expired

how would the girl next door

look when she fapped it?

he’ll never know

as long as she’s controlled

by the eyes of the windows

to the communal courtyard

where all coming and going

takes place regularly

and even gods or demi-gods

won’t stride along chased by

the human dogs of gossip

and demon creatures of the

upside-down new liberal

movements

or even by both?

since locked down by law

there’s no human being seen

around

but stones/empty buses/

abandoned streets/closed

shops/except for the one

run by the red cross

selling food with expired

dates

where mummies queue up

people with masks/sunglasses

hats and caps

not even the eyes are free

to express themselves.

the poet listens/but nobody

talks

he observes/but there’s little

to observe

save for his friend the egyptian

the pizza baker

liked by most customers

polite/friendly/good willed

who still smiles and laughs

at any banter or joke

about peculiar human stories

“just another few weeks” he says

“for what?”

“for all shops to open”.

“really?”

“yes”.

“all right it’ll be a great day”

“thank you for coming to

teach me some german”.

“my pleasure”/the poet replies

and queues-up at the red cross

shopping for expired foodstuff.

still enjoyable for many here

‘food is precious’ says a label

advertising for its consumption

expired.deripxe

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’20.

alas

in the bus 400

toward the city of saints

white two-way masks donned

and people you count on

one hand

i’m glad not to have alienated

yet while a visit to the viennese

small goods market means

we have drastically decimated

or most are afraid and stay

at home cooped up.

i think how lucky i am

to have friends left/beautiful

in mind and body/lovely to

see their smiles.

even the sun smiles today

from a lacquered blue sky

at times like an upside down

ocean

jets like ships leaving white

marks on the quaint

med’s blue

friends send me their poems

or detect excellent stuff

created by the last great poets

pretty postcards from pretty

islands /notes/ greetings

just as i post mine on

wordpress/facebook

personal to a muse –

there’s a virtual poet’s guild

a virtual artist’s community

alas.sala

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’20.

eros at play

it’s sharp and clear

in front of me

when i woke into

a wintry morn’s light

snowflakes falling rapidly

saturated with moisture

not dancing down like

in days gone by

when life was easier

drunken by a dream about

a young Simchi – back then

mischi –

child-woman worming up

with her warm thighs onto

my sunburned thigh

clasping sacred embrace

to see about her tiny

bubbles on her forehead

her dr-hubby supposed to

open up and drain –

the touches of her thigh

chafing my own

felt deeply erotic –

so see what an e-mail may

cause such sweet a dream

with my aunt in a nun’s habit

sitting next to us

observing

and from then on

the poet will extend the play

of his intuition.

do we meet 2x in life?

eros at play.

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’21.

twentieth song

you love me in a way

that enraptures my body

like music does enrapture

all my senses

waking me at early hours

of the night

turning closely into this

pre-dawn touching

primordial inert desires

advent before the first light.

your lips lovingly part for

a smile that multiplies

in crawling touches upon

me

causing my lecherous body

moves and desires

devouringly moving up and

down my body in never ending

waves of rising pleasures like

a chopin nocturne

you come and wake me into

the warmth of your bosom

the wet cushion of your mouth

swelling on my erection

in hot/sweet pushes of your

bobbing lips

your circling tongue that brings

me to break my breath

that arches my spine into you

now

to a breaking point

spent.

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’02/’20.

nineteenth song

death in prurience came

swift and wanted this morn’

like at its most heightened

moment of pure concupiscence

waking with a hard-on that

sticks proud of the body

shapes the softness of my

pajamas like a mound that

has grown proud out front.

your hands are never still

thanks for small wonders

you love my ways of

prurience

you kiss my cock to turn

me into solid rock

into the warm pulsating shaft

that spikes your body

in this rite

we do so lovingly

subscribe to daily.

this ritual that became

a religion for us

we follow in all depth

with all desires

in pure lustful transformation

that turn us into ecstatic

saints as we do nail each

other with

bittersweet and painful

poundings

to this cross

of orgasmic screams.

i hold you close and

shake with you in the

aftermath of shock-like

lust and pour all my love

all my tenderness

into you

like a disciple of the

master

like a disciple or an

adoring follower of

the rabbi :

jesus of nazareth.

so much i love and adore

you and i feel your love

like a tremor flooding thro

my loins as you kiss me

hug me intimately in your

genuflect adoration

your lips you place in a

long and ardent kiss on my

head that now swollen lies

warm embedded in the

moving womb of

your mouth.

