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
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.
kissing a moment past
Fetal position at the bottom of a basket hanging by strings beneath a rainbow balloon full of hot air floating adrift up, UP
UP and AWAY
I want to stay high! In fact, I want the fire to blow me higher!!!
I know fantasy doesn’t last, but the only time I feel my heart beat is kissing a moment past.
That ‘P’ Word
It’s that ‘P‘ word that eludes me lately.
I search each day for that ‘P‘ in my memory, dressed as the lovely lit up ghost of a childhood friend, who began teasing me when I was ten, always up to have some fun, and Oh, how hot I got when that ‘P‘ came around!
It’s that ‘P‘ that proved to be my rock when nothing else helped, and I’ve hidden that ‘P‘ deep within me, a fire always burning up my shadows, stroking gently my ego, no matterhowlow I go.
Then, one day I tried to coerce that ‘P‘ to come, Please…I plead, Come home. Weeks of searching, but NOTHING CAME! That ‘P‘ was gone…I knew…
I really was alone.
I wondered: Did my big-bad, sad soul swallow that BEAUTIFUL ‘P’ whole to suck on its marrow until it’s gone…as if it was never known???
Fuck NO!
I don’t reside in a metaphor anymore!
That ‘P‘ was never anything but what I want it to be. And, no matter what I do it’s ALWAYS inside me. It’s my PASSION I’m hiding deep, my passion exuding me, it’s passion I want dancing a burning fire up my ass, not the memory of things done gone in the past.
Now, how to TAP THAT PASSION and make it laaast???
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.
A Musing
The grind of incessant chores made less daunting with the pain in my reins, tamed by my intellect eating a moment.
A musing, I go to hopelessly inappropriate thoughts…
I want to
eat you
like cotton candy,
feel your sweetness
melt upon my tongue
so I can
swallow you
into my soul,
keeping you to hold,
sharing words
that fill me whole!
a spell
It’s witchcraft!
Yes! Witchcraft
will bring you back.
I know what
I have to do…
I’ll put a spell on you:
To me you must come
and give me some
desire dined to dessert
for me, you’ll work.
That’s what I’ll do.
I put a spell on you.
Hopelessly Inappropriate Thoughts 