The Bosom of Venus

By Bud Koenemund

For TK
(& James Franco)

Thou art, Lady, worthy of sweetest rhymes,
That might entice the bosom of Venus;
Possessing a beauty which transcends time
When thy visage serves to kindle genius.
The mysteries of inspiration lay
Beyond my ken, but I must praise thee, Muse;
As verse twirls in a lyrical ballet,
I accept thy favor without excuse.
Yet, I would trade all those words for a kiss,
And the sound of you whispering my name;
Oh, welcome desire and hasten bliss,
As souls unite, forged strong by passion’s flames.
   My sanctuary lives within thy breast;
   A place I pray my heart may find its rest.

Concupiscent

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

I write so oft' of my respect for thee;
Assuring my heart's allegiance to thine –
A bosom prized above the air I breathe –
Begging thy hand; our fingers intertwined.
But, lust has o'erwhelmed thoughts of purity,
And desire craves thy touch on my skin,
While we mock the curse of avidity –
Two merged as one in consecrated sin.
Passion swells, demanding release boundless
As fantasy; yielding all; submitting
To nature, and each other; a guiltless
Surrender to hunger unremitting.
   Though I seek no grace for concupiscence,
   I pray my true love will pierce thy defense.

Doomsday

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Must I await thy call 'til Doomsday come?
O, wilt thou grant my wish: either to claim
This disconsolate heart as thine in sum,
Surrendering thy bosom to the flames
Of that passion enkindled by your eyes;
Or, emancipate a soul thus enslaved –
Bound by my devotion I'll not deny –
Allowing, through grace, a mind to be saved?
If thy will be the former, affection
Is mine; if latter, I'll be forever
Persecuted for my self-deception;
Withering as doubt clouds each endeavour.
   All that I am I once more offer thee,
   And beg: requite my love or set me free.