I watch the gloaming
of my years
March on, march on
In spite of fears

These passing days 
Like big-horse-clouds
She/he, my Soul
So onward steers

Oh, strike the thought,
like suicide
That I must stop
My thick oil glide

My dancing hands
On strange men’s breasts
To cease release
Breeds foul duress!

Sensual working
Man-made hours
Soothing muscles cherish
Making smiles from glowers

The tune I dance to
As it plays
The love I sell
Though never stays

For in sweet cream
There is a trust
To lubricate
Prevents the rust

And lust is all
But nothing more
Than fleeting sun rays
on the floor

Oh how lustrous
Were my smiles
How rapturous
My tears...

To watch the gloaming
of my days
March on, march on
In spite of fears

In passing time 
Like big-horse-clouds
She/he, my Soul
Much closer, nears

#queerpoet #nycqueerpoet #queerunderground #saintorr #nycmasseur #steveorwhat #stevenorrwriter #fabulousfaggotry
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No Final Solution 4-18-21

Dedicated to that bullying neighbor
Everyone’s afraid of...

Oh alligator litigator
Just one small bullet
Between your ugly eyes
Would definitely fix
All the problems 
That you being you comprise

But what about
The next stinking, ugly, reptilian man
Who poses a threat?
And the next and the next?
It’s all the work I’d have to do
More than the serial killing
I’d regret.

Do I even have enough bullets?
Could I tell enough lies
Or keep track
Of all my shady alibis?

Couldn’t live with the guilt
Of troubling sins like spies.
Haunting my freedom
Even behind closed eyes.

I know life well,
There’s no fast fix
Through suffering’s hell
And bastards
They will always 
Try to tear you down

Nix the murder solution
I’d rather choose evolution
And keep on being
That hunky, for-hire

#nycmasseur #saintorr #queerolderpoets #queerolderwriters #steveorwhat #stevenorr #fabulousfaggotry
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The Tragedy of the Atlanta 8

Please watch my video “On Being Queer Bashed” which I did a few years ago about my experience of being attacked on a New York city street by three Latin Teenagers during the “reign” of Mayor David Dinkins in the early 90’s.

Whenever we “act out” as humankind on other humans whether it is inconsiderate behavior (not showing up for an appointment, theft, etc.) or violent acting out, we hurt ourselves as a family. May the souls of those lovely people who died by the hands of an ignorant, lost boy rest in peace. And may we as bodyworkers and clients alike take a moment to at least try to forgive that 21 year-old “addict’ in his act of insane, nonsensical vengeance. Amen.

As the world begins to become alive again, I am witnessing behavior by clients that in some ways makes me ashamed for them. It is one thing to cherish and to hold dear and it is quite another to obsess, to need to control and to expect certain actions (without an open and honest discussion of what we both want to happen in a session in person).

Massage is a healing, lovely experience. And the best way to enjoy it is to give UP your preconceived notions and expectations of what will happen in a session. If we force things on each other, how can that beautiful seed of touch and pleasure, bloom to its fullest extent?

Also I highly advice other practitioners to follow my lead and always keep a weapon (Mace, a Taser, a blunt instrument) handy, just in case. This is plain common sense. Desperate times inspire people to do desperate unmindful things. You may buy Mace at Target (it IS legal to carry in N.Y. State; order online and pick-up at any store). Also small but sharp knives can be concealed easily (my straight husband/room mate carries three) at all times.

Be careful, be aware and do NOT fall asleep at the wheel. It only takes a moment of hate, stupidity (intentional or accidental) to change the entire course of a person’s life.

Love yourself fiercely!



