, we’re people who got their asses off the bar stools and into the streets. Come (or cum) join us. This day’s for living life.
Cherry ripe his lips did say
as i kissed the juice away
take me now and spend me fast
make our time of passion last
through the morning into night
Cherry ripe from blossom white
eat the fruit and spit the stone
lift me up and take me home
on the kitchen table rend
show me some new ways to bend
Cherry ripe his lips did say
as i kissed the juice away
whip cracks echo in night
quickly like a snake bite
pain leaves pleasure
icy touch brings heat
dominate submission synergy
passion brings salvation
mercy master baptize me
I am the very model of a Priapic Cardinal
I’ve information sexual–pederastic, homo, and animal
I know some Queens in London
And a Leather Bear in Saracuse
My porn is sorted in its bin
In order categorical
I’m very well acquainted too
With matters Kama Sutrical
I’ve many cheerful facts about quadrapedalsexuals
I wear a dress when you confess
And think bad thoughts while saying Mass
I’ve seduced more altar bois than
Than ever have I litanies I’ve prayed
I use a pallium for bondage
And chrism as a lubricant
I can’t help it because I get off when I’m de-flowering Catecants
My pants have got some strange stains
With my vestments I’ll not trouble you
In short in matter sexual–pederastic, homo, and animal
I’m a the very model of a New Order Cardinal
I’m the Silver Star Sodomite who makes no secret of his preference for leather not lace, and I’m open that the only way I like vanilla is with lots of bourbon sauce. Sounding, candle wax, and creative uses for my silk ties aren’t for everyone. I’m down with that. Frankly, I agree with Bernard Shaw that we shouldn’t do unto our neighbors and we would have them do unto us as their tastes may not be the same. I think this mix makes it a much more interesting world, and I’m happy to give everyone the space and respect that I expect.
This weekend is the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco. For those who don’t know Folsom, as it’s often called, is the culmination of the of San Francisco’s Leather Pride Week. This year’s poster draws some inspiration from Leonardo di Vinci’s Last Supper. http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=1448963784&size=o
“‘Gay’ activists disingenuously call Christians ‘haters’ and ‘homophobes’ for honoring the Bible, but then lash out in this hateful manner toward the very people they accuse. In their version of The Last Supper, Christ, Who gave His life for our sins, is despicably replaced by sin itself as the object of worship.”
I don’t know maybe it’s my Pagan sensibilities, my twenty years in visual art administration, my own BDSM preferences, or the genuine concept of peace, love, and understanding I get from my membership in a UU church, but the poster doesn’t disgust, disturb, or dishearten me. It’s art pure and simple.
If memory serves, di Vinci was illegitimate, counted Machiavelli (whose Il Principe found its way to Index Librorum Prohibitorum) among his friends, and is generally considered to be homosexual (with speculations that the Mona Lisa is actually di Vinci), so it’s not likely that the original Renaissance Man is counted among the Church Triumphant.
I can only hope that none of the Christian Right come across Passio from Dark Alley Media in their browsing to keep the Internet clean.
I also want to give a special shout out to Ravenstone for bringing this to my attention via the OUUCH list serve.
His Master’s Voice
take from me the painful pleasure
with your feet against the wall
tense the muscles in your thighs
anticipating what’s to come
harken to your master’s voice
deflate my ego by your passion
let your blue eyes urge me on
while your mouth implores me stop
vanquished now by your submission
slay me with your little death
tie me up while i bind you
who’s the master or the slave
give to me the pleasure painful
as my mouth implores you stop
Come
Wear scarlet boxers and an azure robe
when you bring the coffee from the press
be prepared to take them off
and let them pool in the floor
like spilled ink or melted crayon
be prepared to fill and be fulfilled
and scream out praises to an unnamed god
Tie the silk around your wrists
and secure your ankles to the bed posts
be prepared to give me the essence of
your being and take from me
all that I hold dear
be prepared to fall to heights
and enter realms charted yet unknown
fly with me to ecstacy and I will sail you home
sprinkle me with faery dust
as i bind your to our bed
dance your song and
sing the dance
glad that we’re both men
tangle me in your web
as the candle wax i drop
a kiss upon your ankles
the two backed beast we make
brace the depths
and brace the shores
keeping it in mind
it is my hand what wields the whip
yet i’m the willing slave
quietly while playing with your
coffee cup you tell me your grand news
moving to another world
becoming who you choose
but were i to tally up the times
you’ve lain beneath my sheets
or called out with ecstatic joy
your ankles at my ears
counting would become my
job my hobby and my life
and you would still by lying
in bed next to your wife
I’m sexually uninhibited. I’m open about my Leather thing. Sounding has a certain, though as yet unrealized, appeal. I even understand those who use BDSM as part of their masturbation; while it’s not my thing have at it Babycakes. But there are things I just don’t get. A few minutes ago I was checking the spam folder to make certain something important hadn’t been mis-routed and found an e-mail with the subject line telling me that I could grow my penis so big my boyfriend couldn’t fit it in his mouth. WTF? How ‘bout I keep what I have and work with it? After all, I’m decent in the ways of pleasure. Okay, I didn’t open the e-mail, so I’m not sure what it was — perhaps a strap-on affair. However, I don’t really know why gay men would want a strap-on. I mean you have the True Form, why go with a simulacrum? It astounds me.
This came up with a friend today, and I really want to set the record straight, er, gay. I like my bottoms like I like my coffee: blonde and bitter and preferably in bed. Though to be completely honest I’ve no aversion to the couch, kitchen table, some riparian locale.
