It's All in the Mind (of God)

Is the thought of a sinful act,

or the actual act itself,

the sin? (What is sin?)

Is the intent to commit crime,

or the commission itself,

the crime? (What is crime?)

No man can know the thoughts

in another man’s mind,

let alone judge.

But, if allowed to create religion

based upon the existence

of a mythical being;

and create laws to govern others

based upon the words of

such a being;

then man empowers himself to

sit in judgment over all

dominion...

for he truly has the mind of god.

~gj duerrschmidt

Fountain of Youth: A May-December Relationship

Some old men live

for fishing,

others for golf out 

on the green;

some adopt frugality,

hoard their riches

and act mean.

Some are plagued

with sickness,

living out the days

in doctor’s care;

some have long

since lost their teeth, 

their mind, and 

all their hair.

Many have lost the

joy for living,

and simply wait on

Heaven’s Gate;

never having known

true love, they

put it off ‘til it’s

too late.

 This old man found

the Fountain of Youth,

and a whole new

lease on life;

he’s full of spunk

and vitality,

with a mind sharp

as a knife.

He drives a vintage

hippie bus,

sports long hair in

a ponytail;

wears frayed jeans

and Jesus sandals,

and whatever looks

cool on sale.

You see,

He discovered a new

life partner,

who’s young and

cute as he can be;

who’s taught him

how to love again,

and how to set his

spirit free.

They play all day

in the sunshine,

at whatever they

feel best;

and play at making

love all night,

in their condo in

Key West.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer:

The Orangenous Zone 

Good Deed My Ass!

Jaded, callous, and cantankerous;

once upon a time it wasn’t so.

All the losers, users, and parasites

transformed me, if you must know.

My gentle, gullible, compassion

made me easy prey, or so I think.

I fell for all the yarns they spun

and gave plinkity, plinkity, plink.

‘Hey buddy, can you spare a buck?

No, well then, how about a dime?

Please listen to my sad, sad story.

Give me a moment of your time.

I need cash to pay the bridge toll.

I need some cash to feed my kids.

My clunker car has run out of gas,

now my new job’ll be on the skids.

Your time, money, and sympathy;

is that too much for a guy to ask?

Just throw me a ten, or a twenty,

I’ll thank Jesus and go buy a flask.”

I’ve never really had the money to

share with even the truly in need;

but I’ve pissed away a small fortune

on boozers in the spirit of good deed.

I’m now living on a fixed income,

there’s less sand in the hourglass;

all that I have remaining is mine,

so go to hell, you worthless pains

in the ass!

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer:

The Orangenous Zone 

Reflections of an Adonis

(Photo of himself provided by Zachary)

Not too buff,

a hint of tough,

a beautifully rough

Adonis.

Slight detection

of deep reflection;

summer’s benediction

upon us.

He had a blast,

the days now past,

wishing they could last

forever.

Getting laid,

here in the shade?

Well, at least he made

the endeavor.

Another year,

back here at the pier,

oh, he’ll still be queer,

but older.

Having fun,

worshipping the sun,

having found “the one” ,

now bolder.

 ~gj duerrschmidt

Writer’s Note:

There’s never enough

time to summer.

There are not enough

summers in a lifetime.

 * sigh*

For more by this writer:

The Orangenous Zone 

Getting It Off!

Wearing clothing is

much too restrictive,

and often times proves

untimely vindictive.

Clothes stop the flow

of passion as it rises,

regardless of colors,
brand names, or sizes.

There's too many buttons,

snaps, straps, and zippers,

turning horny lovers into
wild Jack the Rippers;

stripping off their apparel

and tossing it all aside,

until bare ass naked with
nothing more to hide;

free to pull out all stops 
and go straight for the prize,

with nothing but “Oh Gods”, 
deep moans, and sighs.

So why wear clothes at all;
isn't this a good lesson?

They just get in the way of

all our hot, primal messin’.

Once we say fare-the-well

to Abercrombie and Fitch;

then our getting it off 
won't be such a bitch.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer: 

The Orangenous Zone

The Morning After Poet

Something’s

brewing,

inside me,

stewing,

about to be

spewing,

verse about

screwing;

I can’t stop

chewing

on lurid

thoughts of

you.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer:

The Orangenous Zone