JUST SEX and POETRY
THE MAMMOTH DENTIST

The Gap, Australia

#6004 Feb 2, 2013
I dreamed of seven signet silver rings,
And polished agates for your pretty ears,
With teardrop opals like some Siren’s tears,
Until your beauty sings and sings and sings!
I’ve finished with my distant wanderings,
As I’ve come back to you through suitors' sneers,
For you, who like some goddess now appears,
Fit consort for the majesty of kings!

I’ll pour your wine in hammered chalices
And wind you in such silks as few have seen,
I’ll build for you fantastic palaces
Of fine cut stone of chartreuse, pink and green,
Then turn your rosy lips to such a smile
I’ll wed you on a far volcanic isle!

Pull my needy viscera through that buzzing barrier
Into the wetlands' cliffs and peaks.
An arch below you and before you,
The tall pines brush your belly,
Beckoning you inward and outward.

Flow through me like the river does the mountain,
Fly through me like the bird does the breeze

Throw me high into the frothing sky
So I might love the throbbing sun
And breathlessly bow before you
Praying, forehead fused to my knees

We are a phoenix
Redux, reduced, replayed

Jaggedly we traipse through shallow life, apart
Until restless plates rupture molten rock through powdered peaks
Or ever-patient master time clogs our pumping veins
omg

Saint Albans, WV

#6005 Feb 2, 2013
THE MAMMOTH DENTIST wrote:
<quoted text>(1) Mature audiences only.
(2) Not suitable for people with narrow minds.
(3) The capacity to acquire and apply knowledge required.
(4) Void where prohibited.

Only nyarlathotep, the crawling chaos, you seem to possess
is given a human semblance of intelligence......

In an instant I seemed to see this unnatural contest between a dead intelligence and a breathing mechanism, but only as a spectator--

Such fancies are in dreams; then you've regained your pathetic identity almost as if by a leap forward into a sick mind, and the straining automaton had a directing will as alert and fierce as that of its hideous antagonist.

FYI, My childhood was free of any of the sexual innuendo, you seem to make indirect or subtle, derogatory implications by your sick expression here, therefore I'm unequivocally and positivity. refuting every part of your grubby question in all its malicious overtones ;.

Your attack on me, would lead me to question your own childhood, and the lack of moral convictions.......Just because your Mother and Father were Brother and Sister, there is no need to try to justify you uneducated, misinformed hostility and animosity toward me here.
I continue to stand my ground u really need to seek help. Until u heal u won't be able to feel. In my opinion u r crying out for help. Best of luck to you.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6006 Feb 2, 2013
Someday,
in a city
somewhere..

he stands on an island platform
awaiting the Westbound.
As it approaches, he turns to look

and their eyes lock-
hers smile, as at a returning soldier;
his soften in quiet revelation.

It is a long look-
then she disappears suddenly
into an Eastbound car

and sits between
a window
and her duffel bag,

which she moves instinctively
after a few moments
to make room.

They avoid talk,
especially the obligatory
“have we met?”

because they understand the answer
is no,
and also yes.

How many lifetimes
has it taken?
he wonders

as he touches her hand;
her fingers wrap around his,
and they ride off in silence

save for a few low voices
and the rhythmic clacking of wheels
beneath them.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6007 Feb 2, 2013
I can not always claim to be a poet
Sometimes I’d rather swallow myself
Than to write down what died that day
But I can claim to be better than the way
My bones bang together
When I am too busy bending

I find myself swallowing hammers
Filling myself up with the taste of metal
Because metal is smart enough not to bend
In the first place
And even though I keep pages filled
I don’t always know what to say

Sometimes--
Even those that sleep with suitcases under their tongue
Lose their words
And I would love to consider myself the one
That’s good with the comebacks
The perfect punch lines
But personally
I hate punch lines
I hate lines

Lines make me nervous
Like I am expected to continue
The idea that we are not full of bullshit
That we are not full of waiting
Waiting--
For the line that brings us to our knees
Because the air that comes out of us
Can be just as dangerous as the fist
We hide in our pockets

