A Poem About Sex (Must be over 18 to read below)

The other day my email to text conversation with R went like this:
Me: I like to write poems… about sex.
Me: Below is another one I wrote just now because I am horny.  And poetic.

 

The twist and turns, the fabric burns
Of limbs and skin and fluids churn
Out sticky cream; it hurts, it seems
that this pain is what i yearned in dreams.

 

The musk of tuffs, of smothered hair
of smell it permeates our air
It tears, your tongue, my swollen tip
Your grip, I trip, grab both my wrists

 

I’ll scream it out, out loud your name
I’ll whimper softly as I came
Again, once more, this faucet leaks
Eyes rolled, fluttered white to every squeeze

 

Exploding then, both flushed and red
Scratched back, bruised lips, a soiled bed
The cuddling is but only short lived, a Ruse
A simple pause before impending round Two.
————————————————-

R’s response through text:

“I saw your email.
And read your poem.
My big dick and balls.
You’d like to know ’em.”

 

———————————–
Yep.  It’s exactly what you think it is.


I want to thank you for consistently activating your decency.

When, really, it’s much more simple to do what’s easy.

To voice skepticism after scorn and encourage a “come on’ “, to push onto me a jaded reality.

How ubiquitous it is of the unfaithful, how prevalent the existence of a much crueler society.

An easy emotional manipulation hiding under the sheep’s skin of a farce worldly protection.

To inject real emotion brings about an almost necessary type of caring.

Accomplished by an imagination strong enough to procure your empathy.

This empathy tugs at my heartstrings and the passion echoes – so loudly.

That spreading sound is what’s helping.

Maintaining

my own decency.  My own sanity.

Decency

Decency


Another poem I wrote in the past.  I realize none of my poems are searchable while they are on facebook.  At least you can search for them here.

Blurry

Opaque the vague background behind us;
suddenly they’re inconsequential,
Not a drop of preponderance to their eyeful.

Unassuming audiences made blurry like rapid motion pasted on Polaroid
dismissed as easily as ambiance noise to the blackness of pheromones
surrounded yet still demanding reassurances of my company,
you bury your nose against the softness of cashmere, leaking
fervently strands of my midnight dyed hair.

Impetus, almost violent clarity shining light on our indifference
of this public display of seduction.
Singles gasp with indignant disdain, their dismay at our ludicrous display
dubbed ignorance.
Demanding sympathy in chastise, provoking
our movement towards private down sheets;
welding curtains protective for their short lived shielding.

Let it be witnessed my blushed red bosom from wanted constrictive embraces,
my lashes curled naturally, pressed against the pores of your crow lines.
Let it be admissible each bruise caused by our unabashed emotion,
Locked tight our lips, promoting these shocks coursing through each party
as visibly explosive as land mines.

And when ideals escape while the smog seeps in,
the harsh weather reminding
us to be instantly obliging to their societal stories,
to search hastily for our forgotten mores,
…let us not find them


Wrote this in 2008.  But still, it is my favorite.

Black and white Polaroid happiness, I’ll bring out your crinkled noses.
Karaoke blasting to off beat tunes, singing out loud.
Nevermind the booing crowd. This song’s dedicated to you, kid.
Slither your eyes down these curves of mine, I’ll thrust you into oblivion.
With a smirk on my face, twirl me with this hypnotic trance, you set the pace.
There’s glitter to this back and forth, our torque, you suspend me mid-way
Then dip me. With the rose and the thorns clenched, barely, through your teeth. (more…)

Copyright by Passive Income Marathon Inc.