Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5545 Jan 17, 2013
Aware I am of my soul Adoration of your
Bold masculinity that Beckons my
Cu nt that Completely Craves your
Dick that will Do wonders for my femininity because
Every time you Enter my center and Exit my behind and
Fuc k me after I Fellate you I thank you thank
God for Giving you to me, and I think God
How lowly and Humbly
I survived, I without your Intimacy, I
Just me alone, Just me without your Juxtaposed lips
Kissing between my exposed hips and Kinking my thoughts while I'm
Loving every Leaving minute that I Lust for you in and
My sado Masochistic tendencies that your Manhood brings out in my
Naughty but Nice mis-demeanor that you
Orgasmicly quake with your Oral
Pain as my Pleasure that you so
Quaintly treasure with not so Quiet measure and i
Return to you always because i know all i Really want to be is your
Slave who Surrenders Solely to your S&M Style worn with a Smile while
Treating me to your Tongue's Twist and Taste, and if I'm real good
U'll fill me with Undulations Until I'm a
Virgin no more as you Vanquish my Vestal Vanity
With your Wanton machismo Ways that puts the
X in our sex as Xtreme as it gets so that
You and i can reach orgasmic buddhist
Zen as you Zealously play my erogenous Zones....
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5546 Jan 17, 2013
I lie awake in the grey half-light
with an ache and tell-tale wetness
there, on the softest skin.

Fingerpainting I-love-you
in the slippery gouache of my lust;
a dream spending leaving
pearlescent pools on my thighs.

Wanton sighs murmured
across a hundred hills,
bringing your fingers
to cover mine and draw Cupid's
arrow pointing upward
at the target of g-spot,
clit and womb.

Give me this
now, tonight.
Don't leave me
without sliding
in and out and over
again against those places.

Baby, please don't leave me
without giving my mind
a loving caress
to make the dream real........
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5547 Jan 17, 2013
Manipulate me to your will.
Assure me of your strength.
Succumb to my need for you.
Offer yourself to me.
Challenge your limitations.
Have trust in my desires.
Instruct me to do your biddings.
Silence my impertinence.
Tolerate my disobedience.
Need my obediance.
Enjoy my flesh.
Enter into my inviting chambers.
Devour my body with yours.
Surrender to your fantasies.
Abandon your restraint.
Dominate me as your pet.
Indulge in your desire to penetrate me.
Seduce me with your touch.
Tempting me with your taste.
Instructing me of your needs.
Cleanse me of my purity.
Leave me needing more of you.
Only satisfy yourself.
Venture past your comfort level.
Entertaining your darkest wish.
Relishing in your satisfaction.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5548 Jan 17, 2013
Kissing on the neck, nibble on the ear

Hands slowly cupping breast and feeling nipples that grow with each tender touch

Kissing passionately, down to those breast, licking and sucking with the best

Hands wondering sliding down to slightly wet thighs

Parting pussy lips, feeling the mound, slowly entering felling the clit nicely now

Hand touch, feeling a large c ock, rubbing it slowly up and down

Asking politely at first then saying fu ck me now

Big c ock entering, sliding up and down, clit rising, hands hiding all around

Writhing slowly, ass feeling the pounding on the ground

Rising fever, getting heated, hands now tied down

Loud moaning, screams frightening "OH F UCK ME MORE NOW"

Orgasm heaven, cock exploding wanting to hold him more and more inside

Mouths connecting nipples shaking, toes curling all around

Sheer pleasure in our leisure that is what we have

One great f uck is all it takes to remember the pleasure and ecstasy
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5549 Jan 18, 2013
our bodies entwined
smelling of sex
I'm breathless with anticipation
of what you'll do next

my supple thighs parted
with my knees slightly bent
you lower yourself
and take in my scent

your tongue gently probing
my most sensitive spot
I'm trying not to orgasm
but, hold back, I cannot

your face glistens with my moisture
as you watch my vagina contract
now it's your turn, baby
I want you on your back

there's no need to get you hard
you're already completely erect
I marvel at your manhood
as every inch of it I inspect

soft flicks of my tongue
tease your stomach, neck, and chest
now you're breathless with anticipation
waiting for me to do what I do best

