Best Deep Throat Poems


Premium Member Killing Me Softly

I am a duck, call me deep throat
You are killing me softly
With the food I must devour
I am a seal
You invited me to a club
And you killed me softly
I am a heifer
You will kill me softly too
You will coral me, of this I am sure
I am a pig
And for this you will kill me
Softly I am not so sure
You may even call me Canadian!
Don’t forget me!! I am a chicken
My crime was crossing the road!!!
And now you eat me!!!!
Now you humans will prepare your feasts
Fry us all to feed your desires
Please let’s not forget the salt for old wounds
Ah
We will kill you softly
Revenge is sugary sweet

Deep Throat

I put all of it in my mouth
Big and strong you can tell what’s it all about
Wind pipes on shut down, 
There’s no air to breath
My face stuffed 
You can taste the smoothness of it 
Surely it indulges my senses
Ahh…
Oh my 
What a creation 
I get goosebumps
Every time it comes into my mouth
The saliva in my mouth keeps on increasing
As I slowly suck it from one point and barely getting to the other
My hand small enough to handle the other side 
As I take it 
In and out
In and out 
In and out of my mouth 
As my breathing changes every time 
Going faster 
And faster 
And faster
Taking no seconds to rest
As it penetrates through my lips 
And my tongue plays with the big juicy round part
I am hardly on feet 
For every moment astonishes me
It doesn’t soften up 
It doesn’t go light
It’s just big strong and round 
Lollipop kid's candy

Premium Member Train

Oh no! Train again!

Perched upon parallels of steel,
You roll your way on heavy wheels.
Thundering through town
With a rhythmic rattle and clickity-clack.
Your deep throat rumbles diesel black.
Cars convey a cargo of corn syrup,
Commuters and coal.
You are an ant trail of steel
Packing prizes from a picnic port.
You are the artery of America’s life blood.

--Four full sets of dominoes 
Laid in one long row.
--A segmented serpent
Slithering on shining steel.
--A bright-eyed Cyclops screaming in the night,
Awakening children with a fright.
--A termite traveling through boroughs
Beneath the “Big Apple”.

You are the canvas of gangland graffiti
And ferry for freight hoppers
Who dare to hitch a ride.

A network linking limits sea to sea.
Now, rattle past, and make it fast.
I’ve places I should be.

My Tenth Beer and You

You disappeared like foam on a slow rolling wave
You sang a deep-throat song like from a small creature
Your gaze sang songs of sad sunrises to me
You shook my world leaving me by Life's roadside

On dark alleys running through my imagination
You sought people with sad souls 
I became confused, your sadness overwhelmed me 
your discontent hung like lone shadows on a barren hillside

Lover's pain is meant to teach fragile lessons of the heart
The pain you inflicted on me is an open wound I hide in my soul 
I'm not naive, I know that life is not a frivolous party
but neither should it be all pain  

A peaceful anxiety engulfs me
As I sit wafting through the winter of my sorrow 
trying to make sense of us
you were my chosen one, I chose my pain
You are not to blame

You were the guiding star in my life for a short minute
my father should have warned me
women like you come soft and cuddly like kittens
but leave in a fiery destructive storm 

But it's too late now, 
you are with him wherever you are
and I am here sitting on the floor sobbing
embracing my tenth beer.

Premium Member Goosebumps

Electrical

Tiny dermal vibrations

Tingly, soft of exquisite texture

Warm, of porcelain delicacy and tone

Your skin pulse mixes with the thrum of mine

Tender touches cuing tiny shivers of your surfaces

Small flutters where my fingertips dance, barely brushing

Squeaky little deep-throat moans tell me it's what you're desiring

I continue my touch games as I trace sexy words on you

Little hand prances that make your soft places jump

Shudders and sighs as I explore every surface

Sensual journeys that end in the spots

That only I know of and attend

With special caresses

The sensual rash

Goosebumps.

