Love & Sex: Past/Present/Future

I think the love poem is a thing of the past. I haven’t come across not one written in the last century. The love letter too has been long lost, for better or worse. It also seems we’ll soon be unable to compose a love song. Some say chivalry is dead. Men are impatient. Women complacent.

The last 50 years have been transformative as proven by Moore’s law. Every couple of years or so, a new wave has hit our shores. Presently there’s much indulgence in the virtual forms – whether internet dating, sexting, camming, phone sexing, or cybersexing – much of that is owed to the power of the computer. We have indeed become more creative in this regard. Some say these are just new expressions of the old instincts. No decadence. Women and men equally curious participants.

Now one wonders about the future. What then when all potential lovers are able to know everything about you before you’re even introduced because their glasses or lenses recognise not only your face but can reveal to them your entire history. When the sweet and sometimes necessary little lies can’t be concealed any longer because what we think may be projected on screens and even our dreams may be recordable. Will we walk around in suits that make us invisible to microwaves to avoid detection? Will a well managed reputation be of more value than beauty and wealth?

When cars do not require you to open the door for your ladies because they insist on doing it for you. When robots respond to you more favourably than would your partner. When the children you will have are predictable. When chips can stimulate you just the way you like – keeping you perpetually happy. When you commit wholeheartedly to monitors that there’s not half left to give the other.

Love which has up to this present day preserved some sort of form under the congruity of universal ideas in its regard, with some acceptable expressions and a few disagreeable ones, is soon to fully mutate, again for better or worse. One wonders what the standards, the measures and most interesting, the pleasures will be in Love’s Future.

© Heath Muchena, 2014

The 20 Something Experience

When asked what his experience had been, he answered:

She once played guitar and sang for me,

and I once wrote her a poem whilst we were under the covers…

we watched and played sports together,

explored beaches and forests together,

dined and attended theatres together…

we even got high together

and stayed up many nights talking about whatever…

we laughed all the time,

cried for each other sometimes,

made love everywhere…

There was a long silence and then he continued:

that’s pretty much everything.

© Heath Muchena, 2014

Kiss Speech

She kissed me –

emptying her lungs,

I breathed her in

and began speaking in tongues.

© Heath Muchena, 2014

Love Hallways

Some doors are open and one can see the superficial displays,

some are closed with windows that are double glazed.

Some are clean typifying a kind of naivety,

some are less so perhaps because of too much gaiety.

One but stands out —

not spotless but quite impressive,

the door is shut but the window open –

delicious aromas escape through it,

the sound of sweet music suggests a disposition wildly innocent,

and so on this door he’ll knock.

© Heath Muchena, 2014

The Wave of Emotion

Emotions like tides advance and retreat

but always wish for calm.

On sunny days they sway one way

and on moonlit nights another.

They are never truly home nor away

yet always somewhere in the realm.

And because there’s a thin line between love and hate —

emotions free but they also enslave;

just as a sea floats but also drowns.

© Heath Muchena, 2014

a writer & his function

If I had to choose between never writing again or never making use of my love muscle –

I’d have to weigh the fact that I’m only qualified to call myself a writer

since you’re hereby reading these very words

and not for any credit else worth mention…

against another fact that I am fortunate to have had thrust upon me

such an impressive package with much credit given for its performances.

Yet the question posed to me as it was by a confidant,

left me with as much indecisiveness as amazement.

© Heath Muchena, 2014