I kiss your pelvic region
then swallow you whole
deepthroating is not a problem
I have great gag control

I'm sucking so fast
to you, my face is a blur
your hips are vigorously humping
the same way mine just were

my mouth receives its award
with one final thrust
ending a night of breathless anticipation
filled with sex, love, and lust
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5550 Jan 18, 2013
like you,
I have always been
tethered on the border
just out of reach:
we often wish
nothing had
happened, regret those
heartbeat tastes
of ambrosia.
You too were always
the last awake.

You and I know
it is good
to learn a second language:
the tongue moves
over new consonants
educates itself
becomes flexible

Do you also
wish for famine, hope
that without perfume
one would not long
for flowers?

We count kisses
on two hands;
the roses,
once a year, in June.

You used to wish
for liquid or cloth
any soft thing
to fold into yourself
to match the shape
of the space, the empty cup
that defines you
like your own open mouth:
You carry it
to the well, carry it
back. Empty. Drink.

She curls close
I cannot breathe
I have been frozen
at twelve, at fifteen.
Who is pure then
who is ready
who is a slim green reed
a tiny drum in the heart?
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5551 Jan 18, 2013
When the gentleness stops
You're primal
I'm feral
A nameless whore
growls, groans, whimpers
And pussy meows.
Nails and teeth find purchase
As we move across the bed
Clawing, ripping clothes from lithe bodies
Frantic to feel flesh against flesh
Landing in the floor in a tangle of limbs.
Pinned beneath you
You spread my thighs with your knee.
I arch as you graze my over sensitive c unt
Your name a whispered plea on my lips
As I beg again.
I've been begging all morning, it's what I do best.

Do it!

And f uck me, do you do it!
This morning you were a gentle lover
Focused solely on beauty and pleasure
Sensually, you gave me what I needed
You're different now
With my ankles over broad shoulders
Folding my body in half
Lewdly displayed,
Helpless to resist
As you rip obscene screams from my throat
My clit bleeds slowly from when your mouth had focused
On the center of my being
Until I became a mindless, writhing mess
My ass is stretched, aching
Oozing wet sticky cum from your use.
Cover my thighs
From fists and the thin cane
That so lovingly licked my pale skin an hour ago.
I hurt everywhere
Muscles throb with stiffness
But it feels so damn good...

Level 6

Since: Apr 12

Location hidden

#5552 Jan 18, 2013
Homunculus Nebula wrote:
my garden
blossoms with beauty
and I see heaven on this earth.
What a beautifull thought.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5553 Jan 18, 2013
Sweet Lady Luck, I've a favor to ask,
It's a large one I fear, and no easy task;
That is, to build me a woman, without yet a name,
That the past couldn't break and the future can't tame.

Bless her with laughter and a spirit of strength,
A compassionate will and patience in length;
The grace of a dancer perfecting an art,
And a love for the living placed deep in her heart.

Make her a woman who's proud to be free
To ride on the wings of her own destiny;
Gorgeous brown eyes with a sparkle in each,
And a softness of touch from a delicate reach.

Long raven tresses falling softly like rain
Upon such slender shoulders that have never known pain;
Grant her serenity and sanity in thought
To accept what she's given and enjoy what she's got.

Create her with an innocence only an infant could claim,
And a smile that has never and will never know shame;
Temper her with wisdom of the aging of years
Hidden deep in her eyes within a whisper of tears.

Soft tender lips 'neath an aqualine nose
With the faint scent of dew-drops from a fairy-tale rose;
A crystalline laughter that sounds as it seems,
Like rogue shafts of sunlight through forests of dreams.

