Best Ejaculation Poems
Her heartbeat echoes like a love moan in my mind,
summoning centuries of refined romanticism soulfully enshrined,
the contralto of her voice a fillatio upon the cock of my consciousness,
through her eyes I see that mystery is the Mistress of meaning beyond regress,
my manly mouth serenades & suckles the rosy pussy of her prophecy, homage cunnilingus,
revelations irresistible in their heretical invigorations excite our imaginations
as we fornicate a ferocious forsooth soothsaying love's reincarnations,
a vignette of virility forthcoming from fate's far side fortifications
presents a primal promise in paranormal inceptions,
Premonitions primitive in heart heat paint
streak the skin of our desire to design an indigenous heaven,
flesh tones warm fast and feral revealing a vitality of spirituality that tongues detonate,
the Universe blooms into a Multiverse as she spreads her spell of star spice scintillation
onto my ripened body rendering her rites fertile in rich freight,
within the brain's wildfire I feel her unction,
Becoming the shaman of our secret skin ceremony
I invoke the spirit of solar youth into veinage voracious for passion's patronage,
sanctifying the unifying lust between the bodily and ghostly unlicensed liberty,
shadow temple of temptation gives offering of blood and song from astral page,
death dream extremes fire hot ejaculation of divine vindication into cosmogony
as she and I have won our now with a win over age,
My Love Muse is more than a woman
she is a savage seduction and a sacred sweetness,
a Goddess of her own Cause...a lover known as Poetess,
her name changes from lifetime to lifetime, yet she is always beauty shown -
J.A.B.
Love,
Is that a word,
Or the foundation of all mountains of speeches?
Is love a whisper or an ejaculation?
A prayer, or a plea?
Why is it that love crescendos off the tongue
Like caramel in symphony?
Why does it melt me,
As if by heaven God made me an iceberg,
To later fall in the heat of destiny like my enemies?
Love,
Is it woman,
Man?
Is it the softness of your hand,
Or the coarse scratch against a rocky sand?
You say you love me so simply, genuinely
What is it my mind cannot comprehend,
As my eyes zoom in to your wanting lips,
The almost anticipated sound saintly slips
Love,
A fraction to my experience,
And a lifetime left of its dark and intimate peaks. . .
In these mountains of words,
How does one sleep?
How shall we rest willingly in the dangerous unknown,
With you and I alone?
Love,
I love you too..
How can I not when all of its footprints lead back to you?
Love is as simple as the word yearning on your mouth
As deep as the dark, undiscovered creatures of the sea
Though, most of all,
As far as I dare feel and see,
As simple as it sounds,
And God must well agree,
Love is you and me
Pelvic desires arise when turning manic!
It's an all-powerful ejaculation
(from mania that feels keenly orgasmic)
Pelvis and loins ablaze like fantastic,
and engorged with such climaxed sensation;
Pelvic desires arise when turning manic!
Eros peaks, then runs wild and Jurassic;
and hunts for instant gratification
(from mania that feels keenly orgasmic!)
To burn with unrestrained lust is horrific;
but the red-hot flames of this condition
force coitus to break out when turning manic:
oh! to explode without control like a sex addict,
and copulate with total abandon
(when mania feels so keenly orgasmic!).
So, call it mad, but don't call it poetic:
this disease demands total expression.
These pelvic desires arise when turning manic,
from a mania whose possession is so fiercely orgasmic.
Dredged from the depths of a shaken Sennen seashell
she hears once more his voice, low, sonorous tones, sees the bones
of her past laid out, splayed out, another story
playing out, can feel it in her bones,
his voice burrowing in, deep beneath skin,
a cold blade digging in, the tide coming in,
shrouds of sea mist closing in, the veil blowing thin,
membranes of memory breaking...She sees anew the drowning seas,
sees for the first time his strangling hands,
pebbly skulls, seaweed ropes, skeletal fingers of coral
forcing bone-white wrecking lights into her cove...
Bone-bleached semen strands, Sennen's strand stretching
soiled sand before her like life or fate, grains like pulverised bones.
His dark-dune lurking, water-window watching,
waiting for riptides; a ripping of fabric, ripping of hymen,
sea-hymns now silent on salt-sheened lips
plump-pouty with youth. It's sordid, uncouth,
the salt sprinkle of sea-sweat sheening his skin,
the breath and the fingers quickening,
the coral's rough rigidity piercing, ejaculation of sea foam...
