BMF's Urban Hang Suite

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I found something I wrote ages ago...its Lit like....Should I post? I fear I don't know when its from I wrote it in a notebook(journal) and just now found it...
 
Words dripping like a broken faucet.
Plip...plop...plip.
Drops echoing like thunder through a small room.
Splashing moldy floors,
Leaking through doors
Causing slips, trips, and falls
Stumbles easily avoided.
Floorboards rotting, cracks expanding.
Bowing deeply from the slight pressure
Of soft steps landing.
If only the faucet had been fixed.

Words dressed up in a mini skirt.
Sitting in the corner of the club,
Drinking an appletini,
Showing much love.
Buxom as hell, catching eyes in a net.
Profile like whoa,
Players don't stand a chance.
Choosing her prey, she makes his day.
Until the cruel bitch gives him the itch.
She's been used before, so its all she knows.
Then she reapplies lipstick
Before she gives her next blow.

Words laying in bed beside the woman he loves
Preparing bs, as he gives her a rub.
"It's not you, its me" comes the flash of the bomb
Watching her recoil, pats himself on the back
Then exits with incredible aplomb.
Father, husband, yet boyfriend and lover.
Shattering one world, then building another.
A czar of the worst kind, promising life
Then leaves death, extinguishing the sparks of life.
Serial rapist of the first order.
No borders, no hoarding,
Merely finagling strings.
He's Gepetto.

This is not about sex.
It's not about caresses
Foreplay
Fingertips
Thrusting, pumping, stroking, groping,
Pokers, peckers, pussies gushing
Juices flowing
Erections growing.
It's not physical.
It's not instant gratification.
It's not lust.
It's not my imagination.
It's not my fantasy.

This is about words striking
And piping their way into a fleshy heart
That responds by beating
With increased vigor.
This is about hearts meeting, shying away,
Then meeting in non obvious ways.
Melding quietly, and not noticing
Their extreme proximity
Towards something insanely magical.
This is about the fog lifting
From dual consciousnesses...
Finding two undressed.
Naked and unashamed.
Only feeling to blame the pain of past erased
And the hope of future
Bestowed.

This is about words unspoken,
Yet understood innately
Between people on a single plane of thought.
It's intimacy regarded outside of the norm
It's fetish of more than sexual defining,
Yet, accomplishing fulfillment far beyond any chance encounter.
This isn't a one night stand,
But a multiple nights falling.
Fearful yet fun and freeing.
Not worried, just being.

This is....
Real.


Very good sir. :)
 
This has a story behind it...it was for a friend, I think the poem says it best...

He said he loved her deeply
He wasn’t a man but a boy
Sex was just a game for him
But a baby’s not a toy

Teasing gently playing around
Silently whispering his name
Eyes gently sparkling, lips parting
She didn’t know it was a game

No worries for the night
Nothing would be undone
Tangled hair discarded clothes
The strain of two bodies as one

Awakened in the morning
The sun dancing on her skin
He said he had to leave
She wouldn’t see him again.

Torn, conflicted, and scared
Unsure just where to start
Pondering life’s options
Her baby beneath her heart

The father absent at birth
So much stress and strife
One final push, and cry.
Bringing forth new life.

Mmmmm words that many can relate to....well done SD.
 
Giving this a go:


Free and Easy, Take IV

whispers spar in the presence
of leaves that willow.

time shuffles from day to day,

days coincide to mere whimpers.

my thoughts always return
to the heart of the matter.

if not today, then tomorrow
if yesterday, why not the day before?
 
Drops iPhone*

HolyMotherFuckingShit

Yesterday they were socks, now they're sex on a stick cotton awesomeness..........

*pulls up candy cane ankle socks*

Are these that hot too?


Ok, so seeing so many lively lit ladies in long socks has become an attractive thing for me. Like anything, I'm writing a series about it. Lol. Just indulge me. Here's pt. I.

My mind is in a weird place,
Thoughts in a strange space,
Thinking bout socks...
I wonder,
Can you relate?
Crawling up socks
Gripping what's beneath
Massaging socked feet,
Feeling the fleshly meat
Of calves shaped and sexy.
I can feel my heart beat.
It's pounding out of my chest
Your socked sexy self has me under durress.
Socks rising still,
Revising their feel.
Skin of alabaster
Costumed in a fabric role play.
Enthralled, my vision blurry
In no apparent hurry
Socks have me senseless
Completely defenseless.
Rising to the tops,
Your skin attacks my senses
Eyes wide open, goose bumps
No way to end this.
Thighs in my eyes,
Oh me...how can I win this?
Feeling kind of witless,
Shaking out of my boots,
My lips find their first kiss
Up against you
Mmm...your taste is nice
Matured like fine wine
Fingers shaking like vines up and down
In real time.
I'm...intoxicated, heavily sedated
My drunken revelry leading me
To slightly wettened panties....
 
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