Send her with a smile of genuine love,
That blesses with a happiness sent from above;
Create all the curiosity and mischief of youth
With a strong sense of respect for the beauty of truth.

Grace her with wit and humor and charm
To keep her in health and to keep her from harm;
Give her the courage to go after her dreams,
And knowledge to know that all is not as it seems.

Cause in her mercy to forget and forgive,
To help both herself and others to live;
Teach her compassion and kindness in measure,
And teach her to live life from pleasure to pleasure.

Give her a soul filled with a passionate fire
That burns with the strength of a lover's desire;
Make her so beautiful and humble and sweet
That emporers and kings shall fall at her feet.

Bathe her in softness, a silken caress
Of whispers and sighs in abundant excess;
Make her these things, make her each one and more,
A product of beauty, magic, wisdom, and lore.

Sweet Lady, please hear me as I lie here alone,
Wishing for daydreams and pleasures unknown;
Grant me this wish -- each night it's the same,
Grant me this woman-- and give her a name.

Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5554 Jan 18, 2013
Have you ever wondered...
why we seek halucinaton?
Or hallucination, for that matter.


We try to harness thoughts
yet we dillude them with our fantasies.
Or perhaps we dilute them.
Or elude them. Or become deluded.

Where our views and fantasy are the only reality

And poetry is fantasy and views

But what is the nature of poetry
what thought is poetry to convey

We think in language
the quality of our thoughts
can only be as good as the quality
our dillusiosity?
our language

Abstraction in poetic image is effective
when the message can still be conveyed

with set lines of communication
with grammar
with spelling - the perfect fix.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5555 Jan 18, 2013
I cannot reach the black you throw me
with your fireball hands and eyes,
glowing with mists in the moon,
whispers of death and the departed
screams of children scraped off
cemetary stones ruins of the
past undetectable sighs of
feelings floating through the
night of my mind
where all is lost
and I cannot find
(anything, anywhere),
my way out.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5556 Jan 18, 2013
A letter arrived
Marked: "attention required."
It said my poetic license
Had expired.

To the Department of Literary Vehicles
I went to undate it.
The lines were long;
I waited and waited.

When I finally got to the window
There was a test.
I reposed to compose
And give it my best.

But the man informed me
That I had flunked.
He said what I wrote
Was just a bunch of junk.

I asked "Who are you
To say I didn't pass?
You couldn't recognize a good poem
If it bit you on the ass!"

"That may be so," he said,
"But I recognize the pathetic--
Which yours is, of course,
It is certainly not poetic.

What you wrote isn't poetry;
What you wrote isn't rap.
Think what might happen
If a child heard that crap.

That's why there is a license
That you must renew.
This protects the public
From poets like you."

I ranted and raved;
I threw such a fit,
They decided to give me
A Learner's Permit.

But this wasn't good;
This was not cool.
To get my license back
I had to go to school,

Or compose my poetry
With the supervision and help
Of a licensed poet
Who must be seated to my left.

"I refure!" I said;
"What you're doing is a crime!
I'll give up my license
And never again rhyme."

But temptation was everywhere,
Like the man with the bucket,
Who said he really was
From the town of Nantucket.

He was a dude
Who was crude and shrewd.
His name was McGruder;
He drove a scooter;
He was a tutor

For a New Orleans man
Who was a water meter reader,
And a Walla Walla woman
Who made humming bird feeders.
He was teaching them both
How to play tic-tac-toe
And where to find Waldo.

Everywhere I went
The roses were red;
The violets were blue;
Then came an old woman
Who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children
She didn't know what to do.
And she was here to say
There was another one on the way.

I told the old woman
"What the heck?
More children will add
To your welfare check.
And before you even dare
To think about abortion
Move into a Nike
And they might give you a shoe endorsement."

She thanked me so kind.
I said "I'm sorry about the rhyme.
If you won't call the poetry police
I promise to desist and cease."

I was truly sorry
For what I did,
And concerned I couldn't trust a woman
Who had so many kids.

