Androgyny and a labyrinth poem

The (she) Hermaphrodite & the (he) Narcissus by emilioefe

DEDICATED  to Julian Schuting

the phoenix bird flies with its beak

downwards already




beautiful aphrodite, goddess of greek love

aphrodisiac hermes, laureate taekwondo fighter

in his thirties



loves only him/herself




the she-hermaphrodite & the he-narcissus

enlightenshim/herself, he-she sees deep inside

whereas other eyes see the external thing

men love

women are loved

michelangelo buonarrotti painted adam and eve

and through adam he mirrored his own beauty

and that beauty of nymph-boys

in salmacis a hero-heroine rains and the leaves

keep the rain drops

they offer their green virginal purity

to the god without sex the she- hermaphrodite has sexual intercourse with herself in both sexes

she owns the knowledge & the beauty

as well as the strength

hesse h & baudelaire c

and nietzsche f  too

beautiful female and grave male: hermaphrodite

nobody can be so superior or arrogant

as that female human being

who loves herself & reaches orgasm thanks to his / her  dual beauty

the loving desire behind a woman´s face

nijinski and nastasia kinski at the blue stage

red curtains


they make gestures, jump, laugh, cry

sinister sensitive homosexual ballet dancer

those eagles, alone & majestic ones

the young people wipe saliva on their silken handkerchiefs

when listening to the androginous voice of bowie

bob dylan patti smith rolling stones

somebody skims through a creased comic by pratt or crepax

they lift weight to feel themselves a bit athletic in portugal

green sadness

the madman enclosed within his world  free and freewheeling

and crazy, blind man

doesn´t believe in people

he doesn´t think about people

I am myself

I am myself and a white bearded-poet with a strawed hat

the smell of grass

“i sing to myself”

and i sing to the body and i sing to the soul

and i sing to freedom

and i sing to fraternity and i sing to equality and i sing to the singing itself and love

my name is walt whitman and i am american

and i am spanish and italian

i am a man of the world like allen ginsberg

valentino jamesdean and marlonbrando

would read “the-she hermaphrodite and the he-narcissus”

in the intimacy of their apartments

in manhattan

and the statue of  liberty

would smoke lucky strike

hamilton and mapplethorpe

my notes and my poems

germany and france feed my head

blond-haired warriors, noble people

the superior man is enough by himself

hesse & nietzsche & mann


beethoven & wagner

demian & zarathustra

kiss to each other in berlin´s wall

homosexuality and gnosis

rodin is the thinker

daddy, freud has taken my balloon away

next to goethe-faust and that pact of the devil

every word should deserve a poem

gide and proust walk hand in hand in paris

under the eiffell tower

glad for their lucky star

the town of boys, the film by taurog

france is an elegant woman

she has a reason to feel conceited

baudelaire with a top hat and bluish cloak

chases after the little strumpet jeanne duval along the squalid lanes

where rimbaud and verlaine spend a “saison en enfer”

they ponder over their past

carolina de monaco

the bohemian way of life and the art

musset, hugo and gautier

“art for art´s sake”

alain delon

sartre and beauvoir

the man is condemned to think

the “perfumed fashion” vogue-jean cocteau

eluard embodies madness made poetry

greece and rome

visconti requires sexuality from women

passion and pure love from men

bertolucci passolini fellini

all these names end in i

venice naples florence

rome, heart of italy


amicis, ovid and leopardi play the harmonica inside elegant palaces

where guido reni paints saint john the baptist

and jesus christ

and adolescent now

imprisoned in the national gallery in london

not even salgari himself could rescue them

parks, classicism in england

hyde park and the lonely walkers

romantic lord byron

superego narcissus

the pirate who is in love with pirates

rebel satan, incarnation of his poems

buckingham palace and the queen victoria memorial

peter pan

the ducks in kensington gardens

in misty waters quiet niggers

adding colour to the streets in brixton

as if they were characters of a dickensian novel

eros smiles to shakespeare ironically while the old hippies and punkies are telling

the bobbies funny dirty stories

nelson kept on moving his body at the sound of reggae music in trafalgar square

accompanied by dr. jekyll and mrs. hyde

don´t pretend  to be absent-minded, you hamlet !

