On Youth, Love, and the Muse in Three Parts
I.
What rare delight it is, when spring and youth,
pregnant with life, explode all o'er again!
When sex organs mature, and know lust's truth,
lewd sensations soon tempt the once-chaste brain.
Youth, like the juice of love, flows with desire;
and then demands its portion of swollen flesh
as yet pubescent flowers bloom with fire,
while passion's ready, willing, and still fresh;
O Love! O Soul!—How nature can inspire,
something as glorious as when two join and mesh!
II.
Together as three, we in ménage à trois
meet; and unite like Cupid's lock and key,
moaning and sighing in love's lustful patois,
expressing our cores' triad ecstasy.
Together, as a youth and his two maids,
we come; our bodies, moving like the ocean,
ebb and flow, rise and fall: it never fades,
as maidenheads (now laid fresh in this motion)
ooze love's warm fluid in copious spades,
moist, milky-white, and sticky like thick lotion.
III.
O Muse! None can inspire my rhyming pen
like you. By Hippocrene's spring you quench my thirst,
that I might have breath unlike other men;
and may offer you thanksgiving while I'm versed!
Therefore, I greedily drain your soft breasts
for the sweet, fresh milk of new inspiration.
For your breast-milk is easy to digest,
as truly blest am I by your lactation.
So here my rhyme's revival's now expressed,
as I'm now free from creative cessation.
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