JUST SEX and POETRY
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6684 Apr 26, 2013
The Letter she wrote to me.....

"In the winter I told you I think icicles are magic,
you stole an enormous icicle from a neighbors shingle
and gave it to me as a gift
I kept it in my freezer for seven months
until the day I hurt my foot
and needed something to reduce the swelling
Love isn’t always magic
sometimes it’s just melting
or it’s black and blue
where it hurts the most

Last night I saw your ghost
pedalling a bicycle with a basket
towards a moon as full as my heavy head
and I wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that basket
like ET with my glowing heart glowing right through my chest
and my glowing finger pointing in the direction of our home.

Two years ago I said I never want to write our break up poem;
you built me a time capsule full of big league chew
and promised to never burst my bubble
I loved you from our first date at the batting cages
when I missed 23 balls in a row
and you looked at me
like I was a home run in the ninth inning of the world series
Now every time I hear the word,‘love’, I think ‘going, going…’

The first week you were gone,
I kept seeing your hand wave goodbye
like a windshield wiper in a flooding car
in the last real moment I believed the hurricane would let me out alive.

Yesterday I carved your name into the surface of an ice cube
then held it against my chest ‘til it melted into my aching pores
Today I cried so hard the neighbors knocked on my door
and asked if I wanted to borrow some sugar
I told them I left my sweet tooth in your belly button.

Love isn’t always magic
but if I offered my life to the magician
if I told her to cut me in half
So tonight I could come to you whole
and ask for you back
would you listen
for this dark alley love song
for the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies?

I wrote you too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speak
But I know now it doesn’t matter how well I say grace
if I am sitting at a table where I am offering no bread to eat
So this is my wheat field;
you can have every acre, Love.

This is my garden song
This is my fist fight
with that bitter frost
Tonight I begged another stage light to become that back alley street lamp that we danced beneath the night your warm mouth fell on my timid cheek
as I sang, maybe I need you
off key
but in tune

Maybe I need you the way that big moon needs that open sea
Maybe I didn’t even know was here ‘til I saw you holding me
Give me one room to come home to
give me the palm of your hand
Every strand of my hair is a kite string
and I have been blue in the face with your sky
crying a flood, so your mother can wake to Venice

Lover, I smashed my glass slipper to build a stained glass window for every wall inside my chest Now my heart is a pressed flower and a tattered Bible
It is the one verse you can trust.

So I’m putting all of my words in your collection plate
I am setting the table with bread and grace
My knees are bent
like the corner of a page
I am saving your place."
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6685 Apr 26, 2013
Let me speak with expressive

hesitation and a feeling for

interment why even

lineate what isn’t broken by

music let me speak with

inextricable reluctance.

I want to tear the heart

from refused convalescence

and feed it those long fronds

of river bed grass. I want to

tear the heart out of style

and put it between

utter thrall & the infancy

of all things impure.

Torn out, a flame thickens

between us as if

not right now we’ll be

ripped from this life

or each other a white

lie not a little more tender

than quick. Inextricable

reluctance to die or even

leave youth culture ever.

What a stupid feeling.

Do you think it isn’t

true? The very existence

of flame throwers proves

that sometime, somewhere,

someone said to themselves

‘You know I want to

set those people over there

on fire but I’m just not

close enough to get the

job done.’ Someone

puts their arms around you

in the cold. There’s an al-

most disquieting closeness

as gossamer clots and

becomes an impasto derivative

of some newly visible

interdependence. Flame

throwers then are just

a description of prevailing

ideology, relics, the life

of the party, a soul

flirts by burning

that name for itself

up in jonesing that comes

at the end of desire?

Well I wouldn’t know

about that. A little

goat. Why would it

nuzzle dreamily up

the way I nuzzle dreamily

up to my knees. In the

‘fatal position’ as my

nephew used to call it

estranged from play

waiting on the fox hunt.

Oh baby

it beats up my lips

the somatic effects

of contriving a psychic

blockade against death

with the contours of your

face and healing

in constant eclipse

where all things

inextricably broken by

music make the basic

rhythmic unit go

something like this — I

don’t want to loose you. I

don’t want to be

empty, clever hold and

keep you. I was lost

to you to start with still

I keep on coming back.