whenever i´m passing by

and wave hello to me in carnaby street-tiny toy street-

or don´t you remember we are somehow friends of having tea together at 5 at virginia woolf´s ?

tygra-ice and  fire- is having a drink in a pub, a beer or a shandy

the harlots in the soho dream about buying their clothes in bond street

and they can´t make eyes at you

like a spanish brunette girl would do

the wonderful ambigüity of women

by dante gabriel rosseti

the underground suffers from claustrophobia

somebody tells me that a mr.wilde,his friend bosie and a cute little dog





have just arrived at st.james park

there they pose for the dorian ´s gray portait

and make plans to escape to spain

the stateless gipsy

the cervantic hero

the self-worshipper pirate, wild, beau

the bullring, the bullfighters, the bulls

head and heart

fury and blood

gipsy singing -deep singing- “cante jondo”

lorca and his gipsy spanish ballads

andalusian dancer

alas! -a moan-

“olé” and clapping and the spanish guitar

the flowery skirts

soul and body

don quixote and dulcinea -his ideal woman-

make love without a sense of shame

and our hero doesn´t want to save the world

he has become a lonely egoist

unsociable man

the”sidi”-cid- campeador of spain

-“lazarillo”- little boy helping the blind man- i was in love with this sad feeling

dalí and “la celestina” -procuress-

artist & muse

george gina-myself, the man who is writing these verses

don juan tenorio

doesn´t need go-between

the bisexuals know how to cope with everything on their own

their beauty, their freedom

spain , bécquer, espronceda, rosalía de castro

unamuno, valle-inclán, león felipe




alberti and the angels

cernuda (if you know his secret you should be silent)

clothing & books

spanish boys are in love with miguel  -a singer- miguel bosé

and miguel bosé

is in love with his own image

mirrored on the lake

he gets the balance of the androgyny

he looks at himself on the water surface and he longs for himself

he looks at himself and longs for himself again

but he is not able to belong to himself

it is the narcissus ´ ill – fated destiny





A woman is prettier

A woman is prettier

A woman knows more about life

A woman feels much more

A woman is egoistically the Core

A woman is more erotic

A woman is more elegant

A woman is more subtle

A woman takes men in love with herself

A woman takes other women in love

A woman is in love with the Woman




Poetry flows

Poetry flows from me

it spills over and fills sheets of paper

my fountain pen draws flights of ink

I think I am poetry

I could not, I don´t want to avoid saying hello

to the Ambiguous Lady

and it grows & grows a special kind of art, my poems

that aren´t poems for anybody

except for myself

because it is mine, because I am poetry



“Anda, Preciosa”(inspired in a poem by Lorca)


Her moon inside her head

Androgyny dreaming about  she comes


“Her moon of parchment

Preciosa playing arrives”


Androgyny is in the air


“The silence without stars”


Prettiest little girl, let me see

what behind your face is

show me, once and for all,

the softened light in your forehead


“Baby, let me rise

your dress to see you

Open in my antique fingers

the blue rose of your belly”




NOTE : the verses between inverted commas are written by García Lorca. The first quotations mean a little girl playing the tambourine. The second one, a silence full of fears. The third quotations say, more or less : girl, I want to see your feminine sex under your dress. Of course, through a terrific metaphor alluding to a blue rose, in Lorca´s language.



Don´t love me too much, my rogue

Don´t  love me too much, my rogue

because you burden Myself

love me tactful

from your solitude ( in silence)

every lover carries his particular stigma

the best way he is able to


(love is, sometimes a great disdain)




Walt Whitman the Poet

Walt Whitman the Poet

used to say I am the way

I am

and that´s enough for



And Poetry makes more beautiful

What is nice beforehand



ANDROGYNY and a labyrinth poem by emilioefe



 “unworried men,ironical

 violent ones- so Wisdom wants us:

 a woman She is, she always loves

 an unique warrior”

(F.Nietzsche Also Spraach Zarathustra)


Androgyny knows it

She knows how to love an only man

only a man to care for

and She copes perfectly well

with the matter, by Herself,

in order to convince him

that he must love Her



The lover must love Her

Androgyny is the beloved one

& She let the things that way be

only a man

only a woman

to understand they are to love each other



And nobody helps Her

Androgyny knows it, though

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