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’02/’20.

eighteenth song

did my pencil

tell me about your shapes

of stretching your body?

letting me be your lover

touch you intimately

and kiss your face

let my tongue like

my cock

penetrate you

slide on you like a log

into the stream from

a wooded hillside

dive into your wetness

that drives my thighs

into clambering gyrations

my hands that grab your

bums

as you kneel down and

i take you from behind

in liquefying sensations

i feel you just now

at the end of my erotic

tour de la vie

as you guide me vehemently

into your cleaned sphincter

that takes a tight hold in

an intimate clasp

we cry into the storm of

our trembling fornication

fluttering in our hearts

we fall like poplar leaves

slow and gliding steadily

into our ‘little death’

so well

so oiled

so exquisitely performed..

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’02/’21.

seventeenth song

drunk with love and lust

i sink deep into this dust

of subtle meditation

metamorphosis of my mind

this cool and tranquil groove

overgrown with orange fruit

scents of your body’s heat

that entices my dance in space

with you

untouched and free in flight

a space travel of clouds

dissipating –

forming into spheres of

cubes and ball shaped figures

sculptures of mist and cotton

wool

airiness that has no time

no hindrances to float through

me

and now I can visualize your

body like a turning spindle

like a fireball/a cocoon of body

spheres

stretching/turning/everywhere

inside out and outside in

you are in me

your body opens like a funneled

flower

a soft molded receptacle

a sacred dish for sacrifice

that offers me this reviving

drink

my cracked dry lips suck-up

the juice that drops like

hot wax onto my face in

pricking sensations with

every single drop –

my body now convolutes

in exotic twitching

tarantula’s dancing

wild and uncontrolled

a savage beast in heat

that lances, crying out

to his mate that this is

now an end

to utmost exaltations

this libido of crushing shapes

and ever changing

kubrik’s cube games

in 3d,

bundling together all my

strength

my most intensive want to

create/re-create/pro-create?

creating another life/two/

that of a loving pair that

tasted the enticing demo

flights into the presence

into the future

into this window of

prurience’s paradise.

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’02/’20.

sixteenth song

late/late at night

when my senses seem

dulled from the daily

deeds

the lights are out.

all the overactive people

fallen into a snooze

young bodies sway in

dance-like moves in their

rave

but I sit alone and seek

your sensual presence

that would lull me into

a wellbeing-climax

bring me close to my

dreams.

the way you sit and

choose your words

that make my body so

heftily aroused

you let me feel your love

on my body’s shape

your face that sweeps

your love into my loins

your lips have become

your receptacles

that take me into you

heating up my stiffened

Cock

along its hardened shaft

you so lovingly devour

slide along in bobbing

moves

like I will slide into you

when we can be alone.

this fellatio you can do

on me tonight

that heat you blow into

me

that turns into sweet

thunder

explosion in your mouth

that’s your soul’s

innermost extension.

paying me this compliment

the largest indeed

a woman in love

provides to her lover

her beloved.

i am dying sweet and sticky

in your tongue’s circling

moves

i press against and push

in excited thrusts against

you

i hold your head and feel your

breasts

pressing me between their

softened mounds

letting me slide all over you

covering your body with

my juices

trails of white/sweet sap

i rubbed so tenderly

into you.

oh sweet suck! my love!

how could I sleep tonight?

i desire you so much

it’s still hurting me

to find you lonesome

i will be soon in you-

and all will be again well

for some time.