Do you think you’ll

keep on coming back to me

forever? That’s the meaning

of our life together

baby.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6686 Apr 26, 2013
A Wife's Protest

Like a white snowdrop in the spring
From child to girl I grew,
And thought no thought, and heard no word
That was not pure and true.

And when I came to seventeen,
And life was fair and free,
A suitor, by my father's leave,
Was brought one day to me.

“Make me the happiest man on earth,”
He whispered soft and low.
My mother told me it was right
I was too young to know.

And then they twined my bridal wreath
And placed it on my brow.
It seems like fifty years ago —
And I am twenty now.

My star, that barely rose, is set;
My day of hope is done —
My woman's life of love and joy —
Ere it has scarce begun.

Hourly I die — I do not live —
Though still so young and strong.
No dumb brute from his brother brutes
Endures such wanton wrong.

A smouldering shame consumes me now —
It poisons all my peace;
An inward torment of reproach
That never more will cease.

O how my spirit shrinks and sinks
Ere yet the light is gone!
What creeping terrors chill my blood
As each black night draws on!

I lay me down upon my bed,
A prisoner on the rack,
And suffer dumbly, as I must,
Till the kind day comes back.

Listening from heavy hour to hour
To hear the church- clock toll —
A guiltless prostitute in flesh,
A murderess in soul.

Those church- bells chimed the marriage chimes
When he was wed to me,
And they must knell a funeral knell
Ere I again am free.

I did not hate him then; in faith
I vowed the vow “I will;”
Were I his mate, and not his slave,
I could perform it still.

Continues.......
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6687 Apr 26, 2013
.....But, crushed in these relentless bonds
I blindly helped to tie,
With one way only for escape,
I pray that he may die.

O to possess myself once more,
Myself so stained and maimed!
O to make pure these shuddering limbs
That loveless lust has shamed!

But beauty cannot be restored
Where such a blight has been,
And all the rivers in the world
Can never wash me clean.

I go to church; I go to court;
No breath of scandal flaws
The lustre of my fair repute;
For I obey the laws.

My ragged sister of the street,
Marked for the world's disgrace,
Scarce dares to lift her sinful eyes
To the great lady's face.

She hides in shadows as I pass —
On me the sunbeams shine;
Yet, in the sight of God, her stain
May be less black than mine.

Maybe she gave her all for love,
And did not count the cost;
If so, her crown of womanhood
Was not ignobly lost.

Maybe she wears those wretched rags,
And starves from door to door,
To keep her body for her own
Since it may love no more.

If so, in spite of church and law,
She is more pure than I;
The latchet of those broken shoes
I am not fit to tie.

That hungry baby at her breast —
Sign of her fallen state —
Nature, who would but mock at mine,
Has made legitimate.

Poor little “love- child”— spurned and scorned,
Whom church and law disown,
Thou hadst thy birthright when the seed
Of thy small life was sown.

O Nature, give no child to me,
Whom Love must ne'er embrace!
Thou knowest I could not bear to look
On its reproachful face.

Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6688 Apr 26, 2013
Sad, indeed,
Is a bird without wing,
Yet poems these days
Are replete
With such things.

Using metaphor, simile,
And comparative urge,
This sort of rhyme
Replaces the dirge.

But hark!
Whilst dirges have merit
in celebrating the deceased,
From these lugubrious maunderings,
Is there escape or release?

Since gloomy, indeed,
Might seem this poem's end,
Let's conjure it now -
Raise a glass high!
And to glad tidings portend.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6689 Apr 26, 2013
Dancing in the dark
Is a whole new thing to me,
Switching person to person,
Going from A to B,
The masquerade is haunted,
Who knows what lies behind?
The faces of your close friends,
Or those of your close enemies?

The twisting and the turning,
The rising and the fall,
The darkness is in corners,
And creeping up the hall.
We dance like we don't notice,
We dance like we don't care,
Yet something in me sees you,
But cannot quite be scared.

I leave my partner to see,
What creeps along the wall,
We join and start a tango,
Dance to the thrilling beat,
We move along quite quickly,
We dance into the dark,
The closeness is increasing,
With the beating of my heart.

I feel the darkness in you,
I know you are my foe,
Yet somehow I see through that,
And dance on anyhow.

