The writings of Hunter Coch

night

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The Invocation

Riding midnight tides

In the red lights of the night

Observing dark rights,

Under the midnight crescent

She dances with the witches,

To blood pumping beats

And the rhythm of sweet dreams,

Invoking spirits

Invite intoxication,

To raise the goddess of lust,

Riding midnight tides

With the dark dance of desire,

Invoking gnosis,

What does the summoning call?

Her deep desires fulfilled.

-Hunter Coch

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Whose Hand

”Whose hand?” in the dark,

”Whose hand?” with a simple touch,

”Whose hand?” gives pleasure.

Whose hand explores in the night?

Mystery brings excitement.

-Hunter Coch


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Stranger Love

She moaned in the ear

Of a beloved stranger,

Bodies pressed in lust.

Goddess in the dark,

She raged at penetration,

Uncontrollably.

And in the heat of

An early morning affair

The white light ignites.

She is goddess between sheets.

She is desires monarch.

-Hunter Coch


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The Woman

The woman, she moves;

Dancing to oblivion

Into the lost nights.

The dance is enlightenment,

Unintentional gnosis.

The woman, she moves;

A ritual dance between

Darkness, light, and life,

Ritual and death, motion,

Inebriated gnosis.

The woman, she moves;

Primal movement, a dark trance,

Writhing ecstasy.

Movement into living death.

Dancing into the gnosis.

The woman, she moves; rapture.

The woman, she moves . . . Gnosis.


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I See

I see a woman
Desperate to keep faith to an
Absent man of war.

I see a lone man
Rejected by a woman
Long lost long ago.

I see a couple
Sitting in a dark corner
Lost in lust and love.

I see the drunkards
Desperate for life
To take them away.

-Hunter Coch

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Premonition

She looked within me
From across the crowded room,
Eyes of lust and steele.
And it was in that moment
I knew what the night would bring.

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Climax

Desire becomes
Lust.
      Hedonistic passions
Climax in the night.

What joy women’s bosoms bring,
What pleasures blossom below.

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The Nature of Night

When the sun goes down
And most of the land dreams deep
There are those that wake,
Some in pleasures deep embrace,
Others alone in torment.

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. . .

Lust and desire

Grow as the evening deepens.

What has the night done?


Sermon

Preaching the word of inebriation,

For they are the living and the lost

Seekers of comfort.

For they shine In the night

Falling when the sun rises.

They are the Wanderers in the streets

Reveling in the shining and radiant filth.

Sipping the sinner’s delight.

The cities twilight.