Then I saw a baby
In a tree top.
I picked up my cell phone
And called a cop--

Who arrested the parents,
Without any maybe's.
That is not a proper place
To keep a baby.

And I wanted to write a poem
That would make parents see
That they should not put
Their babies in trees;

But without license
I didn't dare do,
Or the cops would come
And arrest me too.

It was more than I could stand;
I was depressed and subdued.
I wanted my poetic license
To be renewed.

Everything was poetic;
It made me want to weep.
I thought I'd feel better
If I got a little sleep.

Within a few minutes
The dreams started rolling past.
There was a pickup truck carrying a donkey;
You could say it was hauling ass.

It stopped to pick me up,
Right out of the blue;
So I guess you could say
That it was hauling two.

To the airport is where they took me,
But I was afraid to get on and go;
"We love to show that it flies"
Was the airline's motto.

I had to get away,
So I hailed a taxi as I ran.
The driver had a pick;
He was a guitar man.

And everytime he stopped he did a little pickin';
While Louise Mandrell was ridin' shotgun;
They were singing songs about dead chickens
And having a lot of fun.

They dropped me off at a mall,
And I thought I'd browse a while,
When I met a man who was lookin'
For his missing inner child.

He said he had to find the kid,
That he was pretty much all alone
Ever since his inner child
Ran away from home.

I said "What you got to do
To deal with all that guilt
Is to put your inner child's picture
On cartons of milk.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5557 Jan 18, 2013
He said this was a good idea,
Then he thanked me from the heart,
And I walked on down the mall to see
Some designer auto parts.
Oscar de la Renta was sellin'
A line of ball joints.
And Calvin Klein was hawkin'
Designer plugs and points.
Gloria Vanderbilt was showing off
Her designer manifolds.
And you could see that Ralph Lauren was really proud
Of his fuel pumps made of gold.
And I was sure that designer auto parts
Would become the passion;
And I couldn't wait for my car to breakdown
So I could fix it in high fashion.
Then I dreamed I passes a doctor's office
And they were handing out alco-derm patches.
And people were stickin' them on their skin,
They were puttin''em on in batches.
It seems they were alcoholics
Giving up their bottles of gin,
So they could pass a breath test
While gettin' loaded through their skin.
Ain't technology wonderful?
That's what I was thinkin'.
Sure was a good way
To stop yourself from drinkin'.
I walked on down to a sporting goods store
And they tried to sell me some shoes.
They said they would make my joggin'
So effortless and smooth.
I said "No thanks, I tried joggin',
But had to stop it;
The cigarettes kept fallin'
Out of my pocket."
I said "A better way
Is to eat a lot of junk food;
Then you will jog
Every time you move."
They said "You are what you eat."
I said "Yea, that's what I've heard;"
And I walked on down the mall
Eatin' a box of Nerds.
I saw two men arguin';
They was givin' each other fits.
One turned to the other and said
"I don't give a *#&~^#!"
And I thought to myself that if he did
"Give a *#&~^#,"
I didn't think that anyone
Would want it.
The Salvation Army
Would not want this kind of ware.
The United Way would not consider
*#&~^# to be a fair share.
No charity
Would think this gift great.
No church would want *#&~^#
In their collection plate.
But I guess if one should offer
To show this kind of care,
We could remind them of how their gift
Would affect the quality of the air--
And direct them to a toilet,
And in a tone quite curt,
Tell them to sit on this
And give until it hurts.
"Go <*^##*^> yourself!" the other man said,
As they continued to disagree.
I walked away quickly,
That was something I didn't want to see.
Then I met a woman named Ruth;
She was a sayer of sooth.
She said it would be uncouth
To say sooth that wasn't truth.
But she had some sooth to say,
So I best get out of her way.
She said "I've been sick, and I've been well.
Surviving both, I'm here to tell
That one thing is perfectly clear
It is better to be well for one day
Than to be sick for ten years."
Then she said "whether you travel
Near of far,
Everywhere you go,
There you are.
And wherever it is
That you might be,
Everywhere you look
There is something to see."
I didn't have proof that Ruth's sooth was truth,
But since I didn't have to pay her,
I was willin' to accept that sooth
Was in the mind of the sayer.
Then she asked if I'd like to hear more;
She said she had a lot left.
I didn't want to hurt her feelings,
So I told her I was deaf.
Then I saw two politicians,
Much to my surprise,
Their pants were on fire
And they had needles in their eyes.
They were debatin'
Which things we should be hatin'.
I couldn't decide which one should win,
Or which pile to step in.
So I decided to caste my vote
For the one who loved God the most.
But it seemed they both loved him a bunch,
So I voted for the one who bought me lunch.
I walked on down the mall
To do some window shoppin'.
That was really rockin'.
But I misunderstood
What the ad was tellin'.
It wasn't knockers,
But Dockers they were sellin'.
Then I went into a tattoo parlor
And had myself tattooed
With all the numbers
From one to ninety-two.
And when I left that parlor
The people did announce
That I was a person
On whom they could count.
Then I went to a toy store
I bought a Born Again Barbie,
The doll who talks in tongues.
And every time I pulled her string
Her babblin' did abound.
I didn't know what she was sayin',
But she sounded like James Brown
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5558 Jan 18, 2013
Then I dreamed I went home;
There was a woman waterin' my grass.
I asked "Don't you realize
That will make it grow fast?"

