At Least 31 Flavours

Erotic Poetry, Weird Poetry

Drag your tongue across my exhalations

And taste the way you agitate me —

I have a different flavour for every time I’ve writhed —

At least 31 of them…

And counting.

I’m basically an ice cream parlour

But with more nuanced flavour profiles

And toppings that always spill and drip and tumble onto the floor.

Sometimes you have to accept a sunk cost just to watch things fall and splatter on the linoleum. It’s worth it just for the upsplashing fudge alone.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** You’re literally writing a poem along to Rick Astley’s [eternal ] “Never Gonna Give You Up”. Have you no shame, woman?!?! ***

***

Or

***

*** Poem-writing companion song completely unintentional… but somehow… just right. ***

~•~•~•~

Photo cred: Google-ramalamadingdong

I can still taste you

Erotic Poetry

I can still taste

The brine of your lust on the insides of my cheeks,

And between my flesh-biting teeth.

I can still feel your dampness on my mane of fire-flecked ebony,

And your spurts of moonsheen between my scratched thighs,

And across my neck,

Like a choker of muted starlight.

I can still smell my petaled love on your honeysweet breath,

And on your wet yielding mouth.

I can still hear your laboured rhythmic whispers beating on my eardrums

As I writhe

And pant

Through every step of my day.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Woke up horny again, Sugar Tits? ***

*** I haven’t even woken up yet…. I’m still making love to my dreams. ***

My Tree Lover

Erotic Poetry, Weird Poetry

My tree lover speaks to me through the sensual susurrus of his branches,

Rustling my dark curly-locked head.

I press my lips into his bark to let his sweet sappy mossy scent enter me

As he closes my eyes.

He gives them to me,

His spent sun-filled leaves,

Letting them fall and gather at my feet

So I can collect them

And keep them under my nightgown

Against my dewdrop skin

Until the full moon’s reflected light fills the sky

And the hollow places in my heart.

They remain there,

His leaves,

Until we can spend our dreams together,

And they disintegrate back into my flesh.

He embraces me with an amber passion

That hangs from my limbs in liquid suspension,

As he caresses me with the deep ridges and roughness of his bark

Which he imprints upon my yielding frame like a lingering kiss —

My softness succumbing to his hardness,

My velvet parts wearing his marks like lace.

When I am far from him,

Floundering in steeled cemented labyrinths,

The breeze carries his fallen leaves back to me.

They land in my nest of hair,

In my mooning wanting thoughts of him.

The wind carries parts of him

Back to me

On the waxy surface of redpinkorange leaves

Pocked with holes, spots, cracks and crazing.

He is no less perfect when he is falling

Than when he is splendouring

In endful summer.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Well then… making out with trees…. That takes the cake, Sweet Cheeks. And… admit it… you found ‘susurrus’ in the Thesaurus. ***

*** If you peeled a layer of my skin from my bones, you would see that I have bark instead of muscle fibre. ***

*** Yes. I discovered it when thesaurusing ‘rustle’… and managed to fit both of them in. ***

*** … Show-off… ***

Rewriting Poems #4: Ghostly Red/Red Ghost Touch

Erotic Poetry, Weird Poetry

I wrote this poem about a little less than 2 years ago. Totally forgot about it, but I remember what inspired it.

I’ll never tell….

Anyhoo, just reimagining it in different words and word arrangements.

~•~•~•~

Original “Ghostly Red” – (01/26/2019):

Spectral sensuality.

Red hot touch.

Scintillation on the cold hard floor.

Unseen hands and slippery fingers find their way inside,

Pulling me through the floor into a velvety void of moans and gasps.

Join me in the aether for an eternal moment.

~•~•~•~

Rewrite: “Red Ghost Touch”

A scarlet spectre stands silent in the corner

As I sizzle like ants on the mid-July pavement

Under the seething glare of a magnifying glass,

All contortion and arching back,

And shuddering from your invisible red ghost touch

That I can sense in my own grovelling and grasping hands.

