Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5318 Dec 31, 2012
Silent bedroom shuffling
fickle in the air of cooler breath
yesterday was a nightmare
yet this evening promises a much
better daydream
won't you humor me
please proceed:

fasten your high heels
apply that lipstick
text your friends that you're going out
while I wait for you, at home
does your convictions keep you
committed
or do they drive your carnal secrets
will your eyes roam through
the club scene, searching for that new
animalistic thrill
or will you remember your alcohol limit
and catch a cab back, to me ?

prompted patience at three a.m.
a compromise is a compromise
so I shall play the compromised
promising comprehended understanding
towards your need to exceed in your excess
the pleasure of the flesh urges your hunger game
your teeth sinks into the thought of the thrill
my fallen tears evaporate

:: pause ::
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5319 Dec 31, 2012
A pleasant lie told by way of
an intoxicating truth
bodily poems recited in symmetry
torrid passion torn apart by
carefully planted kisses
this dangerous love affair
bathed in bliss
blissfully bathing
the both of us
our private room near the end of the hall
we both have a key
under articulate aliases
no former lifestyles discussed
lure me with your call girl guise
and gyrate in a gesture of praise
love me for the night
forget about the morning
get to know me like a lover's touch
forgiving each other
if we don't remember
each other's names
let's just bask in the ecstasy
of this plentiful
blissful lie
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5320 Dec 31, 2012
Luck would have it,
habits linger
in the midst of admission
that confesses
deep seated dark feelings
she would tell me how she felt
in a heartfelt afternoon,
where sex and liquor
would find us licked up and down
bodily juices exchanged
mind games spoken of tennis theory
(back and forth)
body glistening with fortunate love
gold rush in the form
of dollar stacks
hidden in shoeboxes
a swinger's sex life and clause
sign on the dotted line
swap if you may
a picture perfect personality
personified in hind's display
spread eagle after dark,
lit up with camera phones
both ways swung back and forth
in dual moan and groans
grown up grip and tease,
count the money
slower please
professional business needs
great sex meets for greed
yesterday's balance
equals this evening's
pending expense
love is not an expense....

but let's pretend and spend
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5321 Dec 31, 2012
Check_ Your_ Pulse wrote:
Original
CYP
Standing here before you in all my nakedness my lover
Without shame or blush
I offer up my swollen breasts and the heat of my womanhood
Treat me not the missionary
Scoop me up in your arms and throw me to the bed
Give to me your animalistic energy and I will give you mine
May your teeth break my soft delicate skin while my nails mark your body
Bury your face in my Tulip
As I Moan in my raspy voice do not stop
Until I feel the throbbing
There between my legs
The waves coming over me
Again
And
Again
Until I have released my sweet passion
Straddle yourself over me my love
So that I may kiss you passionately and with wild abandonment
Run my hands across your chest and then your abdomen
Searching madly for your manhood
I find it
Warm
Stiff
Erect
In your playful aggression
Throw me a top you
So I may see your face
Looking into your eyes as you penetrate my womanhood
Still wet and silken
Your fingers closed around my wrists
We begin our rhythmic dance
Giving rise to the urges of our primal needs
Again
And
Again
Dare I say scopare me now
As my lips explore yours
Biting softly then just a bit harder
Movements in unison
Breathe hot and wet
My womanhood screaming
For more
More I say
Screaming all the while scopare me now
Now
I Say
Now
Then I am utterly breathless
Your manhood throbbing
Your seed bursting forth
As I soak you in my sweet passion
Curious kitten, show me your paw print
beware because I'm not the milking type
I'm more the breathing breast man
that licks the remnants of the afterbirth
pregnant in your pause as we provoke passion
don't forget to tempt me with your wiles
while the fireplace in the living room
provides the perfect silhouette
of foreplay, while I fuck you like a porn star
from behind; melting amidst the outline
of your spine as we explode together
regroup and explode once again
swing that red light rendezvous
in my direction, until the morning light
finds us somewhere lost
wandering Swedish roads beyond the lust
beyond the aforementioned love
I love you but I won't tell you until after
I fuck you once more.......
you like it when I do this though
it leaves you dripped like a leaking faucet
gush that beautiful messy gush for me
let my fingers do the talking for my lips
when I'm too spent to shove my swollen promises
back inside of you for the umpteenth time
we don't keep track of time
it's arbitrary in the obituary of our little deaths
climax bleeds orgasms until they are dry
I'm but a vessel for your vaginal wash
so cleanse me well
and drench me in your womanly oceans
drown me in the next life
or perhaps,
tomorrow night ?
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5322 Dec 31, 2012
Such things being said in slurping fashion
I idolized her purring clause
not to be mistaken for other needs provided
she confided in my confidence
while captivated throughout her canal of screams
utilized in fashion that laps about
cervical providence, latent in milked climax
her clenched fingers wrestling about the sofa
while her eyes rolled back, listening to the rhythm
of said forked tongue talent
telling her lies that
only her body translates as truth
it's flattering that I lay in waste
beneath her waist
each line that is spat in circular cadence
continues to coincide with climatic chorus
echoes of her ejaculate, running
drooling down my chin
as I gryate mouth, tongue, and chin
in accordance
she gyrates her hips in slow
motioned dutty wine
looking down, bit lip
glistening face of mine, while I listen
to her shivers in echoing moan
I am bound by her abiding tone
each piercing slurp penetrates
her labia of logic
she becomes my puppet
I project each promise
in the form of a kiss
a kiss that tells her she's the only one,

