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all of a sudden passion suddenly

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nothing is better than
a curvy woman
with dew drop lips
and thick hips
hardened tips
sucking my big chocolate dick
strapped between my thighs
hovering right below her eyes
I am mesmerized
as she licks
this prick
slick
twisting around it’s bobbing head
one way then the next
thinking me sexed
as my fingers grasp
and thread
her full bodied locks
as she sucks this cock
and I wonder
if she likes the taste of her
as much as I do
and then I don’t care
because I want her
like this is my real cock
and I am every man she’s ever
dreamed of
starting with her dark daddy secret
I make her call me that
when I bend her over
this plush bed
and make her beg
for more
when I thrust
through her trust
fucking her ideals
like she’s my last meal
and I need her to live
 
make me

you dont make do me
anything
i want and i do
what i want

you dont make me
anything
i am what i want
and i want what
i am


but no denying it
your pull and color
approach a force
irresistable
and i am not
an unmovable object

under your pen
under your pin
the things i want
the things i am

blur beneath your needs
leaving me on my knees

trying to remember,
you do not make me
you did not make me
it is my will
i am self created

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
please forgive me 03SP I did backspace two or three times
to make my words actually mean something
but it is so dark in here
and my keyboard is not glowing
the moon is on the other side of the house
my fingers misaligned on the keys
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
would you pull that crap with Annette?

want to be
on the inside
of your inside jokes

want to be
the only one
who understands





the real meaning of your poetry


want to stop turning my head
saying is that her
is that her?
or, maybe not

knowing you
must want to stop looking
side to side
is that him
that bastard

"keep your filthy paws
off my silky drawers"


at least our necks
will remain well stretched
when we meet
looking straight
at each other

when no one else exists
except you (whoever that is)
and me (whoever that is)
and the line of toys
we interview
for our pleasure
 
I could love the sad girl
with poems in her mouth
and eyes that sparkle
with crystal'd snow flakes
and sparkles
of her lost lil girl laughter

I could kiss the sad girl
taste her words and swallow
the pain she tries so hard
to hide

sad girl, dont you know?

you aren't alone
I can be sad too, if it would help
I could hold you and make
you warm and I could
treasure you from so far
away

with your sadness
mellowed with your smile
you keep tucked away inside

your pain is understood
and I would love to love you
sad girl, if I could
 
she played a mysterious violin
and had patches on her pants-
she swore to god, up and down
that she was just a child of chance.

and the man from Sudan
repeatedly fell asleep at the wheel
and at dawn i felt mighty lucky
when my feet i did feel.

Rogue river valley
i damn near stayed
but i road the hound back thru Bend
and walked for years to today.





:heart:
 
This hand that sets
my life in ink.
This hand
that shuts the door.
This hand will open,
fingers hinged like flower stalks
and play the black notes only.

Minor keys with major
impact on your ear.
Smiling all the while
into your soul.
 
those crow parts
werent feet
but instead
jungle feathers
and they ruffled
in the prez wind
but all i could
keep my eyes
on
were those long arms
and delicate fingers.
 
i cannot give you what you need

the shake machine
is not working

no, we are
no wendys

and no
you can't drop
off your shirts here
to be cleaned

behind
the second window
is not a bank teller
or a fortune teller
or a starbucks counter
espresso or foam

i can not give you what you need

do you need anything i can give?
i have so much
that wants to be yours
 
Your fingers
Find mine,
And join us,
Together,
Touching,
For the first time.

A fragile
Connection
Of possibility.
 
Had to laugh

Grandpa sits in his grumbling chair
Muttering at the television
Talking about what might have beens
And what used to bes

The Game move on
At a commercial-filled pace
Grandpa nods
Missing a score or two.

Half-Time brings a myriad of nothingness
Grandpa’s lip snarls
At typical young foolishness
Until a brown breast bares

Grandma frowns her stern disapproval
Mom punches Dad as he hides his smile.
The old man cackles, almost breathless
Laughing at the sight of a “gold-tipped tittie.”

Enough excitement for the grumpy old man
Sleeps through the second half
But still liking those titties
Firm and bare.
 