I can feel you watching,

Willing my own fingers into slippery parts of me

That drip love and aether.

I didn’t even feel the floor fall out from under me

When you thrusted your eternal moment into mine.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Do you see dead people, Sweet Cheeks? Sounds like you see dead people…. Just sayin’…. ***

*** I don’t know what I see or feel sometimes, but whatever it is, it sure as fuck isn’t dead. ***

Onomatopoeia… or… “UNF”

Erotic Poetry

i love it when our words fuck each other

when our words break down into glottal stops, gutteral howls, and sharp inhaled breaths

for days and days and days and days, with no end in sight

just one juice-soaked word after another out of you and thrusted into me

pushing my limits and extracting my filthiest fucking phrases

like shimmering strings of salacious secrets that you can wrap at first delicately… then forcefully… around my throat

yeah… you already knew i liked that

i’m sure you could tell from the bruising i wear like necklaces

and the way my eyes follow anyone with strong masculine hands

your slippery tongue and dirty lip-licking mouth lubricate my own

as you rasp your need into my ear, into the bowl of lust overflowing from my insides

jesus fuuuhhh… you always know how to take my words and feed them back to me,

my own utterings dripping out onto my tongue in phonemic moans and end-punctuated groans

if you keep wording me like this

i might drown you in wholly capitalized sentences and an obnoxious array of exclamation points

right before the denouement of our climax

and with our smut-soaked sentence-making we will redefine

onomatopoeia

with sounds that just can’t be spelled

~~~

❤👽xoxox👽❤

~~~

***Feeling animal today….***

Eternity Dances (Whispers)

Erotic Poetry

Eternity dances (the undulations and ululations of our bodies and vocal resonance in the aether, helixed in dampening bedsheets at moonset)

Across the tip of my tongue (your hips like ocean waves above me and I am drowning in you)

Atop the domes of my sky-misted eyes (you are all I can see save for the gods clawing for me with your hands)

Like my wanton lips (my lips swollen red with your lust)

Across the peachy down of your belly (I could lie my head here forever and believe your scent is the only one I know and ever will)

Like your intoxicating honey (the words stop here and sense melts between your burning thighs, in my fire hands, in my open receiving mouth)

Sliding down my throat (I want you)

Like your moans (symphonic orgasms fill my mouth, fill your mouth, and drip down our chins)

Into my lust-laced ears (sounds of us tangled in our hair, biting tender earlobes and drawing your blood from my pulse)

Like my fingers (ours)

Slipping deep into you (and you and you and me and holy reverent angel you)

My eternal obsession (I will never be the same after you and neither will you)

~~~

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

~~~

Bone Book

Erotic Poetry

I am a book written in my bones.

If you crack them open, you can taste the story of my double-helixed soul.

But only when you extract my marrow with your tongue,

Slurping it all onto your palette,

Rolling it over in your mouth,

Letting to slide down your throat,

Rather than merely waiting

For it to drip out

And splatter into a bowl.

You have to

Come

Deep inside

To get at the most nectarous parts,

The parts that ooze ambrosial mystery.

Push yourself into me,

And consume the stories branded inside my bones.

~~~

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

~~~

Succumbing on a Loveseat

Erotic Poetry

I was lounging on the wicker loveseat on my balcony

Last evening

Watching the sky bluepurplepinken

After the sun had dropped his head to slumber beneath the horizon.

An airplane passed overhead,

The roar of the engine momentarily cancelling out the raucous rush of vehicles on the highway below.

I ran my bare foot along the contour of a waxy canna lily leaf,

Closing my eyes to savour the cool sensation upon my skin and across the tips of my red-painted toes.

It made me summon you,

Especially your lips, your tongue, your teeth

Along the edges of my foot

And the edges of where my self-control succumbs to the complete retirement of self

Then I imagined your hand

Surging up the length of my thigh,

And I turned my head to bite the pillow.

~~~

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

~~~

***Mmm… lushness is running up my fevered limbs days and days after this reverie….***

Immaterial

Weird Poetry

I saw you standing there

Like an immaterial sentinel

Between the spores of dust and the empty space upon which they were strewn.