Dancing moves of beauty,
Dancing moves of lust,
Breaking rules here with you,
But feeling like I must,
Your coldness pulls me closer,
My heat melts the ice,
But why now am I feeling,
My life is risked by dice?

I never leave my friends now,
I stick close to their side,
But sometimes I still wonder,
If you dance with mask with us.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6690 Apr 26, 2013
I awaken each morning with one thought on my mind,

What is she doing and will she share it with me today

Or must we wait again, and pass another empty day

Thinking of the past we shared of a different kind.

Once we entwined in a fantastic vision of lust

That happened as we shared our online passion

The kind that is now the very height of fashion

For those who never meet face to face in trust

But only allow themselves to touch in untruths

Passing for reality, playing with their bodies alone

With their hands, excited as they emit a lonely moan

While the other repeats it as if in separate booths.

She became the reason to return each night

As we met in rooms of words and fake feeling

At home our fingers were sending our minds reeling

with a passionate, heart-felt sense this was right.

But there were reasons to change, to become more

As we felt the truth of our real values and trust

Become the reason to talk and with love entrust

Our souls to each other as mates evermore.

So now, each day, across the world we try

To send out with words what our bodies can't

The reality of eternal love and respect that shan't

Be the end, but a chance for love to soar and fly.

“Want A Friend, Be One”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

Just Collecting Points..

#6691 Apr 26, 2013
you can say sorry a million times,say I love you as much as you want,say whatever you want,whenever you want,but if you're not going to prove that the things you say are true,then don't say anything at all because if you can't show it,your words don't mean anything...

:0)got from net(O:

“ROCK ON ROCKERS!!”

Level 8

Since: Mar 11

Rockin' USA ;)

#6692 Apr 26, 2013
Princess Hey wrote:
you can say sorry a million times,say I love you as much as you want,say whatever you want,whenever you want,but if you're not going to prove that the things you say are true,then don't say anything at all because if you can't show it,your words don't mean anything...
:0)got from net(O:
WOW!! Princess THAT is so RIGHT ON!!..Words are spoken..BUT, when ya add action behind the word..Then it becomes REALITY!! How are ya Chick??

“Want A Friend, Be One”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

Just Collecting Points..

#6693 Apr 26, 2013
im good how are you???things are better..you know..thats true C.C.

“ROCK ON ROCKERS!!”

Level 8

Since: Mar 11

Rockin' USA ;)

#6694 Apr 26, 2013
Princess Hey wrote:
im good how are you???things are better..you know..thats true C.C.
So happy to hear that you are well...Waiting for the hot water to get scalding hot..to take a Bubble Bath...Mr. Bubbles and meeee.. OOH LA LA..BABE!!
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6695 Apr 26, 2013
She was an afterthought, one could assume,
Just a throwaway bit of loose baggage.
Accepting the offer, not to presume.
Astonishing brightness came out of gloom.

Her female love betrayed, took a new road,
Believing that his was the only page
To be read in the book of this new code,
Admitting addiction, submission owed.

Who could expect it, the call was a strain,
From one who was unknown, seeking a mage
To magically soothe and salve the great pain
That followed the hurt, to seek to explain.

Certainly unsought, her loss untoward.
Left adrift, bereft, no part in this stage
Of the act they were playing, dancing towards,
Seemingly seeking sensual reward.

Now it was my turn, I gave what I had
And it was enough as I was to gauge
By the lift of spirits, no longer sad.
Openly cheered up, but not really glad.

It grew and matured, this new dawn of ours.
We shared, compared, no darkness would presage
To ever destroy our golden hours
Of loving, blooming like passion flowers.

Simple and effortless, time it was passed
In thought, reflection, without the outrage
Of loss that brought us together, outcast,
And we could share friendship, and more, at last.

The heavens returned to my life once more
A faun in her vision, a wit, a sage.
This kept me young, helped me fight to restore
The brightness, lightness, her soul to adore.

No doubts, no retreat would ever occur
As her faith and honor could never age
Even when someone she loved would bestir
To give back the sweet love once known to her.

My duty is clear, I follow the vow,
I never give up the battle I wage,
And ever let shine my honor as now,
My faith, my love, my oath I do endow.

And now, adored, I will never grow old,
Because of the vows that love does engage.
And her eyes will twinkle, always grow bold.
A fairy tale story always gets told.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6696 Apr 26, 2013
When we fit in to the bath

we fit in to one another.

