If this is shame first finger her unconscious I will eat the sinful flesh for hours …
quote unquote
03 Sunday May 2015
Posted in Erotic, quote unquote
≈ Comments Off on quote unquote
Tag Archives: cunnilingus
11 Saturday Apr 2015
Tags
cunnilingus, erotic poetry, haiku, mamma’s moan, night blossom, perverse verse, tongue-flicked flower
her tongue-flicked flower
mamma’s moan, the night blossoms
into perverse verse
GLITCH IN THE FOG
11 Saturday Apr 2015
Tags
bad posture, bad rites, bad teeth, Besos de un fantasma, Cádiz ghost, cunnilingus, erotic poetry, glitch in the fog, lick her karma, palpitations, poem, sonnet, Spanish teenage demons
[[“besos fantasmas,” kisses from your favorite ghost, darling]]
Kiss like an omen. Kiss like its doomsday.
Cold bled lips. “Besos de un fantasma,”
as my lover, a Cádiz ghost, would say.
Swell. Her ozone. When I lick her karma
she melts. Love has no rules, which is why
I’m so bad at it. There should be rites, witch
craft, blood oaths; anything to defy
expectations. I ruined her death, glitch
in the fog, by calling her only half
way home. I’m a lousy fish. I keep her
asleep in my small eye. Palpitations;
she wakes, crawls out with a kiss and a laugh.
I love it all bad: bad teeth, bad posture,
bad rites and bad Spanish teenage demons.
6-word story
11 Saturday Apr 2015
from between your thighs
lovely milk-mustache
omit
31 Tuesday Mar 2015
“Suckle my flesh.” There should be more, of course,
something about, “your kisses on my clit,”
“your two fingers inside,” and “my voice, hoarse,
urgent,” “my flesh sweating, flushed.” I omit
the rest because this isn’t about that.
Somewhere a girl sleeps on flagstones, under
thatch-roof and dry-stone walls. A witch’s brat
who knows nothing about lust, that other
magic. No, not even that. So, what then?
Quote from the Torah, Bible or Koran
about female nature being sinful?
Hell no! We go down to the beach, again,
naked breasts wearing shadows of a tan,
watching waves rush in and out like a bull.
fantasma guloso [greedy ghost]
20 Friday Mar 2015
Posted in Erotic, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation
≈ Comments Off on fantasma guloso [greedy ghost]
“I had almost forgotten how good it is to be licked – kissed – smeared –”
Be for me the language
that redeems me.
Mortal flesh is weak, but
I am apocalyptic: she-devil
in heat.
I am your horny sister
cursed with
chastity.
“Greedy Ghost.” (desire
takes shape) “Feel this wet tongue
slide and your juice returns
to condition of the living.”
][][
“Eu quase havia esquecido como é bom ser lambido – beijado – lambuzado –”
Seja comigo uma língua
que me redime.
Carne mortal é fraca, mas
eu sou apocalíptica: um diaba
no cio.
Eu sou o seu tesão irmã
amaldiçoado com
castidade.
“Fantasma guloso.” (desejo
toma corpo) “Sentir a língua molhada
deslizar enquanto o teu suco retorna
à condição de vivos.”
gosto [taste]
20 Friday Mar 2015
Posted in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation
≈ Comments Off on gosto [taste]
Tags
cunnilingus, gosto, poem, Poetry, Portuguese translation, taste
TASTE
Full of the mystery of taste.
Reckless with my mouth.
Throbbing fruit
fresh. My mouth
on your skin. A light kiss
with the touch
of the tongue.
Suck your
fruit; with a grip,
howling, and hair
pulling. Strange
fruit.
][][
GOSTO
Plena do gosto da mistério.
Afoita com minha boca.
Latejando de fruta
fresca. Minha boca
na teu pele. Um leve beijo
com o toque
da língua.
Chupo teu
fruto; com um aperto,
um urro, e puxão
de cabelo. Fruto
estranho.
Bilac’s DELÍRIO
20 Friday Mar 2015
Posted in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation
≈ Comments Off on Bilac’s DELÍRIO
Olavo Bilac, Delirium
Naked since love doesn’t need shame
In my her mouth I pressed.
And, as for carnal thrills, she said:
“Lower down, baby, I want your kiss!”
Crude, unconsciousness of my desire
Trembling, my mouth obeyed,
And I bit her taut breasts
So that she gasped like broken chords.
In endless sighs of joys
She told me, still almost crying:
“Lower down, baby!” – All in a frenzy.
On her belly I laid my mouth,
“Lower, baby!” – She said, crazy,
Puritans, forgive me! but I obeyed …
][]][
Delírio
Nua, mas para o amor não cabe o pejo
Na minha a sua boca eu comprimia.
E, em frêmitos carnais, ela dizia:
– Mais abaixo, meu bem, quero o teu beijo!
Na inconsciência bruta do meu desejo
Fremente, a minha boca obedecia,
E os seus seios, tão rígidos mordia,
Fazendo-a arrepiar em doce arpejo.
Em suspiros de gozos infinitos
Disse-me ela, ainda quase em grito:
– Mais abaixo, meu bem! – num frenesi.
No seu ventre pousei a minha boca,
– Mais abaixo, meu bem! – disse ela, louca,
Moralistas, perdoai! Obedeci …
note:
Olavo Brás Martins dos Guimarães Bilac (1865 – 1918) was a Brazilian poet, journalist and translator. This poem comes from his, Poesias (1888)
[clit] [spark] [return]
03 Friday Oct 2014
Tags
cunnilingus, gear moaning blues, ghost lover, Holy Spirit, La Llorona, poem, Poetry, Slag Pile Annie, sonnet, spit-drool sparked
Kissing rust between
thighs to make that dead
clit spark return veiled
in blues gear that
screams circuits twitch,
they all know it: A
to Zed ghosts are not
in machines, they are
machines that must
rot and rust alone
in the dark. Holy Spirit?
La Llorona? Slag Pile
Annie? What shouldn’t
survive is the spark.
Power fades. All suns
die. Yet we defile
the night with electric
lights. We are tools.
Thinking apes are
machines and when
we die who knows
not you. I went down
on a ghost once, it
was like licking raw
wire. Spit-drool sparked.
I held her there; until
her low sigh of bliss
faded … like a machine, almost.
][][
Kissing rust between thighs to make that dead
clit spark return veiled in blues gear that screams
circuits twitch, they all know it: A to Zed
ghosts are not in machines, they are machines
that must rot and rust alone in the dark.
Holy Spirit? La Llorona? Slag Pile
Annie? What shouldn’t survive is the spark.
Power fades. All suns die. Yet we defile
the night with electric lights. We are tools.
Thinking apes are machines and when we die
who knows not you. I went down on a ghost
once, it was like licking raw wire. Spit-drool
sparked. I held her there; until her low sigh
of bliss faded … like a machine, almost.
lick me here, swamp thing
05 Saturday Jul 2014
Tags
Cthulhu, cunnilingus, glowing green, haiku, poem, Poetry, Swamp Thing
waiting for thunder
lightning along your green tongue
kiss me here, swamp thing
][
plagued by spring fever
wind parting long curling grass
licking red marsh earth
][
it won’t ever end
it won’t get any better—
this need to be loved
][
under all these stars
addicted to dark matter
Cthulhu, I cum
memories of my ghost sista 