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I offer to members and visitors alike three poems of mine that explore the darkest forms of love...China Hamilton.

Photograph copyright China Hamilton

The Garden of Depravity 

Walk with me vile woman,
Through the studded door,
Set amidst the ancient wall
Of crumbling ancient stone.
Through there lies a garden,
Fashioned by a whore.
Together we will trace its paths
And taste its wanton wilderness,
Sweetly on our dripping tongues,
Fresh from private pleasured sexes.
Juices mingled tight and thrusting,
Sweating bodies twined and lusting.
Beds of poisoned growing weeds,
Watered with our gushing piss,
Dripping from our open mouths
Urine but a Lover’s kiss.
Tight ropes bind your sweetest breasts,
Whipped and squeezed until you cry.
Massive yews hold back the sun,
Ivy strangles all that’s dead,
What is left will surely die.
Arsehole opened we are one,
Cruel attentions torture testicules anew
My suffering such dark happiness for you.
My semen on the plants as dew.
Forcing fingers part your hole,
Dark and wet as are its bowers,
Bereft of posies happy flowers.
Red runs blood at twilight hours.
A garden full of Lover’s Love
Rejoicing in our naked forms
Of such beautiful depravity.

Photograph copyright China Hamilton 

“The Dawning Day”

You are so Loved.
By the winds above,
By my sword below
That seeks its sheath
By birds that fly.
You strange child,
The wreaths of power entwine.
Special, yes exquisite
A taste so potent lingering upon my tongue,
Uncertain doubts,
Their deceptions, shackles on your progress
Taken to that dark-red forge,
Struck away by ruthless blows
Of confidences hammer.
For you are most comfortably Loved,
My dawning Lover,
As together we have seen the dawning day.

 

Photograph copyright China Hamilton

The Old Wind.

Follow me says the wind.
And you step naked from the shadows.
Follow me says the wind again.
You Kate grab at a tress of its curling force,
To feel and know the growing of its strength.
Your smooth hard youthful form,
Twists within the girdling wind,
And takes a step of knowing innocence.
Follow me says the wind,
For I am old, so very old,
Born of a time before there was time.
And I am young says My Kate,
Still to be born, still to grow.
She parts her legs eager to know the wind,
Invited it accepts her soft caress to enter her.
Follow me says the wind,
Within you is our dark Love
That is our trusted tryst’s dear union,
And the wind draws her climax sounds
As the shrieking of the ancient trees.

 

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