She said "Yes;"
She did know.
She was doin' it
So I'd have to mow.

I called her a bad name
That rhymes with mow,
And told her she had to go.

And as she walked away, I could see
That my lawn was still drenched,
So I order my dog
To sic the wench.

But it seems my dog
Was not in the mood.
He don't sic nothing
That's not eatin' his food.

Damn that dog!
If he had more viciousness
I'd never be visited
By Jehovah's Witnesses.

But up walked two;
They were twins,
On a campaign
To get rid of sin.

They said by God they had been sent
To tell me I should repent,
What they said was probably true;
They had biblical names, these two;
They were the Testament brothers,
Old and New.

I told them I was like God,
In my own little way;
Because I don't do anything
On the sabbath day.

But unlike God,
Who took sabbath as a breather,
I don't do much
On the other days either.

On some grammatical cleansing frenzy,
With words so bardly,
But hardly Bob Marley.
They admitted they shot the participle dangler,
But they did not shoot the metaphor mixer.

It seemed the dangler
Was always teasin'
With subjects and verbs
That didn't agree,
And being an infinite dim-wit
Infinitives he would split.

This is why
He deserved to die;
But the metaphor mixer,
He accidently got dead--
A run-on sentence hit him in the head.

But tonight, if they had their way,
They were going to make pay
The people who add "okay"
To what they say.

And it was understood--
They were out for blood!

They asked me if I knew why these people
Ask if it's "okay"
After almost
Everything they say.

Do they need our approval
To know if they should ask penitence
Before they dare
Start their next sentence?

Or were they taught
That in conversational art
"Okay" should be used
As an audible punctuation mark?

They wondered if
The "okays" were still there
When they bowed their heads
And made to God a prayer?

"And now I lay me down to sleep; okay?
I pray the lord my soul to keep; okay?
If I should did before I wake; okay?
I pray the lord my soul to take; okay?"

And they wondered if they'd conclude each line
Of their poem on Valentine's Day
With the usual question
Asking if it's okay?

"Roses are red; okay?
Violets are blue; okay?
I think you're okay.
Do you think I'm okay too?"

And I was sure they wasn't playin'
When one of them started sayin'
That after they kill those who do the okayin',
Then they'd be slayin'
The people who end each sentence with "you know what I'm sayin'!"

I could see that there was going to be murder in mass,
And I knew I had to get away fast.
And did I ask if this was okay?
No way!