Sexual...Sensation

She told me that she had some good, but I didn't believe her though.
How she would make my toes curl & take every inch of me into her deep throat.
A sexual healing that would be a mystery to me.
An she wouldn't trip as I entered her tunnel of love & ran deep!
She professed to be a squirter & her wetness was unreal.
Few men had climbed her mountain, only to be captivated by her sexual skills!
A sexual demon that had been blessed with some A-1.
An all her victims had one thing in common: they were addicted & sprung!
Lol, surely she's a SEXUAL...SENSATION!

Swindle My Vapors

Only angry about the stupidity of my 
Forefather's miscalculations and 
Now living within an archaic formulae

This makes me undulate as a situation 
Spins new dna
Onto phantasmagorical
Fingertips whilst attempting connection

Maybe in the hopes of singing with pure diapragm
Yes
Deep throat and lung vibrations
Make the multitudes sway in rhythm

Can the cans 
Come on those worthy
Spill into the arroyo with spit laden lips
Shine like the corona splitting atoms
Never forgotten

Energy moving in pure elucidation might mean
Dogs on the highway
Fog on the bypass entrance
Songs from deep inside the limbic meaning a breath of
Freshly ground thought has some validity

I remember the women of my life
I recall the spectral moments so that
I retract no statements
Other than those
That brought out the gray

Deep Throat

first take charge with a sincere wink
lift high the enemy thigh surrounded by plain
the unique cluster of cup cakes at Costco
take me further away onto the space of a clearing

you evoke an excursion of throat
Deep Throat surrounded by Elms;
Andy Warhol soup cans
A touch of the hand when to understand

benefit the native eye to sing a quaint lula bye
reaching deeper then ever before
Secondly beyond all means
we swim in a cess pool of modern bliss

lay hold of the once human pride
take us further now on a brisk walk to unfold
crispy chicken with cheese
down on your knees...

Deep Throat capture the beauty of the pulse
Grand Canyon get away lifted without a filter
Such as Trump in his beloved hump
Captivated by a smile you have unique dial

Swim to the native land let the reader understand
true to taste make no mistake in forbidden soil
Bipolar unique way to its caged, primitive & unique
love is on the way I can see it in her eyes

Deep Throat, climb the ladder to unfold
the Marylnn Monroe dress scene with the air up her dress
learn the basics of sin were to begin again
lift high the American dream,

How you have fought so hard and fierce
My one solution is gone from here
A challenge to be is a question of time
my one solution is using my mind

Strip back the curtains to expose the breasts
eager to remind me of my ways

Premium Member Searching the Clouds

VICKI ACQUAH·MONDAY, MAY 15, 2017

Blue skies are for lovers;
Not for mourners, and mothers.
I am searching the clouds.
Any sign would relieve my mind.
Needing the clouds, as weeds need the rain.
Slow pace, searching for a face;
Rain drizzle falls drearily, befitting my mood.
Searching those formatting gasses and vapors.
For an outline, or any clue.
” No news is not good news”
Her leaving was abrupt.
Is she one of the loved one’s hovering,
waiting for us to look up?
Looking up at the clouds, asking out loud
“Is that her face peering
out of the gray and pink cloud?
Could those be her wings?
fluttering in the wind?
I am deep throat muttering,
“Kai is that you”?
” No news is not good news”
Her leaving was abrupt.
Is she one of the loved one’s hovering,
waiting for us to look up?

Sinful Imagination Ii

Demonic spirit possessed my mind,
I pray for a blessings but get a breast, 
I take a clear view to free my mind, 
Then!! Here comes the long awaiting lady 
Waiting to be pound.. I took a side view and fantasize her bareness as she send an eyes contact with a signal of approval 

I undressed her quickly, nudity bare with brilliancy and beauty..
nipples long like needle, 
I suckle and tickle,
Nipple size increases 
Her breasts elate with joy,  
Wiggle and dangle..
My hand loosely caress..
One hand caress her clapping buttocks 
I go gentle to and fro beneath the sweetest hole.. her hands holds and rob my testicle..