So I admit
I can’t always claim
To be a poet
Because sometimes I’d rather swallow myself
Than to write down
What died
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6008 Feb 2, 2013
Lovers
of a sad sad song
...weeping over lovely sins!
...a night's guitar and violins
on this computer radio
when Autumn's cusp
leans on with chills
like bloody drops on virgin snow
numbed just enough
in dagger thrust
in contemplating such a kiss
by lonely cigarettes and pills
...and moments of an easier bliss
in memories of long ago...
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6009 Feb 2, 2013
I am sorry
I took her from you
I am sorry
You went into reverse
The moment I appeared
But I refuse be still waters
I like to move
I like to move
I am moving
I know you both tried
To shield me from things
But my heart is still red
Even after all that
And there is no shame
In living
And you may be
A boy going backwards
And she may be a ghost
That never learned how to die
But I cannot apologize
For moving and
changing my persona (again)

Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#6010 Feb 2, 2013
THE MAMMOTH DENTIST wrote:
<quoted text>
*
*
*
*
afflict me with your love
infect me with your poison;
you paralyze me to the point
I can’t breathe, you’re beautiful
and you’re kinder than a kiss
of a butterfly as you gyrate
your hips into mine; you’re
unforgettable like a sun star.
I want to be in your poem
astronomically intimate
unexpected wonder
fucking tender
laying on your sleeping seas
A tongue of fire
down your middle
waves like whip cream
Written by
CYP

This moment brings a stellar collision

The merging of two stars

Spiraling inward

I launch myself

At your heart

Giving birth to a Devine supernova

And

It is quiet pulchritudinous

Let me breathe upon your lips

Fill your lungs with my essence

And

Give me the alluring essence

That

Is yours

Touch me with all your desire

Touch me more

There is gentleness

That lye’s in your being

Rarely seen by others

Let me draw from your well

Let it be mine

And

Then

You shall be my poem

My

Lovely

Lovely

Poem

This moment brings a stellar collision

The merging of two stars

Spiraling inward

Launch yourself at my heart

Lay your head upon my bosom

Deposit your love

Tender love

In

My

Flower

In one giant explosion

And

Let

Gravitational ripples

Be

Ours
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6011 Feb 2, 2013
Check_ Your_ Pulse wrote:
<quoted text>
Written by
CYP
This moment brings a stellar collision
The merging of two stars
Spiraling inward
I launch myself
At your heart
Giving birth to a Devine supernova
And
It is quiet pulchritudinous
Let me breathe upon your lips
Fill your lungs with my essence
And
Give me the alluring essence
That
Is yours
Touch me with all your desire
Touch me more
There is gentleness
That lye’s in your being
Rarely seen by others
Let me draw from your well
Let it be mine
And
Then
You shall be my poem
My
Lovely
Lovely
Poem
This moment brings a stellar collision
The merging of two stars
Spiraling inward
Launch yourself at my heart
Lay your head upon my bosom
Deposit your love
Tender love
In
My
Flower
In one giant explosion
And
Let
Gravitational ripples
Be
Ours
Your tender
fingers
brush my face;
wanton lips
hungry
begging for
my body,
naked
wet
against yours.
mmm....
lick
your face
your hands
your neck
undress you with my eyes
and you cry -
“please, please”
with those pert
little nipples
as I tease
that shirt
off your heaving
chest.
you gasp
my name a thousand times
your skirt around
your ankles.
ah, that taste
your fresh
salt-watermelon
taste
like the beach in summertime
like sex.
I nibble you, delve
into you,
your hot-hot-hot
pussy
tight around my
fingers
I run my tongue
over you, your
round wet
mound of molten
raw carnal desire,
and I beg,
yes, I'm begging....
Oh God....don't let this stop.

Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#6012 Feb 2, 2013
PROFILE DeVINE wrote:
<quoted text>
Your tender
fingers
brush my face;
wanton lips
hungry
begging for
my body,
naked
wet
against yours.
mmm....
lick
your face
your hands
your neck
undress you with my eyes
and you cry -
“please, please”
with those pert
little nipples
as I tease
that shirt
off your heaving
chest.
you gasp
my name a thousand times
your skirt around
your ankles.
ah, that taste
your fresh
salt-watermelon
taste
like the beach in summertime
like sex.
I nibble you, delve
into you,
your hot-hot-hot
pussy
tight around my
fingers
I run my tongue
over you, your
round wet
mound of molten
raw carnal desire,
and I beg,
yes, I'm begging....
Oh God....don't let this stop.
Not So Solitary Pleasures
Written by Zanthia

I felt you.
As I laid down in bed,
And felt your gentle hands
Playing lightly across my flesh.

I felt you.
As I touched myself,
Remembering your tender kisses,
Dancing sweetly on my lips.

I felt you.
As my pleasure rose,
In waves while pondering you,
Your silky tongue on my clit.