But you appeared more present and tangible than the rocks and trees

Beyond the windowpane

Through which the sun dappled and danced

And tried without success to bathe you

In lacklustre light.

But your light is brighter than the sun

And the dog sun that shines even brighter still (but without the notice of humans).

So much so

That you turned the sunshine

Into shadow

Just by standing there

Watching me.

~~~

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

~~~

Abandon

Erotic Poetry

I want to bleed into your veins

And be the writhing in your body

As you arch your back

And leave your bones.

I want to breathe into your lungs

And become the air that escapes

When you call out

For me

From the deep of the dream void.

I want to be the moan upon your eros-kissed lips

As you reach out through the gloom

To find me there

Standing behind the veil

That only seems like separation.

I want to be the abandon in your fevered eyes,

And the tongue-lash across your sweet throbbing throat,

As you run your fingers through my hair

And through the phrases caught in my webbed thoughts.

I want to be the claw and nail

That sinks into your skin

As you roll your eyes

Towards our burning heaven.

~~~

👽❤❤👽

~~~

Milk Oolong Tea

Erotic Poetry

Smooth (hands running up your body, rolling over your heaving ribs, the skin of your neck right below your left ear)

Floral (the scent of your love on my upper lip, on my fingers, on my everything, hanging on the air like a canopy of bruised roses)

Steaming (it’s 2:11 a.m. and no one else is awake except for us and only I get to hear you moan)

Creamy (the secrets between your thighs spilling over, pouring out, drenching me in the privateness of you)

Milk (sip)

Oolong (sip)

Tea (swallow)

~~~

❤👽👽❤

~~~

Whispers

Erotic Poetry

I feel your whispers between my legs,

Against the gauzy material hiding my pulsating jewel,

Against the outer curves of my quivering thighs,

All along the flaring lines of my gyrating hips.

I feel your whispers there,

And your saliva

Pooling at the dip of my waist

And the mouth of my pussy.

Pull the lace away from my dripping cavern,

And lick me until you’ve made me

Fall apart

Before your adoring eyes

And gaping mouth.

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

Expansion

Erotic Poetry

As I lie patiently in wait,

For happenings unknown

But sensed in every cell of my body,

Secret hidden parts contract and expand,

Like a star finally given over to its inevitable death.

The air is thick with violent evolution

And feels like a soaked wool blanket

Covering my still body,

Which writhes and pulsates beneath my confining spacesuit of skin.

I cannot bring myself to move,

For unseen parts are shifting and evolving,

Exploding like blinding supernovas

Within my every molecule.

The heat and force of the remnant pulsar

Beats like a drum

Between my quaking legs,

And I am powerless to stop the double beams of electomagnetic radiation

Blasting out from my core

And into empty space through my root and crown.

~~~

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

Write Me

Erotic Poetry

Plunge your voice into me,

Penetrate me with your verbs,

And all of the tainted musings sullying your thoughts.

Stab my heart with salacious soliloquies,

Spank me with stinging sentences,

And make me bend beneath the power of your wanton words.

Brand me with your poetry,

As I drip

And flood

And spray,

Leaving behind a damp trail

Of voraciously lustful verses

Written by you

But published within me.

~~~

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

Headless

Uncategorized

I still feel your heated and hushed words against my dew-licked skin.

Flame-scorched whisperings that blow cold the burning beads of sweat curling down the dreamscape of my body,

Sending chills up and down my spine,

And right into the living marrow of my ghostwhite bones.

There is no place for a mind in times like this,

No place for thought,

For sense,

No place for doubt,

Or for time;

We exist on a timeless, senseless plane,

And I am content to abandon the density of this earth for the Light

Of a higher realm.

I lost my head the moment you opened your mouth upon me,

And fed your utterings and divine growlings into my soul.

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