#saintorr #stevenorr #nycmasseur #steveorwhat #fabulousfaggotry

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Dedicated to the Atlanta 8

The world is sad today
For this rape of night flowers.
No gun empowers’it
Just takes sisters away

No more no more
I wanna scream to the sun
For the healers and the martyrs
and the innocence undone

No more, no more
God deliver us from evil
Why can’t we live let live?
Gonna build me a steeple

A monument for all 
Tainted angels fallen
A denouement for all
unsung voices of people

The world is sad today
For this rape of night flowers.
No gun empowers’it
Just takes sisters away

#saintorr #nycmasseur #stevenorr #steveorwhat #fabulousfaggotry

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 We beat it so well
 Our gypsy dance song
 Your hairy loins
 I rub upon
 Here and gone
 Here and gone
 We are older men
 With our straining and complaining
 Why can’t we make
 The moments of pleasure raining
 Be the gold remaining?
 After the touching
 In absentia of shaming
 'Tis the nature of life
 To release the body, the skin
 To let go the outside
 then again
 Retreat and hide
 We beat it so well
 Our gypsy dance song
 Your hairy loins
 I could rest
 My head upon
 My weary 
 Head upon
 Rest my weary
 head upon
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Grackles Afternoon*

2-17-21 by Saintorr

*This poem is actually about starlings
but I prefer the name grackles as it’s
much more fun

The grackles are out today
Feedazzling, fairying
Dirty wings foraging
In the winter sun
Feeding on the trash
Owing nothing to nobody
Chatter song
Pop, chirp wriggle
To no one
No one

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Bottom to Bottom

2-17-21 by Saintorr

 Both being bottoms
 Our signals get crossed
 We parlay and retreat
 Trade off “being boss”
 Like kids playing
 In the snow
 We fall on each other 
 Our own days together
 Come and go
 Come and go
 When you’re gone
 I self-satiate
 You have your wife
 Me with my clients
 Using touch I medicate
 Later, look out--watch the children
 With their dogs at play
 Kicking up snow
 In little bullies’ fray
 I am my own master
 Up on the roof
 Witness to clouds 
 Static gray ticks
 Witness to children
 Building snow boulders
 To sit upon
 As kings with sticks
 Bottom on bottom
 Snow days come and go
 COVID fear
 Cannot discourage
 Our touch heal
 Sex flow
 Bottom to bottom
 I crave you to breed
 But these words 
 Of manly love for you
 Never will you read. 

#saintorr #nycmasseur #stevenorr #fabulousfaggotry #queerpoetry
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SEASONS OF LOVE c. 2021 by Saintorr

I used to cruise
the park at night.
Now I sing my hunger
into a mic, a screen,
the online void
inviting men
via my android

Day or night
if there's work to do
I ask my room mate 
to leave for an hour or two
He never minds
just appears 
a little more tired
and worn out from his grind
his own and mine
his own and mine

Living the life
of a pirate's touch
I do, I guess
feed feelings
then cull them into
a warm creamy mess
on belly, legs, arm
and chest

Shooting from loins
In a heated daze
we digress
to the ecstasy's over phase
Back to flatlined emotion
from a love potion
to the wiping up mess

Oh the men
they go and come
and off the table 
they roll
without a word
except a request
a towel to wipe the mess

After the craven ecstasy
of oiled hands
bodies opening to touch
fingers, forearms, loins, breast

I used to cruise
the park at night.
Now I sing my hunger
into a mic, a screen,
the online void
inviting men
via my android