There is something so close

being so naked, so gentle.

Your hand at my nape,

my hand at your toes.

Candlelight flickers and flatters.

Sweat trickles through hairline

and our words splash.

As old cells are cast off,

heat enters bones

and our talk becomes

confessional.

Open waters

Open pores

Open minds

Open hearts.

When I bath alone I have to sing

to make myself soak longer.

With you I would stay in forever.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6697 Apr 27, 2013
I recall her pubic hair as ferny vegetation, thick,and black.

Amazing... there she lay upon her wide and undulating back with one leg thrown, the other raised at knee, the whole scene lit with a muted streetlight's desire to see.

With one arm waiting behind her easy, calm and contemplative head, and her pillowed eyes whispering from that breezy single bed, we aboundingly but for such a short time shared, there, her limpid nudity, there unrestrained, after less than a week was bared.

...I did more than look, I stared to between her opened cream-and-tawny thighs, as, thick, full and black that hair, refined, light, so youthfully crinkled, crisped, close-textured and often tack with the sheening fluids we each in the other made overflow as we looted desire and time of passionate, sensual undertow.

It was at all odd hours that I fingered that hair for long and long while she smiled at all the pleasures there.

Over weeks, over long, clean, verve-curved thighs my leaping hands celebrated, and my fascinated eyes saw how well defined was the suddenly rising edge of pubic hair from her warmly summered skin.

A hedge, almost one of luxurious contrast to the near-transparent female grass upon her thighs and lower abdomen.

Black! Black! to the last: bushy, all natural scented; firmly intimate hair all in-skin knotted ferfectly round her flesh so belling, churning, welling out, Ahh, so lingeringly, lust-besotted......

Glistening head rest between
a wet tongue dripping into
the curvy indentation of a throbbing delight
shift and slide ...shutter...and moans
manipulating shaft grasp
mouth grabs sucking with pleasure
hands move down to your great ass
setting into my finger rub

My mouth above licking every wet drip that falls from your open slit. mounting and moaning deep inside, stroking firmly your manhood in the cave of my mouth. pumping you into me with a passionate flight to be freed inside the depths of me...no holding back....

give it to me baby, give it your all
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6698 Apr 27, 2013
"ROUGE NOIR>"

(She......)

Breathe in the air provided me by the unknown patron,
feeling shamefully ungrateful as I return it jagged.

He watches me.

I fold my right thigh over my left
to vainly conceal how easily
he could cause them to turn away from each other
like enemies.

He observes me as a scientist examining a new creature
discovered in a remote jungle,
brought back to civilization
for the mere pleasure of his insatiable curiosity.

I feel like the star exotic dancer
lying stretched on a glass slide
under light and lens.

As I am drenched in his bottomless gaze,
I feel a part of me I have not yet met.
A lone tear of sweat licks my face
from forehead to chin
as I imagine his tongue might.

He swallows.

A woman all in white intrudes,
his name dripping off her lips,
I triumphantly catch the sound
like a bullet in my teeth.
His footsteps echo the sudden
relentless chant of the wall clock
and his backwards glance drapes
and tickles like sheer red curtains
as the bullet melts like a dark truffle under my tongue.
The nurse locks the door behind him.

The keyhole oiled,
I exhale,
unfold my thighs like a love letter,
and continue to wait.....

I am surrounded by cocks

not unemployed ones
but penises magically
suspended without puppet strings,
warriors braced for the sword fight,
giants' fingers pointing at me
because (thank God) I am the holiest
in the room.

I am impaled through every pore,
no opening left open,
and it is sweet
like hard butterscotch candy

sucked slowly.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6699 Apr 27, 2013
Sweet reluctant sin,
How bitter you are,
I cannot quit you.

Your touch burning hot,
And yet my hand still reaches for you,
Afraid of being caught my him.

Cold, withering sin,
I despise you.

And yet here I am,
You and me,
Hand in hand.......
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6700 Apr 27, 2013
Baby, what if I were to taste you, pour liquor from my mouth in your lips
Would you let me pull you to me, savor the closeness, your breath against my fingertips ?

