Tag Archives: doggy-style

new wave

30 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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bind down your breasts strap this on I’ll dress you
up like Freddie Mercury—-in hot pants

and a cute glue-on mustache why make-do
with rum sodomy and the lash? romance

dictates that we’ll both look fabulous in
all that we wear romance states that we can

that we will doggy-style all night skin sin
and up against the wall so what began

as a lark playing dolls ended like this
all my heroes are sixteen and pregnant

slowly until you’re all the way in deep
then pull let the tip of your strap-on kiss

the O of my ass crying “shan’t won’t can’t”
crying like you’re the first to make me weep

doggy-style means nothing

26 Monday Nov 2012

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Down in the sunless depths of clay she sank.
Shocked and flushed as a star for a bridal
dress. Now shrouded. A chain across her blank
breast. The dead have forgotten sex. Babel
Tower Tongue-Fuck Doggy-style means nothing.
The noise they make sounds like weeping waters.
Aghast, she was at the point of cumming
when Death took her, still tasting of reefers
and gin. Cunnilingus interruptus;
Limbo by any other name. How low
would you go? Who would school you in lewdness
if your soul depended on it? I know
all souls do. How low? Today you shall learn
all the ways I make sure that you don’t burn.