I have a pickle. It’s not an ordinary pickle. Yes, it’s long and hard. Of course, it’s bumpy and green. But, my pickle smells funky, like a skunk dancing with a flower in the rain. Cradled in the palm if my left hand, a pointer-push to gently plug the tip’s hole…empty, the shaft waits…Until, from a right-hand flicker, the flame ignites, and I suck a mouthful of a gracious spirit through my pickle, filling my soul to maintain a smile, alone with my Sunday friend, the only one who always leaves me satisfied in the end.
erotic poetry
Merging Metaphors
Fighting a war with my impulses now You’ve inspired me again. My muse, You win. I’ve lost control, sniff-licking the phone-mirror as if to inhale You like pink crystal meth, I have to catch my breath…
For days, You bounce dream to dream (even while I’m serving ice cream), tingles from You become part of everything!!That’s why talking to You terrifies me…
Love, as You may know by now,
Ok so yeeessss!!! Ridiculous, right. Living loving my dream life. God, you make my eyes smile as my heart dances with a double-beat.
Then, a mid-day snack with my nap, dreamt by surprise when at noon my body collapsed: Unbeknownst to me, you arrive through a halo-appearance, like on some Next Gen episode, and as our eyes lock, you begin to walk to where I sit, then, bending your erect, long body down to this broken frame, your one hand cradles the left side of my face, your arm encircles my shoulders, and you whisper, “Hello.” Every pair of eyes in the room, suddenly gone, as I glide the back of my fingers down both of your cheeks with a direct stare into your gentle gaze never letting go…while you lean your lips upon mine, allowing me to taste every inch of you as I re-learn to give in, to invite the good feeling to actually pervade, trusting the end result is a love I didn’t have before, loving myself more…
(Honestly, me bubbling with mirth??? Absurd. So, here I am, on a sunny day after a horny-little cold-cry at a firey–joy from the hot image of your lips wet by mine…I know I’d love to lose control if I were to see you again in real life. Not that it matters, for you are more beautiful than someone this hopelessly inappropriate could ever deserve. Is it wrong to plead with hyperbolic intention, “Please, hear my words, I’d do anything to feel our metaphors merge.”)
Off to make rainbows 🌈
proclivity
My proclivity
eats my sanity,
to the point
I want to scream.
I feel a little devil within.
He tells me things!
It’s true! Naughty ones
between me and you,
lips rambling truth
plant together lovers
engaged in passion:
tickles, licks, nibbles
necks, chests, legs
down, up, back
slide, slippery wet
bouncing high
a fuck-fabulous
bed-banging ride
again and again
in and out, walls hot
oh, Oh, OH! I mount,
hard-cocked relief
pounding, moaning
I become a beast
sex-starved too long
I want more!
I want to do wrong!
Please, drill my core!
Fantasies whispered
only to me, we try
everything you need,
I fulfill YOUR dreams…
Inspiration: E.E. Cummings
The first poet who got my goat and really made me want to teach and write with a different kind of poetry is E.E. Cummings.
Years ago, I bought myself a small book called erotic poems e.e. cummings to spark some needed inspiration, but failed to find a spark let alone a flame of spark to build the desire.
For the first time I opened it today, needing out of my head in a big way, looking for inspiration that isn’t…Anyway, this is honestly the very first poem I read:
flowing white
I want to lick the full moon, let it’s light flowing white, drip sips into my mouth open wide…How I love you perched hard ‘n’ high! Shower me with your power and make me come alive.
Lick the Moon
I want to lick
the full moon,
let it’s light,
flowing white,
drip sips
into my mouth
open wide…
How I love
you perched
hard ‘n’ high!
Shower me
with your power
and make me
come alive.
The Swoon
The swoon:
meeting your eyes
across the room…
oh my swoon,
my chest
like a balloon
enlarging
as you come
closer, sauntering
in my direction
with determination
for further erection
of our firey connection…
Oh my swoon!!! You.
Dark my thirst
to drink you in,
stripped of all
inhibitions!
I stare still.
In your eyes
I HAVE TO DIVE.
Youthful Yearning
Youthful yearning keeps churning for just a fistful of your energy, fondling my muscles to move, kneading my ass to shake, squeezing me to twist ‘n’ shout “OH, YES!” real loud as you make my earth quake.
A reflection
Your words
that voice
warmed
frigid fingers
to flicker light
in the dark
alone
to write:
Your face
that smile
pops up
head pulsing
stimulation
tickle-pricking
pure pleasure
to shout out
a showering
EXALTATION!
For a moment,
IÂ FEEL POWER!
Awe
Awe tastes like coffee,
steamy-hot ‘n’ smoothe
as I swallow a good gulp
Awe slips down the throat,
and with a pump to the gut
rumbling the insides up,
giving a swift kick of giddy
A rocket to the flaccid brain.
Awe is trigger addictive
to someone like me,
turning darkness to light,
I drink morning to night.
Hopelessly Inappropriate Thoughts 