Can I take your tongue and suck the sweetness and the burn of the alcohol that resides there
Ease myself down comfortably straddle you in a chair

Will the movement of my lips across your neck and whispering in your ear
Lovingly stroking your face with my soft cheek and taking away all your secret fears

Pressed thighs, I look into your eyes Licking my lips
Your arms around me encircling my narrow hips
A shot I feed you a nice burning taste followed by my playful kiss
Sucking the liquid from my mouth, lips conjoined tight in a twist

My hands on your face, my hair covering our delicious endeavour
Hot liquid racing in my stomach and I'm feeling really excited I want to make you mine forever
I want to pour this entire bottle of alcohol all over your body and use my lips to savor all its glory

The licking and sucking that would just be the beginning of a beautiful story.....
MalbarCACA Controllers

Luton, UK

#6701 Apr 27, 2013
PERSONIFICATION DeVINE wrote:
Baby, what if I were to taste you, pour liquor from my mouth in your lips
Would you let me pull you to me, savor the closeness, your breath against my fingertips ?
Can I take your tongue and suck the sweetness and the burn of the alcohol that resides there
Ease myself down comfortably straddle you in a chair
Will the movement of my lips across your neck and whispering in your ear
Lovingly stroking your face with my soft cheek and taking away all your secret fears
Pressed thighs, I look into your eyes Licking my lips
Your arms around me encircling my narrow hips
A shot I feed you a nice burning taste followed by my playful kiss
Sucking the liquid from my mouth, lips conjoined tight in a twist
My hands on your face, my hair covering our delicious endeavour
Hot liquid racing in my stomach and I'm feeling really excited I want to make you mine forever
I want to pour this entire bottle of alcohol all over your body and use my lips to savor all its glory
The licking and sucking that would just be the beginning of a beautiful story.....
Is that Juicylu you keep writing about LoverBOY?
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6702 Apr 27, 2013
Her tears are icemist diamonds shearing shards

Her tears are bloodred rubies rich arching aching scars

Form inside the heart of stars

She's plasma storming over interstellar plains

The crackle of alien lightening blooms like fantastic boquets

Of roses growing madly in her veins

A blanket of purple caress

Come away tonight, yes? unless

The gate swings open against fate you tried

To find the way does not exist to come inside

Such a strained way to view the upside down
looking glass

So let it pass in time it will

Still, like a magic tattoo inked upon the lips

All those little sips of her allowed yet denied

Shining like the night alive with all those icemist stars

Her tears are bloodrubies rich arching aching scars....
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#6703 Apr 28, 2013
It is as quiet as the death of the dead no one knows

everywhere outside of your room,

where you dance all alone like before.

But there too I hear

what you don’t say

the way I want to hear it.

Far from bedraggled England,

where the deathly haze will soon descend,

we stare at each other,

almost dead like plastic chairs,

and neither you nor I admits the murder of me or you.





Lying on the black rubber floor,

the autumn leaf, yellowed over the weekend.

Greedily you nibble on an ice cube

shaped like a heart.

November comes and brings the bitter half

of the year in with it.

Time to reconsider.

If I were a bog body, would you love me?

Senile, would you laugh at me?

You nibble on me, but not really,

I’m too old and cold for that.

Cupid, a little brat made of cement,

arrives on cue and smashes to pieces on the floor.





Mountains with coyotes and rattlesnakes,

in the valley, the stinking cars,

and in the bed with twelve pillows, you on your back.

You too will lose your shine and your teeth,

but not this afternoon.

Although your mumbling has already paled

as you stumble short-sightedly out of bed.

You, once made of marble, with hair sprayed green,

grow more and more absorbed

in a story about yourself

even while listening like a blind woman

for, somewhere overseas, the beep

of the alarm in the watch on your lover’s wrist.





What I know on the eve of November first?

That hemp should be sown at midnight,

that last week you tasted of ginger,

that the great cold will descend on a night like tonight,

that you smile at me like a cross-eyed nurse,

that the sun seeds cancer in the lung, the moon in the womb,

that it’s time to burn all the cardboard boxes

from the old days before I forget,

that everyone feeds off someone else,

that you’re like the hills of Carmel,

shining and as salty as the sea,

my hobbled doe, my model with a dose,

my nun who hungers for clothes and mirrors and

the orgasms of men who growl,

and that you groan in your sleep without me.

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