The Only One in this poem
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5323 Dec 31, 2012
So, she spread in silent fashion
looking back with sarcasm
asking me if I can handle... her
my chuckles disarmed her arrogance
as I ran my hands across her flesh
blessing her every nerves with sensations
that she's yet to feel from another... man
women have touched her the way I'm touching her
but this feeling was so different
because she couldn't discern if I was androgynous
in my approach
I made love to her like a woman would
but as a man should, passionate yet tender
all the while with the thrust of a temptation
that penetrates her pain, provoking more pleasure
than her previous heartbreak
a heartache and climax away from the last hotel
she laid her head in
tears while penning her last love letter to her dark prince
whom slayed her emotions
I couldn't promise that I've save her
but I opted to oblige her with a moment of .bliss.
her eyes revealed that she yearned for love
just as my eyes did to her
but I hid that fact from her, in the cover of darkness
a splash of cornered light dazzled her frame
... I pause... as I ...gasp... and whisper her name

She groped me in the gallop of an orgasmic lullaby
more tears poured from her nether regions
my efforts drowned, yet I continued to plunge deeper
a treasure that could measure every pleasure in a sense
better never than forever that might weather said pretense
an assumption that kept us clinging to each other
as private pseudo lovers, beneath the covers
hotel guise. her potent thighs. strictly deceptive tithes.

I paid, gladly...
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5324 Dec 31, 2012
another kiss. another lie. let's lay as we lie
together... whatever
your sex is my favorite as mine is... yours?
oh well, we're confused
I guess...
let's have sex and
forget about this conversation
as we usually do
as we "do the do"
doing what is being done
creating jealousy for others
that could promise us more
men chase you
women look at me
we're both a wanted couple
that can't seem to want each other
the right way
oh well, c'est la vie
more great sex to satiate
the restless topics of our tongue
you wish to talk to me about
your feelings
but it's never the *right time* is it?
I thought about telling you
that I think I love you
but I don't think that it's the *right time* either
more back and forth
plus more quieting sex for the quick fix
minus a few quickies in-between work
too frivolous to consider this
as a serious matter to chat about
we are not good for one another
yet we're best when we're besting
each other at mind games
sex games... as long as we don't discuss
the things we *need* to discuss
so let's not talk about it
shall we?
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5325 Dec 31, 2012
What we practice

is sweet sin

innocent and intimate

our bodies. instruments.

perfect symphony.

perfect ecstasy.
each
and every
time

we cum together

I understand the quivers in your thighs

I taste the ambrosia from your inner labia

every lip service I induce is a birth in the making

while my fingers invokes the womb of your womanly needs

arch your back, let me inside... MORE

(don't) close your eyes

watch me watch you watch each maneuver, blissfully

I'm the master of your climax

you've already given me the keys to drive you wild

so enjoy the ride

.
.
.
part two as I part you all the more sweeter

sliding inside of you, so gently

while our hips rock to the unison of our private ocean

slow motion as our eyes capture each other, panoramic pleasure

skin flickering sensation, while kisses and bites, unite

arched backs, plunged thrusts; tightened friction

...has my point been made yet?