she writes in experimental peaches
softly sprinkling succulent squish
and I wish
this weren't so obvious

just observational poetry
silent spattered syllables
and we quibble
over cheese

please,
see some simple sanity
our vanity
through words on a page
 
hollow out

he is gone
again
and that hollow
he alone creates
in me
screams to be
euthanised

a place, set aside
in my heart for him
and I expect
he will remain
out of sight
but on my mind

his aggravating games
unbecoming
unproductive
unwelcome in my life
now, finally

ability to grow
a shell
where he is concerned
is pro-active
preferred
probably best
for us both

no actual desire
exists
for me to ever be
open, again
naive, again-
never, or at least
until tomorrow,
I prefer my
own neurotic company
to his narcissistic angst
 
by the way


you talk a good game
say way too many things
but remember-
insertion of thesaurus
up...your...ass
will not make you
a scholar

words are good things
fine inventions
couriers of thought,
sometimes intent

consider these odd
contributions-

twisted, twisting
silly-string cheerleaders,
dancing queens
with jiggle-y things,
essentially protruding

sensuality exuding
orifices, holes
if you prefer
emitting profane levels
of profundity,
honorific horni-tude
for your delicate
female form

your pheromones have
a life of their own,
they beg obscene actions
but lacking adequate words
your description
is visual at best,

and regal above
your lovely breasts,
slender, ivory
nape of neck
beckons,
your nectar
and sight of you
tickles my tongue
 
Thermodynamicists in Heat

Walk into a bar, what do ya see?
Sweet young thing loaded with enthalpy.
Carnot cycle kicks in gear.
Steam starts pouring out your ear.

“Won’t ya take a chance with me?
Can’t ya feel the chemistry?”

“Silly boy! Would I want that?
It’ll only disturb my quantum cat.
Five minutes ‘tween the sheets with me
You’d just be softening entropy.”
 
suddenly the world shrank
slumbering snow fell
postcard spectacular
styrofoam popcorn dampness
into every square feet
pouring sweet stillness
like cotton wool
around the regular
acoustics of everyday
aspalt and audio abuse

and in the middle
of city and chaos
I could suddenly hear
the gritty groaning
compressing song
under my feet
once again
 
a little bit louder
a little bit longer

deeper
stronger
faster
filling

demanding
I want more
 
they say I'm contagious
that I got a fever
that it flows through your veins
giving you pains
or at least an inconsistent beat
and the heat
it pools
between your thighs

I can hear your sick sighs
that cough to gain my attention
just one mention
of my particular brand of cure
will lure
you back
to my sick bed

get it through your head
I'm contagious
they said
but it doesn't last,
cause baby, you heal too fast
 
word drop

I sliced Webster
with an exacto knife
ninety degree angled cuts
gave me more than enough verbs
and I threw them in the air
letting them swirl around me
like confetti in a snow globe

I tasted a few on the tip of my tongue
tried to consume the essence of each one
but these snowflakes are all different
they fall fast and I'm covered
in phonetic inches
laughing cause it's a snow day
and I have to shovel
 
she says I have a sexy little muscle
right there
especially when I flex
and I immediately thought of you
blushing
 
ummm

Lay languid
across my chest
and I'll use you
for a warm up
bench press

that is
until we get down
to business:

it seems
you like to straddle
the balance beam

and call out
the cadence reps
as I sit up
over and over
to touch
my straining tongue
to your sweaty
stiff nipples.
 
my rain man mentality
watches mesmerised
the impossible ways
she curve that
corpus canvas
impossible mold

alabaster in my eyes
quicksand in my hands
geometry in my mind

clicks notion into
a hypercharged
hypotenuse theory

maybe there still is
another angle
one tiny spot
yet unloved
for me to discover

maybe in the tangent
between an elevated
nipple liptrace glittering
and it's rounded throne
is the key to that high

maybe lost
in the overlap of her
solar plexus circle
and dented torso
trapezoid dream

a tiny triangle
untasted

or maybe

just maybe
my overanalytic
hyperbolic mind
will just finally
shut up

and dive
 
a dial up dilemma

a dial-up dilemma

I only have one line!!
I need to cum, I want to squirt
gallons of my love juice
aimed straight for your face

how is a woman supposed to choose?
sexy sleazy bitches getting butt fucked
with 2 foot long monster cock dildos
up ass, in face, threats with glistening
tips of nimble tongues, or

dulcet tones of calming voice,
audible aching, hands are shaking
lust becomes waves through telephone

Oh baby, come in my ear, I’m here, I hear
your body throbbing from far away,
almost next to mine
but I only have one line!
so would you? could you?
hold that thought, I need a pic
to get me off...

( luv ya MR)
 
I'm not a twelve hour kind of woman
but I was a thirty-six hour kind of girl
see, I was getting to know myself then
now, I just don't want to be around
anyone for that long

well, for you I'd make an exception
maybe it's because I'll be different
or spectacularly myself
when I'm with you for any length
of time or position
 
I'm almost done with you
after three years
constantly
writhing through my brain
like a sex train
all heavy plaits
and red patent leather
wondering whether
this would be the year
impaled on the notes
of a japanese flute
you show yourself
completed
 
the sky folded
tonight
and the clamp
of the stars
jolted me awake
when all i wanted
to do
was
keep dreaming....
 
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