I felt you.
As bliss carried me away,
And you held me never ceasing,
Your mouth lovingly caressing me,

I came and you were there.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6013 Feb 2, 2013
Check_ Your_ Pulse wrote:
<quoted text>
Not So Solitary Pleasures
Written by Zanthia
I felt you.
As I laid down in bed,
And felt your gentle hands
Playing lightly across my flesh.
I felt you.
As I touched myself,
Remembering your tender kisses,
Dancing sweetly on my lips.
I felt you.
As my pleasure rose,
In waves while pondering you,
Your silky tongue on my clit.
I felt you.
As bliss carried me away,
And you held me never ceasing,
Your mouth lovingly caressing me,
I came and you were there.
hands stain me soft;
fingertips graze

teasing...

gentle caresses urge
slide; tingle cascade
along spine

titillating...

firmness pulses deep,
seeping a sweet
shameless spill;
bathe in awakened
pulsating, throbbing
erectile
flesh

trembling...

whimpers escape,
wrapped soft,
and so moist, in
femininity arch

whispering...

tongue traces lobe
a slow taste; in
carnal hunger

where...

minutes tick
easing
in and out,
and in and out, of
velvet folds

you....

Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6014 Feb 2, 2013
[ lovers are burning.]
balsamic nudity gallops from shame
into the over-wild wetness of labial volcanoes, caramelized in musk. by love's labor.
laid bare, their bodies origami inhibition...
[ lovers are burning.]
and surrender is victorious !

Eros is speechless. maidens howl into cumulus goose-down, chewing carnal haikus'
with swayed backs.... hips wide and wanton. masculine wands plow oyster beds, unmade.
they joust for pearls... and
[ lovers are burning ]
.... a damp conflagration;
tongue stoked and windswept, conspires.

Monotony is slain !
puritan harps are plucked and thrummed ! lewd harmonies anoint the perfect pitch
and a chorus moans. the ghost of Sylvia Plath, straddles Apollo; and he earns his wreath
surging besotted.
[ lovers are burning ] and laurels forgotten.

Lotharios charge the seldom road;
the starfish door to saturn's parlor.
pumping unbridled, that glistening, cloven moon. her riding crop insists !
his urgency must do.

Satyrs sup salaciously and summon staves to dip in brine. they grin and grind
their sutras, stripping karma gears with silk scarves. ankles to a post, well spread...
cushions crush. flowers press... stamen fed.
nymphs clutch their serpent stones
to drain what nectar slips the slit.
they grope and throat.....

They peck and pinch their quivers; knock their arrows to the purpose, half spent.
[ lovers are burning ]
eyes blaze. nostrils fetch randy fumes of consent. mouths seek.
a pouty swamp with spanish moss
finds a matador
and a bull, a china shop.

Lovers are burning the rough sketch
of a lost god
and their angels are voyeurs
with unclean thoughts

for gospels.

Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6015 Feb 2, 2013
May I find peace and thwart disaster.
Every time, miscounted.
Love, who knows me as I flicker.
And through black masks I'm shouting.
Already, I've lost you.
We fold time and plant fear.
Hold my grace and think death through.
Dreams burn and still she nears.
Take my souls and face true lust.
Slip Eros sans repartee.
Erotic prayers my angel thrusts.
Midnight's sultry air stirs through me.
In the valley of surrender.
Breathe my carnal savior.

Before soft steel and flesh come tender.
Swim beneath, not after.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6017 Feb 2, 2013
It took thirteen nights
and eleven subway stops for me
to get to her......

the husband had finally left town
on business, and
while the professional
in her wouldn't touch me,
her erotic, sexual, devilish side
couldn't wait for a fix.

there we sat with scotch and beer,
talking marriage and books
and the literary world.
at age 25, all of the above
had failed her.

I tried my best to understand,
but the next thing I knew
she had her mouth cupped around my balls.
where the editor said no,
she screamed yes.

she wanted it rough,
she wanted it raw,
and she didn't want it
in their bed.

on the living room floor we went,
rolling and sweating,
swapping spit,
forsaking the rules of the game.

I'd been at war with the likes of her
for years,
and here I had an hour to gain back
as much pride as I could.
it was hard alright,
but I made it twofold.

editors be damned.

poetry
ain't
dead....

No Ma'am !

Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6018 Feb 2, 2013
To define love.
You'll be baffled
bewildered and broken
by the end.