::To Be Continued... Later::
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5326 Dec 31, 2012
Do you blame me that I loved her?
If when standing all alone
I cried for bread a careless world
Pressed to my lips a stone.

Do you blame me that I loved her,
That my heart beat glad and free,
When she told me in the sweetest tones
She loved but only me?

Can you blame me that I did not see
Beneath her burning kiss
The serpent’s wiles, nor even hear
The deadly adder hiss?

Can you blame me that my heart grew cold
That the tempted, tempter turned;
When she was feted and caressed
And I was coldly spurned?

Would you blame her, when you draw from me
Your dainty robes aside,
If she with gilded baits should claim
Your fairest as his bride?

Would you blame the world if it should press
On her a civic crown;
And see you struggling in the depth
Then harshly press her down?

Crime has no sex and yet to-day
I wear the brand of shame;
Whilst she amid the fair and proud
Still bears an honored name.

Can you blame me if I’ve learned to think
Your hate of vice a sham,
When you so coldly crushed me down
And then excused the woman?

Would you blame me if to-morrow
The coroner should say,
A wretched girl, outcast, forlorn,
Has thrown her life away?

Yes, blame me for my downward course,
But oh! remember well,
Within your homes you press the hand
That led me down to hell.

I’m glad God’s ways are not our ways,
He does not see as man,
Within His love I know there’s room
For those whom others ban.

I think before His great white throne,
His throne of spotless light,
That whited sepulchres shall wear
The hue of endless night.

That I who fell, and she who sinned,
Shall reap as we have sown;
That each the burden of her loss
Must bear and bear alone.

No golden weights can turn the scale
Of justice in His sight;
And what is wrong in man’s life
In woman’s cannot be right.
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5327 Jan 1, 2013
Closet desires drawn open
while curtains are closed
she doesn't mind
she's a nudist by nature
posing for me outside
in the nude
requesting raw sex
from behind
outside in the wild of the country
miles, as the morning light
finds us exhausting each other
like voracious whores in heat
I pull her hair, she bites her lip
I abuse her tender complexion
yet she takes it like a pro
no masse, no fuss
nor faux
fake nothing through the climax
as she invokes guttural release
love isn't the issue
sure there's love, but fucking is her forte
countdown from forty minutes
until her next gushing finish
I've timed her just right
her submissive smile, while I mount her
and defile her, once more
it becomes common place
I tell her to give herself to me
she arches her back all the more
for the entry that will define her happiness
each day of the week... especially
during the night, thus she leaks like a faucet
raunchy back shots
epic echoing ecstasy
she shrieks, she coos, her 'eccentric' moans
coincides with each concave thrust
provided, she glistens amidst my gliding strokes
I call her my sweet honey pot whore
she calls me, her "Stud-Muffin"
we keep fucking like hotel partners
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5328 Jan 1, 2013
I tried to time it right
but I was off
yet I was on
point

she eased into it
just right
without pause
I palmed her

her hands bracing
the sheets
while I penetrated
her every being

I fit her like a glove
a perfect fit
her body responded
with pleasure and pain

each spread, each sprawl
every thrust; every stroke
measured every way right
just right
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5329 Jan 1, 2013
Topix Offbeat Poetic District Court

The Nowhere District of Every Where

In the matter of

Adrian DeVine (aka DeVine Knight)
(Defendant)

Vs
College Girl In Mini-Skirt
(Plaintiff)

On the 11th of August,2012, You were accused of seducing a college girl with erotic, dirty, nasty Poetry.

On above mentioned day, you shared erotic poetry with a woman that clearly stated she did not like smut. Knowing that, you continued with your seduction. The woman in question stated that after she read said poetry , she could not get it out of her mind all day.

