Trying to be Platonic
He kissed my lips gently.
I raised an objection:
He'd marred our idea of perfection.
Then, slapping his wrist too intently,
I found I had grown an erection.
Damn Plato! And damn being gay!
Self-traduced, we're in utter dismay.
We're failures; we're lechers
With ambitious conjectures
Which can't keep the carnal at bay.


The Private Aerodrome of Eros

No sooner does each plane take flight,
Refuelled by practised hands,
Than yet another hones in sight
And, softly throbbing, lands.


Loneliness

Everyone's now a celebrity.
Everyone gets to the top.
I've been searching in vain
For someone who's plain
And abnormally nice and a flop.