Sex Lust Scent

wrapped in satin
sex-lust scent
my perfume

kiss wicked desires
on my thighs
~decadent ones

shatter my softness
with stone edges
of you

rhythm of one
you and I
'til dawn comes

Night Falls

Night stands
alone in its darkness
yet not lonely.
Many lovers have
risen and fallen
under its mantle.

As you and I do.

We are hungry-handed lovers
reaching and groping;
a mad rush
to sate lust
under the mantle
of night;

alone, yet not lonely.

An Ode...

Ode to the Penis

Written in 1985

Oh sweet pleasure machine
you hardly are ever seen
packed inside a pair of tight jeans.
Though you don't look too lean,
if ever deprived I would turn quite mean;
rant and rave like an upset teen.

Oh heavenly member
I dearly do remember
all the passionate times
you were never limber
all hot and ready like a glowing ember.

Oh handsome prick
the one I'll always pick
to love, kiss and lick.
Who cares if your on Tom, Harry or Dick
as long as you're able
to give me a first-rate stick.
No other part of the anatomy
could bestow such a great kick.

Oh glorious cherry taker,
you create me a virtue forsaker.
I'll never be an orgasmic faker
cause of your assorted techniques,
you estacy maker.

Oh Blessed God,
Let my lovers all have a fine bod
with a hot loaded wad,
nothing antique but completely mod
with variated techniques
both standard and odd.

(I swear there should be a law against horny co-eds writing poetry
while drunk)

Taste

It's 1:45 pm and I can still taste your lust on my face;
the scent of copper and musk.
Mornings are the best time to feast on the sins of passion,
the tangy flavor of our mortal souls battling our desires.
There is little time for inhibitons that shiver in fear
of consuming fire ignited by our heat.
After we're spent, and morning light bathes us,
we'll find time to remember that daily life has arrived.
Somehow we'll survive it, because we have the taste of us
lingering, heavenly on our lips; passion's kiss burnt there.