Am I #edgy?

Am I edgy? At the recent Loyalist workshop, when my piece was being commented on, one of the women started by saying – “knowing Duncan when I saw this was his work I knew I was in for something edgy, out-of-the-box and funny and I was was not disappointed.” This woman later presented a great piece about street people – one dressed in pink tutu with matching feathers in hair, so she knows edgy.

To be honest I don’t think of myself or my writing as edgy. When I think of edgy Electric Jon or Cathy Petch comes to mind – but me, I’m pretty tame, right? Sure when I write about sex I’m direct, fun – often people compliment me on being ‘brave’ – I just don’t get it – I know my audiences pretty well – what I present at the Erotica Writers certainly isn’t what I’d present at a high school poetry class.

shadow of the snake

So I guess writing frankly about sex is edgy? Or is the matter-of-fact way I present these pieces what makes them edgy? I’m thinking – what do I find edgy to write about. One area is race and sex.

Watching a recent spate of Weismuller Tarzan movies on Turner I couldn’t help but notice the amount of nearly naked flesh on screen – particularly the many ‘native’ bearers and tribesmen. I recalled Saturday matinees when I was a kid seeing some of these then and realized that the erotic appeal of black men had started then – now is this a racist memory? Is this dehumanization via a fetish of blackness or just some adolescent male seeing so much man flesh he likes it?

This reaches its apogee with Woody Strode in Spartacus – magnificent – his skin shines like armor in every scene – this movie brings up the another erotic area that caught me growing up – bearded, burly men in skirts. All those sword & sandal pictures: from the Ten Commandments to Hercules in the Underworld (I longed for Hercules out of his underwear).

Loyalist hardcore work
Loyalist hardcore work

I love all those Biblical epics with nearly naked men everywhere, rowing the galleons, training to be gladiators, just hanging around the market place waiting for Jesus (often a bearded hottie with a dozen other yummy bearded men to party with) to show up. When I see these today I am amazed at the amount of male flesh in them and am not surprised at how they informed my adult sex objectifications.

Sure there were pretty women in most these, usually so pure they gave our hero reason to win, or so evil they had to be vanquished. But first they’ll dance for you. Always in definitive period make-up too – eyeliner, eyelashes and blush. Not to mention cleavage that I’m sure required post-dub to removed the echo of any dialogue said near the valley of their ample, yet perky, breasts.

So Hollywood made me the queer I am – is that edgy?

bookshelf – some assembly required

 

writing sample
writing sample

Slap Unhappy

my masochist lover wants to leave

I’m not causing him enough pain

he’s tired of merely being ashamed

of being seen with me in public

he needs more domestic humiliation

I reminded him

it wasn’t my fault he needed an audience

in order to feel the depths of abasement

that got him off

besides I have rotator cuff tears from

spanking him every time

the dishes weren’t cleared away fast enough

testicular torture

aggravates my carpel tunnel syndrome

tennis elbow from fisting

doesn’t get me off at all

the constant stream of abuse

I had to supply him with was so draining

I had no spite left

for people who really deserved it

like that asshole barista

who couldn’t make a latte

without a shake of cinnamon

I told him twice no cinnamon

and when it came with a dash

a sense of futility

flooded me with each sip

of that fucking latte

I had no choice but to go home

and take it out on my masochistic lover

but that wasn’t enough for him

and now my masochistic lover wants

to leave

because I don’t make him suffer enough

he feels I don’t care when I hurt him

that I’m not into the brick-weighted nipple clamps

into the cigar scarification

that I do those things with too much detachment

I ask him why my not caring

doesn’t add to his sense of being abused

isn’t it worse when the abuser

does it out of boredom

and not out of passion

once he packed up his latex

I slapped him goodbye

then shut the door

suitcase

@TorPoet
@TorPoet

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