The cynical ones
will laugh,
say it's dead,
overused and cliche.
Why try write what
Whitman, Dickinson,
Frost and Shakespeare
have already covered?

The romantic ones
will wax on for hours
describing inner
and outer beauty
compared to anything
that strikes their eye.
Why can't you see
it's everywhere?

The hip ones
will scare you,
take a toke
then describe some
detailed sexual fantasy
involving tapioca
and a talking dildo
named Pony.

Ask a lawyer,
perhaps
they could tell you
the legal definition.

Ask your parents,
they will tell you
something trite.

Ask little kids
because their responses
are adorably hilarious.

Ask a dog
as it's humping
your leg.

Ask a scientist,
they will describe
the chemical reactions
in the brain.

Ask a prisoner,
they will tell you
it's something they miss.

But never ask a poet
to define love.

Your brain will hurt,
half your day gone
and you'll be left
heart broken
by the end.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6019 Feb 2, 2013
Dreams flower
in the silence of morning,
Fragile wishes
For tomorrow's tomorrows....


I feel her touch,
Tangible,
My heightened pulse
Aroused;
The wanton shivers,
Desirous and smitten;
The magma flows, deep in my soul;
Where her scorch of passion burns...

Embers sear, crimson,
Masquerading masked desires,
Dripping from her tongue's tip;
Sultry trickles graze upon my flesh,
A gentle sting, as fire-licks
Her breath across my thighs,
A bite of ecstasy, murmur-whispering
Sexual desire…

Imprints of insatiable,
Bind me willingly,
A fiery bandage
Piercing the scorch of hungry lips
Flaming her breasts;
With breath dissolved inside my kiss...


I savour the honey stream,
Branding her name upon my
Swelling, luscious pink…
Deeply buried
Arching into her mouth
Unable to contain the flame
Tambourines of skin seep ecstasy,
Ripen succulence untamed...


These kaleidoscoping emotions
Rainbow the thunder of my heart;
Milk and honey fuse,
Pulsing,
As rivers of love flood her core...
One love,
One passion,
One desire,
Bodies merging..........

Satin sheets move freely, as fingers linger on the pen........

insatiable desire, provoking thoughts of you....

Time once more, to Check_Your_Pulse ?

Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#6020 Feb 2, 2013
Written by CYP

Here by the window wrapped in my quilted blanket

Watching the snow fall in gentle waves to the frozen ground

I see your reflection in the window as you walk up behind me

Your hands on my hips

Firm

Strong

And

Promising

Yes I will share my blanket with you

But

Under one condition

Let us make snow angels naked

And

When we are done

You can bring heat back to my body

As we make love

By the fire

When we are through with our consumption

I will wrap you tightly in my quilted blanket

And

Kiss you softly goodnight
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6021 Feb 3, 2013
I must admit right at the outset
that I’ve never actually
had real sex with a female poet
or even underneath
or inside one.

But I thought about this
seriously
at a poetry reading once
when a particularly sensitive
and gentle girl read her poetry
and I wondered how well
the delicacy of her ideas
and subtlety of her poem
would translate into
the lascivious and profane.

It was sensuous to think about this
and savour some wine
with her afterwards.
I felt distinctly like
a priapic, dangerous Dionysius,
or a satyr sizing up a nymph.

But I licked my lips and
liked her poem and
knocked off the wine instead.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6022 Feb 3, 2013
The bite from the apple
Happened to match the
Crescent shape of the moon
Soon all that was blameless
Turned into a libidinous place
Where all is without
And puffed up
And fucked up
This bad luck
Will last forever
The foliage of the soul
Turned into dead branches
They’re breaking off
Piece by piece
Falling beneath
Into the fire of no return
Where all is without
And fucked up
And puffed up
This bad luck
Will last forever
Out numbered by atheists
Who’re always quick to judge
There is no charity left
The stone will not budge
And this bad luck
Could last forever......

Level 6

Since: Apr 12

Location hidden

#6023 Feb 3, 2013
All the genius poets on this forum.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6024 Feb 3, 2013
Why is poetry like an aria

Before an audiance unseen?

Why does my heart rise to the sound

That the maestro directs?



I am captivated at the thoughts

That my pen puts to paper.

I, but a paltry poet at best,

Seem to leave the music in my head.



I, the conductor who hears music

That is played, as in a symphony.

Yet cannot compose a melody

With words that remain in my head.



Yes, I am the writer, composer,

That can tell a sharp from a flat.

The melody may not come through,

For it remains in my heart.

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