I was afraid to go back to sleep;
I was afraid to stay awake.
Giving up my poetic license
Was a big mistake!

Anyone could plainly see
That my life was terrible;
And if I couldn't write poetry
It might become unbearable.

Writin' those lines that rhyme
Was my way of passin' time.

But then I started wonderin' why
I pass so much time
Makin' up stupid
Things that rhyme?
Maybe I spend too much time alone,
Or maybe I have a Rhymin' Jones.

One might easily agree
This activity is pathetic;
But I can't help it,
It must be genetic.

But if I rest
And medicate my condition,
My Rhymin' Jones
Might go into remission.

And I could be
A recovering poet;
Join Versifiers Anonymous
And to meetings goethe.

In a twelve step program
I could deal with this affliction;
And maybe I could end
This rhyming addiction!

"Hi, my name is Diogenes Bob;
I am a poet most caring."
"Hi, Bob;
Thanks for not sharing."

I decided to go a lookin',
Hoping I could find
A meaning for life
That didn't rhyme.

So I climbed a mountain in Tibet;
It rained all day, I was soaking wet.
But I endured the rain and the terrible strife
To ask a holy lama the meaning of life
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5559 Jan 18, 2013
When I reached the peak, I asked the holy man
To tell me life's meaning as best he can.
He replied that life's meaning, true,
Was "do wa diddy diddy dum diddy do."

I said "That isn't true,
I can't accept it, I won't."
He said "How about
Do wa diddy diddy dum diddy don't?"

I couldn't understand
A single word that he said.
I guess he was talkin'
Over my head.

So I went to see the governor
To see if he'd help me out.
He is a great statesman,
With intellect and clout.

But they told me he was too busy,
And as they walked me to the door,
I could hear the governor sayin'
"Give me all your fours."

I went home and turned on the TV
To watch a talk show.
They were discussin' things
They said I needed to know.

A man said that on judgment day
So many would be left out in the cold,
Because the appendix was the place
That God put the soul.

And I thought that I was lucky
To be turned into that station.
It was a valuable contribution
To my education.

But I still have my appendix,
Wisdom teeth, tonsils and gall bladder,
But without my poetic license,
This doesn't seem to matter.

Without my poetic license,
Life, I didn't like it.
I picked up my phone
And called a telephone psychic.

The psychic said his name was
Michelle Nostrodumbass.
He said he knew my future,
My present and my past.

He said I was a man
Who had a telephone.
And could afford $4 a minute
Without taking out a loan.

He said I was good at breathing,
Good at sleeping too.
Good at eating
And tieing my shoe.

He said I was like him
Because we both have names.
And except for our differences,
We were both the same.

He told me my life would be easy,
Except for the times that were rough.
He said that I'd die old
If I lived long enough.

He said if I had a pencil
On the world I could leave a mark.
He said that when the sun went down
My world would grow dark.

He said I was a proponent
Of flushing the commode.
He told me I'd be naked
If I took off all my clothes.

He said I had a clock
That did a lot of tickin';
And that I had eaten a lot of stuff
That tasted a lot like chicken.

But when I asked about my license,
He said he didn't have a clue.
I hung up and called a lawyer
And asked if I could sue.


I got rights;
I got lefts;
I got a right to bear arms;
I got a right to bare legs;
A part of me looks like a knee;
Another part looks like a foot.
I wish I hadn't told the man
Where to put--
My license.

Cause now I want it back,
But I don't dare
Reach in there.
If that's where he put it
It's going to have to stay.
I'll have to find some other way.


I got my poetic license back;
I can legally rhyme once more.
How did I do it?
You implore.

I enrolled in the poetry school
That is run by Mom and Pop.
It is called Our Lady of the Catfish Pond
Poetry School and Bait Shop.

Mom is the headmistress;
She taught us from books.
Pop is the headmaster baiter,
He taught us how to bait hooks.

The school turns out real scholars.
Better education you could not wish.
Not only can I read and write poetry,
I can also catch fish.