On that very same night, her body, without her minds consent went to see you in your room where you had your way with her…if not for the dirty poem, she stated she would have never succumbed to such deeds.

Mr. DeVine…
How do you plead?

Your Honor, if it pleases the court
I'd like to take a few moments to discuss
the charges that have been brought upon my person

despite the fact that I acted out of my carnal vices
she did as well, pretending to be disgusted
by my dirty language
it was SHE that arrived at my hotel room
dressed in a mini-skirt
holding a bottle of grey goose
offering me liquor and begging me
to write 'an even dirtier' poem
about her
it was SHE that stripped naked
indulged in intimate plights upon my thighs
while my fingers were guided
by HER hands;

It was HER handiwork
that unzipped my pants, pulling me out of my trousers
stroking me 'til I was hard enough
to cut diamonds
truthfully, I enjoyed it, I didn't stop her
her tongue and mouth felt like a masseuse
upon my shaft as I climaxed and she swallowed
she told me to be sure to write that down
I complied to her commands
as she demanded that I bent her over
and fuck her like a slut
truthfully, she was... a sorority reject
taking turns with frat boys by the dozen
when she was drunk enough to forget names
by the descriptions that she gave
she's written a collection of her own Dirty Poems
all the while pretending to be offended
by dirty words
using that as a ruse to pick her next 'target'
as I targeted all of her vital spots that spelled out
every moan that would condone explicit charge

so my plea is that I'm NOT GUILTY
only caught up by circumstance
despite the coincidence of the evidence
that has been exhibited against me
it's quite hard pressed to convict
& indict on the case of acceptance
I accepted to invite her in, but she
invited me to use her body
that was her choice and her decision
she brought the liquor AND the condoms
she lifted her legs towards the ceiling
& told me to 'give it to her'

so again, your Honor, I'm NOT GUILTY
I'm more of a victim than a offender
yes I lack control for casual sex with the next
available piece of sultry flesh that I connect with
but that shouldn't convict me of a crime that I'm innocent of
I only did what I was asked to do:
Pancreas-numbing sex and some poetry writing

Your Honor,
The Defense Rests!

Thank You.
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5330 Jan 1, 2013
She was drunk and I was drunk
flirting back and forth with drunk talk
drunk poetry, belching nonsense
she twirled her hair while stroking
layers of wordplay from my crotch
she claimed her giving head was the best
poetry she could ever recite to me

We congregated about restaurants and vacations
the orange in her hips kept me fed
beside me in the rented bed, listening to Coltrane
and strumming each other to hotel porn
breakfast across the street, coffee and cannabis
before and after steak & eggs
more poetry discussing parallel sex

