All Photographs of Flowers are Pornography
Just a little idea I've had floating around my head for a time. Given the overtly sexual nature of the world it can be surprising how prudish we can be as a species. Maybe there's an unchecked power to the shame. As though a wild and reckless repression and the outbursts that follow from it have gotten our species where it is now, wherever that might bee, but who knows.
Anyway, I've opened up commissions again after a half year's hiatus. Be sure to hit me up if you would like to work with me
All Photographs of Flowers are Pornography
(a Bee transformation poem)
By malicthewriter
Here upon the roads worn side,
A flower starts its bloom.
I lean to glean its scented hide,
To vanish all my gloom.
Much more soon changed with me,
I can feel it in my bones.
As I smell myself away to glee
Those bones grow quite alone.
Seldom now and fewer soon,
My body shrinks down greatly.
Distracted with my need to swoon,
My size diminishes hastily.
Into the flower I soon crawl,
Clothes behind unneatly.
Desperately I yearn to scrawl,
A plea placed quite discreetly.
A yearning just an inch tall now,
So powerful its true.
I hope this poem finds someone somehow,
It's from bee to you.
For shirked completely was my form,
And all around I heard the buzz;
Of sisters now I called my swarm,
Black and yellow showed my fuzz.
Sister bee I was set free,
My body gone, sex too.
Upon the flower deliberately
Insect urge indulged, true.
Every mote of petalled spunk
Stuck on my fuzzy hind,
Near shattered by the bliss I thunk
Of pleasure in lost mind.
Better than even sex this was,
I licked deep into the stamen.
Of flowers' pleasure I soon thrust,
My body, to the day's end.
For twice upon the petal's fold,
I came and came again;
For a flower's pleasure take full hold
And have you muttering your amens.
Sex with flowers, how truly vulgar.
It all felt so obscene.
Our I rolled, my eyes a bulger,
Upon the green I reem.
Back inside I soon return,
Hungry for feelings so surrene.
Engorged genetalia, I did learn,
A flower's form and function gleaned.
Of virile queendom I did lack,
Yet desire refocused, in lieu,
Into the flower I rest my back,
If only I could show you.
The pleasure of life goes far and wide,
Across great gulfs it's shared,
For subtly sensible after the ride
The flower's pleasure, so deeply layered.
I couldn't believe it, this didn't feel true
The pleasure so grand and boundless
Mere manhood traded to Earth, overdue,
Of all such pertinent profoundness.
I had no idea how erotic a bee could be,
My sisters all spurred me on.
And though break I took upon the tree
My sense of shame? Now gone.