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My Ideal Reader

  1. How does the age and gender of the reader effect the topics that I want to talk about?
  2. Do the topics I want to talk about have to do with a particular location or does the geographic location of the reader effect the topics that I want to talk about?
  3. Does the family status or occupation of the reader pertain to the topics that I want to talk about in my blog?
  4. Do the hobbies of the reader have an impact on the topics of my blog?
  5. What’s the main focus of my blog for the reader?
  1. Age, and gender don’t necessarily effect any thing I want to talk about. I would prefer that my reading audience be close to my age, 50’s or 60’s and that they be queer. You can take that to include all the LGBTQ groups and sub-groups and you can take the Q to mean queer or questioning. Also, I tend to write very much for myself not FOR other people. Just saying.
  2. The topics are more like chapters or posts of either feelings, reflections (more akin to diary entries) or wholly formed stories OR even ideas for stories. Many of my gut feelings are reflective of being a New Yorker, living through a pandemic, being a M4M masseur/bodyworker and being an elder. I am 66. I have living through Katrina, Sandy, 9-11, a gay-bashing and myriads of client and life experiences. So I think I have something to say about surviving, especially surviving catastrophic events! So I would suppose that many topics–in the sense that the topics are diary entries are related to where I am and how I live. Poems that I write and post are more related to dreams, feelings or maybe a prosody I feel in a particular line that I may write (and/or hear the music in my head to go with the words) with or without music and a melody. The geographic location of my reader is a moot point. I would more hope that the content and entertainment value of posts draw the reader to me; rather than me even reflecting, “well, I wonder what that str8t couple living in Montana would like me to talk about in a post today? The mere idea of that invites hard-core fatigue! And would seem to defeat the purpose of my writing.
  3. Yes, definitely. If I happen to attract M4M bodyworkers as readers, (practitioners or clients) then partially I have fulfilled my purpose of writing some posts specifically related to my work and sharing and connecting. How fabulous to reach out and form connections and a voice. Too often in the M4M massage world, the voice that expresses the feelings is silenced by other men. Also, I am aware that as a living entity “massage” is more of an experiential thing than an interesting subject to blog about. How often were you at a party and you said “Oh I just had this fabulous massage.” I mean, talk about a dead end topic. What CAN one say? As a matter of fact, writing only about M4M massage indeed sometimes is even boring to me! When that happens I wonder if anyone would be interested in anything I’m writing that only has to do with all things M4M massage-related? Or I better do my best to make my “story” a damn lot more exciting than a good massage–which, if done well–can put a body to sleep. Not exactly a stolid goal when writing a blog. But, (sound of being catty here) many blogs I’m beginning to read DO put me to sleep! So that gets me to thinking “How can mine be more interesting than those?” In this beginning foray into the blog world it does seems a lot like many of us so-called “writers” are basically wanking off. Sorry to say but true. If someone has nothing to say, then why on earth are you writing or saying it? Further why am I wasting time reading it? I don’t, I hope.
  4. The hobbies of my reader(?) Well, I guess if he is a massage client. But then that’s more of a service than a hobby. This point isn’t really relevant to me now. Even the word hobby has such negative connotations. I cook, I work-out, I knit. Can I share my recipes, my routine or my stitching plan with you? Good Golly Miss Molly I hope to heaven not.
  5. The focus of my blog, diary entries or stories–I would hope serve the purpose of connecting to an audience of–Ew, I’ll say it–like minded individuals–so that eventually I find a like-minded tribe of writers who happen to deal with many of the issues I deal with–or others with bizarre imaginations–who try to “make gold out of shadows” and who write from a queer point of view.

#saintorr #nycmasseur #stevenorr #fabulousfaggotry


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Ode to Sky

c. 2020 by Saintorr

Silken sun rays
Purify me
Refresh sacred self
Empowering, free

In this HIGH sacral space
I rediscover me
up on the roof
Where the hawk flies free

Here leave behind trolls
Natty nowhere emails
Promises of sex
Devotion derails

Ode to it
Owned it
Boned it on the rooftop
Sold it, souled it
Honed it on the rooftop

Ode to it
Owned it
Boned it on the rooftop
Sold it, souled it
Honed it on the rooftop

I fuck the air
In my gold shadow dance
Let go despair
Embracing romance

I come here again
To find me–the man
Feel that longing to soar
Nurture gold in my hand

I stand here
To know me
again and again
For here burning spear rays
Melt the detours of men

Ode to it
Owned it
Boned it on the rooftop
sold it, souled it
Honed it on the rooftop

I’m just another soul
Another hungry ghost
Sovereign of sky
Letting go, to coast

Here touch me happy
Here touch me dream
In Infinite air
Riding jet steam

Writing sky ode
releasing my load
Moving hips elevate
Into weightless cloud mode

Sacred rays melting  memes
Refreshing myself
Awaking my mind
Evolving light dreams

SILKen sun rays
Purify me
I, King of the sky
Empowering, free

Ode to it
Owned it
Boned it on the rooftop
Sold it, souled it
Honed it on the rooftop

Ode to it
Owned it
boned it on the rooftop
Sold it, souled it
Honed it on the rooftop

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