It was a trip to listen to her roll rhythm
from the corners of her mouth, each syllable
danced as an acrobatic stripper, somersaulting
to and fro from the ceiling fan of our climaxes
inside we nicknamed "Sanctuary," where strangers
visit each other, only to leave, knowing each other
this is where she and I learned how to play
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5331 Jan 1, 2013
Chewed her concise and shallowed climax
content yet condoning of nothing less
than spare bland clitoris lullaby
a study of her polite contrast
shook her sweaty ass for safe measure
as she shivered with the grace
of a paper shredder
her leaks were like a magic word
leaving evidence upon the bed sheets
while she lit another joint
asking me for the time; Those kind quiet days
safe inside a rapid dream where liquor
and unused condoms kept the church vows at the front door
her wedding band in her jeans back pocket
her husband was away at a seminar
preaching the word like a good saint should
she faked a cold just to keep herself hot for me
I speculate amidst discretion
she has used her body as weapon, before me
she's too calculated with things
the arch in her back, the signatures
while checking in and out
the tone of her voice when she speaks
during cell phone chats
with friends and family
and the love of her life
the ultra rich pastor with the followers
carrying him to his next penthouse
in Antigua, while she oversees business
in her home town, lavish living in lovers
that never address her by first name
she hides his sin as she embraces hers
another drag from her cigarette, she quips
hell, it's better being broke and having
to turn fucking tricks like I used to do
and it keeps him out of my hair.
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5332 Jan 1, 2013
Empress of Something
striving in solace
drinking Mexican beer
pretending to be a mermaid
touching her toes
in turquoise and royal blue
proving to be miss bad mama jama
moving it like a thickset Peruvian
jiggle softness produced hard-ons
body language speaks sophisticated bliss
despite trailer park education
here she comes,
honeydew tits
Pacific thighs
tiara fitted around her crown
as if she's Queen of the Night
tight in the misguided plight
that sure as hell gropes heaven
by the balls thus to stroke out
that guttural load
for her viewing pleasure
she licks her chops clean....yummm
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5333 Jan 1, 2013
Empty hairline promises
broken by the vow of a distant breath
that may or may not ...fade...
silk locked braids in my embrace
as we gyrate face to face
amidst the time of never-ending
negligence
naked as you would be
in front of me
while I replay each special night
back and forth
in front of my memories
each hotel we purchased
each unopened condom we never used
each ecstasy we abused
without pause
sweet sex in a bed made of our flesh
the perfect sin
God might forgive us
but I doubt He'll forget
how the smell of hell reeked thru our limbs
during each hot session
each plot questions
why you're here with me
did you hear me
why are you here with me
you've got a room full of dudes
lubing up their tubes
awaiting the chance to dance
in your slippery cube, but...
your but(t)'s aren't for them
you direct them and 'it'
in my direction for me to worship
more clouds to pounce upon
in climax, we proceed
without resolve
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5335 Jan 1, 2013
choose a letter,

and then another…

and another…

and another…



now chew them,

until you feel your taste buds

electrified by the DNA

of a new word.



allow the embryo

to accommodate to your

status of word maker -

you are its root.



soon

it will ask you for another,

and you won’t have the heart

to leave it feeling lonely.



and by the time you know it,

the new words

will have bitten

from the core of your mind.



they will form worlds,

and they will unfold

new meanings

in front of your eyes.



they will bless you,

curse you,

give you insomnia

and make you cry.



you will try to rule them

and you will apply

the mene-tekel-phares principle

in order to sieve them.



you will flood them,

save them,

reshape them,

and redeem them.



but in the end you will bitterly learn

that the now alive words

shall have a will of their own,

consuming your essence.



and that

is only the beginning

of poetry -

day one.

Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5336 Jan 1, 2013
[…] that stubborn
splinter of tamarind fragrance
stuck on the tip of
my thoughts
makes sure every day
that I
no longer belong
to dust
but to air
and to the bones of clouds
spread all over the bedspread of autumn
like tokens of my ancient
mud-filled veins.
aquarelled,
colors lose their
solid valence,
flowing through my
downgate of timelessness.
whored by the highly odorous
crown of unhappened futures
my tongue cradles words
swinging them
with a rock-a-bye guilt
while letting their blood
leak between my teeth –
you don’t know,
but each word I’m allowing to
tickle your nerves
is the tombstone of a world […]

Level 6

Since: Jan 12

Location hidden

#5337 Jan 1, 2013
brackish Words
salty drops
of La Mar clinging
or rolling tears
How it weeps, the cringing
cries of seagulls shriek spears.
But, stop, what is that it sheds,
salty drops?
Taste its piquant bite,
its moisture on your tongue.
It pleads like a whisper
then a roar to shore...
To be spellbound
tongue bound, Tellurian,
name me
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

#5338 Jan 1, 2013
Chopped and chewed and swallowed -
down we go
on eternity’s throat,
one bite of salty clay after another
to be recycled
and become the burnt sienna skies
of some obscure tomorrow.

fate chimes its eyelashes
like some odalisque her coin belt -
the boatman’s pockets are always full
with tradition’s eye seals.

we are but stairs
for humanity’s pretended
e-volution,
we circle meanings
like eagles circle unseen angels
up-above,
without ever touching them,
we live to ignore
and ignore to learn
the reason why history is repeating -
and talking tall
we show our real essence -

the spoiled mud flowing in our veins
keeps bringing bitter smiles
on god’s resigned mouth:
ever non-grown-ups, these earthlings…

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