The picture in my license, you ask;
Well that was sort of a gag.
I told the D.L.V. that I was The Unknown Poet,
And I always wore a bag.

Besides, this is just a minor flaw,
And possession is nine points of the law.
And I now possess a license to rhyme
Which you can't prove isn't mine!

Think what you want!

If you want to think that I got a "real" poet
To go to some other D.L.V.,
Take the test in my name
To get a license for me,
That is your choosin'.
Good luck with the provin'.

But until then:

Sail on, sail on
Oh mighty Rhymin' Jones--
Oh great phantom
Of the mobile home--
One who inhabits the twilight zone,
Cosigner of my loan--
Hold the phone,
I got a dial tone;
Pass a kidney stone;
Throw the dog a bone;
Enjoy an ice cream cone,
As I rhyme my way
Through the great unknown!

Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5560 Jan 19, 2013
My soul is sick
I need touch, I crave warmth
I feel so lost
A soft word, kindness, strength
I am so tired
Not my own strength, for I have none
Dreams are not real
To let me know you understand
Love is not true
To provide arms to hold me
Life is not fair
To share a shoulder to cry on
My hope is so jaded
For somebody to goddamned care
I can't still be here
Before it's too late and I'm gone
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5561 Jan 19, 2013
As His touch brings her alive,
sends butterflies
to swirl and dance
in her bare belly,
she gazes with awe
into eyes
with understanding,
wondering how
He can see so clearly
into her soul,
the longings, cravings
which go unanswered
Her dreams
become reality
when His warmth
enfolds her
offering so much
that she has been missing.
When He fills her with His heat,
rains come
searing, soaking
freed by her submission
to His yearnings and desires.
His dominance
a sculptor’s pick
chipping away
fears and oppressions
the woman
she was meant to be.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5562 Jan 19, 2013
My false smiles, my real tears pouring down
Hiding my pain in fear of what you may say
'Tho without you this agony would not exist

You walk along too blind to see my heart
The sun never warms the long, frozen days
And the dark, empty nights go on forever

My bed is cold, my useless arms lie still
I can only tear apart and bleed so much
But the deep self-loathing never ends

Some might call me lucky- I'm not
The wretched scabs cover a thousand scars
I live in dreams to hide what's inside

I feel my confusion multiplying
Fake a big smile and pretend not to cry
But I have forgotten the truth of what's real

For when you loved me it felt so right
Without you I find myself lost and alone
My life feels broken and torn

Come back, hold me and kiss away my pain
Wipe away my hot, sorrowful tears
Make me whole; I long for you to save me
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5563 Jan 19, 2013
Sweet temptress, sweet orchid,
Your calyx clusters
'Neath a rich foliage,
Warm and inviting,
Guarding the tenderness

Tenderness revealed
As you unfold, pink chalice.
Pink, shiny,
Flowing with the richness of your nectar
Hiding deeper within
A glistening jewel
Crowning the mysteries
of your hidden depths.

A pollenator,
Drawn by your perfume,
Enters gently, treading softly
On the tender flesh.
Probing, drinking the sweetness
Which you give so freely,
so wantonly.

Trembling inflorescence,
Your sap rises
To engorge your petals,
Your pistil, your jewel,
The centre
of your being.

You welcome with trepidation
The invasion
As the pollenator enters your hidden,
your secret parts,
Seeking the darkest depths,
And there bathes your seed
with its pollen.

You rest,
You fold in on yourself,
Your task fulfilled, your purpose done
Enclosing the precious miracle,
New life within you,
Sweet orchid, sweet temptress.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5564 Jan 19, 2013
Is it possible to be involved
with someone and not feel
one emotional bond?

After all
that time we spent fuc king,
talking, laughing, fighting
hating and making up.....

A f uck is a f uck – is that
really true?

Can you honestly
sit there and tell me that I’m
nothing but another fu ck to you?

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