Tongue kisses deep.. tongue beneath..
******** licked, excitement aroused..
A Hot hole tunnel wet...
she loose!..Heartbeat fast!!.Breath cease
Legs wide open..

She moan aloud for my ******** to deep into her depth.. Perfect adjustment, slowly I penetrate deeper, she give me a good atmosphere, with variation and a tighter sensation, deep and slow, pull out her ass up and down for a good penetrative action..

 After a sweet missionary, with pleasure and satisfaction, she wrapped her lips and suck me gently, deep throat, she tickled my balls and testicle.. I moan aloud!!..

She enhanced me as i go over and over with variations, she adjust perfectly, submissively, wider, harder i hit her behind with a fantastic view, ****** reached as we lay down in glory 

Alas!! I was dispossessed and i realized it was all but a fantasy, fallacy and a SINFUL IMAGINATION

Premium Member The Deeds That We Do, But Never Discuss

What good is love, when guys and girls are whores?
     What use are we, when all is the libido?
Good girls on their backs, bad girls on all fours,
     secretly swoon for guys like the Mandingo! 

Like “Deep Throat,” all women like giving oral; 
     and men just ask them if they spit or swallow?
Some men prefer to give a woman a**l;
     and whether he's the Greek god of Apollo,

she'll act as though she loves it (bondage; gangbangs;
     facials; threesomes; hotwifing with hung, black bulls;
and cuckolding—if guys could mount like Mustangs!).
     Despite all of their lusting for pussyfuls,

men just want a loving lady of the Nile,
     a beauty, an angel that is his maiden;
but a sweet talker, a prince charming with style,
     women die for (a philandering Satan!).

O, the deeds that we do, but never discuss:
     for The Age of P**n, we bend the knee as slaves!
Honor in public, without moral compass,
     are deadly secrets taken to the graves.

Nine Eleven

Do you think that our Heavenly Father wants you to kill
To take another life; is that what some think ? Albeit clear
Why many may feel such this way: given all the darkness spreading
It's wings like a green bay leaf tree permeating lucid's world with her whoredom
Spreading distainful's thighs while promoting all these lies and, Satan's concubines ?
Doing jocular's deep throat upon humankind swallowing the jism of another's prism....
Grabbing your machetes strapping dynamite unto Creation's daughters refining, nuclear
Waste as if you weren't a disease in itself ? Finely tuning as developing Prophecy's serial killers.

Not Me


Trump in court is not what black people want to hear.
We have a kinship with people terrorized for years.
I explained the reason in poem a time or two before.
I will never deep-throat like an American whore.

As an ex-soldier who dropped down in parachutes.
This killing of civilians, I could never get used to.
Deep-throating muthaaz, just ain’t my style.
I give water and food to any starving hungry child.

I cannot stand the tricks being played on me.
I voice my vote on what I actually see.
No anointed individual will ever be my choice.
When you deep-throat the killing of young boys.

Comma

pausing on 
behalf of those that
want you to
walk quicker, to 
step on it,
to “be all that you 
can” be (clocked in
to their own rat 
race which you have taken
part in because you
feel that if you don’t
then the world 
around you will 
stop turning & from 
there on out everything that
you once knew will
crumble around your
feet all because you 
refused to play the game
& be one of the folks that
stands around that water 
cooler babbling about 
each other’s sex lives &
who is more of an 
alcoholic than the others &
who might get fired this
week if they don’t get
down on all fours & beg 
to keep on sucking that
big ol’ corporate ***** 
which they will flail in your
face a thousand time over 
until you can taste nothing
but sweaty ejaculate) in the
name of all that is 
profit-making & business 
worthy, market savvy & 
expedient within the context
of an executive nature of 
things---swing that briefcase
sweet servant & pretend that
what you do now will improve
your chances of not having to
deep-throat slimy corporate
dong for the rest of your 
life---you didn’t sell your 
soul, no---you sold your right
to speak of ever having one.

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