Tales of Sodom by Eoghan Lyng

Eoghan Lyng, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine


“I’ve douched” say I, clear in the head

that douche is a french verb, or so I’ve heard,

told to rinse you clean.

So he enters, bending further with

a warning; “size among size,

I’m on the larger scale”.

Fair warned, I take him,

Thrusting up to the point where it should linger,

but Dolores never sang for “the likes of us”.

Two pumps of agony, and suddenly we find ourselves in ecstasy,

Painting a silhouette where lovers are set on each other,

And I love this moment.

Breathing, I speak that I should kiss him,

And he listens, but I sense he’s not responding to the joy

I thought we had shared.

“Douching” he says; “It’s when a point of

excretion is free from

ignition- so wash!”

Hands held and carried,we shower each other,

Washing through dirt and through spit, it’s at this moment,

It couldn’t get better, and wetter we are, it’s

back to bed.


Wanking Off To Layer Cake

Hands off; looking for a smearing,

I fancy the jacket Craig’s wearing,

dressed to the fixes, shimmied out

in style;”I know you can shoot down

his Walther for his size”.

Hand on a wrist, we tickle and wrestle,

tied to each other to the beat of Danny’s

muscle. Edged on a luger, bullets in

the air; “you go in first, I like it down there”.

Two times prickled, three times pricked,

we turn back to the screen where another

gun is clicked. Black leathered gangsters,

walk around in swarms- how easy it must have

been for Matthew turning on.

He’s inspired by the lighting, inspired by the looks,

Sienna’s on a bedpost, Danny’s got her hooked!

We’re back in our positions, in the bottom ranks

we push. Hoodlums have stopped the sex scene,

but we’re ready with the push. I’m thrusting

in position, he’s pushing for the win. We smile at each other;

time to finish the film.