For Thrusting’s Sake

Someone once compared sex to religion, mostly so that then they could use that tired old joke about how, it must be because an awful lot of praying occurs during.  And I’m not a big fan of the joke, but I geuss something stuck.  People like to tell you that the sex isn’t important.  That you’ll get older and it won’t seem like such a big deal.  But the population over 60 has once of the highest incidence rates of STDs… how do people explain that.

Sex can seem like a religion.  It has rituals and preparations and rules.  Most people have differing ideas about whose way is right, and that’s alot like religion too.  And it’s not that I think of sex as a religion, I geuss I think of it more as a form of prayer… like the whirling dervish people.  You have to be present in the moment.  You have to be there mind and body, and for it to be real good heart, mind and body.

Being present… reallie present for something is sort of like worship.  Anyways, I wrote a bad poem, but I didn’t want to throw it away and so Livejournal becomes it’s unluckie keepier.

Thrusts are felt but never heard
skin against skin is  all the world
muscles tense and soul at peace
finding joy in sweet release
A bursting cloud of thunder showers
the rushing awe of total power
each moment drowning in joy or grief
two bodies seeking true relief
each thrust and parry a work of art
reaching upwards towards burning hearts

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