Hey Satyr!

Hey Satyr, new in town?  Come here often?

What’s your sign? Wha’cha drinking?  Gotta light?

Is this seat beside you taken?

‘Cause unless I am mistaken

You really look familiar, am I right?

I sure could swear that I’ve already met you.

I don’t believe that I would soon forget you

With those horns upon your head,

I imagine you in bed

And the way you’d like to fuck and how I’d let you.

So how about it? Wanna play?  Feelin’ lucky?

Want to come back to my pad?  You want to fuck me?

Want to ride in my caboose?

Want to squirt some Satyr juice?

You’ve given me a hard-on.  Wanna suck me?

I’m sure you’d be an animal inside me

I’d like to saddle up and let you ride me.

I’d let you really rut

As you romp upon my butt.

And you haven’t really fucked until you’ve tried me.



Hello, welcome

I’d be gratified and satisfied if you share this site with friends and family; if you wanted to come in here, then your friends are fine by me too.  On other pages you’ll find original poems, most with an accompanying image or multi-media.  I’m still making audio and video tracks.  I’d also welcome pix you might send me.  If it fits, I’ll use it.   The best way to enjoy these is to read them aloud, so that’s exactly what I’ve done.  Read along with me; they fairly trip off the tongue.  By the way, you may notice my readings stray from the printed text, this is intentional or otherwise.

A friend asked about my writing, “That piece you were writing about your sex life... is it finished yet?”

“God, I hope not!”  I replied.


Satyr’s Salutation

“Thanks for stopping by to have a quickie,

I’m so glad to see you’re horny, come on in.

Throw your clothes upon the floor,

You won’t need them any more,

And nothing that we do here is a sin.

We can suck and we can fuck with gay abandon,

And every hole we want to, we’ll explore.

We can get down on our knees,

We can smell a bit of cheese,

But leave your inhibitions at the door.

If you savor and enjoy the musk of manhole,

And relish turgid dick on palate fine,

If you love to take a load,

And you moan when you explode,

Then come on in, please do, the pleasure’s mine!”



And what else would Satyr want to say

If came he here, upon this very day?

Would he let me stroke his horn?

Would he want to watch some porn?

I’ll tell you what, he’d probably be gay.

He’d probably be gayer than pink ink,

Much gayer than that gander, don’ cha think?

He would have a high libido;

“Let’s get laid!” would be his credo;

He’s always up to go and have a drink.

That Satyr’s sure one sexy hairy beast.

When he walks in all pulses are increased,

Inspiring all these gentlemen

To get experimental when

Testosterone is up (to say the least).

Who wouldn’t want to shag an archetype?

Since sexual surrender would be ripe

And pregnant with desire,

‘Cause your balls would be on fire...

And I hear that Satyr lives up to his hype.


Apologia Satyrical

Herewith he welcomes you into his parlor,

To pleasure you with poetry profane;

His hard-on hot he’ll hone

And he’ll not leave you alone,

But he’ll drive your little funny-bone insane.

He hopes you’ll have some pleasure from his poems,

Enjoying lusty laughter at his wit,

He’d like to raise your spirit,

Or your crotch, or something near it,

And he’d like to try to tittilate your tit.

He can’t be sure that you will find amusing

The things that make him bust his very gut,

But he’s having fun creating,

Making merriment of mating,

And if you don’t, then what the hell (1 beat pause) so what?


Now, let’s meet Satyr, our host.  These five Satyr poems were written in one weekend.   When an archetype begins to speak, I have no choice but to listen.  Here’s what he had to say.

In searching online for images of Satyr to accompany this page, I found three I felt appropriate and appropriated them, then I asked Wim Griffith for permission to use two of his images, and finally I include one of me, dressed as Puck for a performance, but what the heck?  it’s close enough.

Archetype walks into a bar

And before he has gone very far,

Collective unconscious

Detects twixt his haunches

The thing that has made him a star.

Archaic although he may be,

When he enters the men’s room to pee,

He’s followed by throngs

Of men with their dongs

Unfurled to a shocking degree.