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’02/’20.

fifteenth song

in the quiescence of early
morn’
when erotic images are mingling
with my body’s involuntary
moves
that resemble primeval dancing
rituals
when bodies seek
Each other close
you wake me with a touch and
kisses
that rush desires for you
right thru’ my loins
rubbing of bodies and skins
that catch alight
in our semi-conscious minds
we move as we have always
moved
in sliding circular motions
then you guide me into you
i slide and slide and disappear
into your cunt that sucks
my cock
that sucks me into you
and all myself
my heart and soul
my body will dissolve in you
a final rocking and with a
final cry
and when a deepened sigh.

we lie outstretched,
i watch your body’s shape
that lies on its side
your hip that rises against
this early light
like a whale
smooth and soft
i still move into you
wanting to extend this
pleasures I feel
piercing your tender flesh
merged with your warmth
of your inner vulva
i let you caress my throbs and
lance
with these contractions of
your labia that kisses
its swollen head and places
your ring of licks around it
that makes me come
in spurts
that takes my breath away
and claws my fingers into
your arching back
into the softness of your
bobbing thighs
i cry/i cry myself relieved
into the height of your cries
feeling the urge
to be in you forever,
and then die.

zoltanzelan
zjg-poetry’02/’20.

fourteenth song

standing alone

naked in the darkened room

and waiting for you to appear

do you lust with your

suppressed desires to seek me

in my room?

across this tiny courtyard

where we can extend our

minds and bodies

project into this darkened

void ourselves

with candles lit to outline

our shapes and to let the

other half absorb the body

we want to touch

to hug and absorb with our

hands

our burning skins and our

kisses.

we switch on our lights

it is past midnight and we

connect to each other through

our earphones

‘good evening love’ your voice

reaches my ears softly ‘i love you’

‘let me kiss you’ i say and hear

your breathing increase its sound

as I touch you.

‘take your top off love

let me touch your breasts’

‘oh’ is all I hear as you bend

backwards on your bed

let me touch your full ripened

bosom

kissing your nipples I feel your

hands on my crotch

my rising penis.

you are doffing clothes

in this seduction of each other

i go down on you.

you cry out and throw your head

back in a wave of pleasure

your fingers pinching my nipples

make me grow and let my fingers

slide into you

finger-loving your pussy

sing out in lust you will

‘ahhh’ as you feel your climax

burning you

omitting more cries

that turns me on for you

‘i want to slide into you my love’

i hear myself moan and arch

see your eyes gazing at my erect

phallus

your hand touches my bums

let my buttocks ache for

your finger’s sensual massage

i feel my breathing increase

notice your eyes slowly closing

as I move my pelvis against you

and move it back again

my cock diving into your lubrication

this slide that feels like a sweetened

push and pull

bathing in honey and in milk.

there is a burning swelling from inside

as I hear you moan ‘come on love, come!

oh sweet fucking, finish it love!’

‘fuck me anetha, harder!’

you scream, ‘oh sweetest fuck i come!’

then i hear your cry that penetrates

my head/my body/my heart/and my cock

and as I touch my balls I feel this

rising urge to come, to ejaculate

my juices into you

hold still for those moments

when the spasms I feel coming

i enjoy so much

this rushing come to spray into you

and press my penis into your vulva that

grips my cock in its spastic climax –

i come, and i come and feel the spurts

of semen bursting out intermittently

against this window –

you see the runs of milky white

from my body’s juices.

i see your finger in your cunt

and the other one plucking at your

hard pointed nipple.

arching back we come together

in a final cry ‘uhhh…uhhhhh/fucking

sweet anetha

fucking you all over

my very best of fucks

ahh…hhh…hhh’.

then we dim the lights,

we lie on our beds and now as it

is deep night or early morning

it’s a night of lovemaking

across a courtyard through the

windows

in the darkness and in the void

across this ocean,

in a great distance.

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’02/’20.