Buried deeper than bones, the sudden rush of memory waves
rattling bones of the past, shaking Sennen seashells.
Gulls screaming into the guilty hush.
Secrets hidden by sea-silenced sand.
Neutron binary star collision
Drifting in the ether, most of my adult life
Drawn toward a magnetar, she's a prototype
Exotic matter unimaginable, powerless to repress
Mercurial wondrous, one time star has turned goddess
Imploded onto my scene, light weeks ago
Contains only neutrons, emits an ovulating glow
Trapped in her energy, I've become a willing feeder
Stripping off my outer layers, every orbit I come nearer
Accretion disc envelopes me, she siphons off my matter
Relentlessly devouring, inexorably I'm growing flatter
An inverted death embrace, drains the life from me
Oozing radioactive plasma, overcome by gravity
Nothing left to give our marriage, togetherness remain
Resting on her surface, satisfying each others pain
Pulsating forever, orgasming every few seconds
Lovers radiate jets, ejaculation going errant
Originally written 08/30/21
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
07/27/22
A tiny waist
Imaginary breast
Empower
Don't deflower her
Give her book
Not dick
Care for her lessons
Not her menses
Send her to the classroom
Not your bedroom
Give her book
Not dick
She needs literacy
Not early pregnancy
Education
Not ejaculation
A sense of honour
Not prolonged labour
A better future
Not vesico******l fistula
A pen is all she needs
Not a ***** nor kids
Save the girl child's pride
Don't make her a bride.
Electric shock.
And so were those
Winter days.
Hysterical, practical
And our supplements
To fight daily
Loneliness.
Mustard in her
Nails made shooting
in the Street far worse.
A cylindrical whirlwind
of your suitcase
as you're weight lifting
And I'm drinking and
So you are you and
We're passing out now.
I spilled my wine on
the bar. On purpose.
And I wished my father
Was there.
behold now everything on this earth;
the fields with abundance of grain,
palm-grove harvests rich and fruitful,
the forests that separate kingdoms and the fires that scorch them;
the brickwork of ancestries and the towers that reach our gods.
behold these crop-fields that we call life and death,
grown on the back of a sludge-like entity
sowed, and heaped, in granaries of self-doubt;
collected by children's dirty hands;
bronze-sickles, charcoal-eyes;
while the storms unwrap in the south...
gales have swept these homes and huts of clay,
the dog-faced pazuzu gnarls at the moon, as inimical as it is revered;
a mother's love for the murderous son is as complex
as the children's dependence on these fearsome steppes.
behold now everything on this earth;
the countenance of the origin-beast-mother carved in the mountains of the north
and the efflux of her genitals streaming to the south of the marshes,
into that great ocean whose shores we know only by myth
and whose waters is the abode of the primordial one,
whom hurls the long-spear of flood and storm
deep into the sides of these lands - for these lands are hers:
when all comes about, has not the lands risen strongly
from her bottomless and abysmal womb?
was not the pleasure that shook the members of the old, old gods
into ejaculation, indeed, the motion of her scaled loins?
is she not the temple to which all sacrifices are offered, all libations put forth:
is she not the shrine; the death-black ziqqurat; the lighthouse emitting darkness?
is she not the stele inscribed with all words of grace,
and the eloquence of our beautiful poets?
over the lapse of a thousand millenia,
she has been constricting the gods of the heavens
in a strong leather noose,
f o r i s n o t v o i d o r i g i n a l t o a l l ;
c h a o s , d i s c o r d , o r i g i n a l t o o r d e r ?
Form:
Corruption, like orgasms, contracts
It pulls back the hope
from children and mothers and fathers
A tightening if you will
The nation draws still
inhales
and holds it for a generation, a lifetime
before it bursts forth
in an explosion of desire and greed and loathe
we call change
Poverty comes
that premature ejaculation
where all is drained and empty and wasted
until it turns
to want and need again
The searing heat of passion
contacts the nation again
draws tight its fabric
and plunges us
into the perpetual death
of austerity
where we hang
suspended
until the ripples of election
consumes us once again
I write to tell you of my life
But you compare meanings with dictionaries
And understand words
Think of this poem like a lover's fight
You told me if we quarrel I must not leave the bed
So I take it I must wrestle you until you yield
If you only bring your senses to words
You are like me, too sophisticated that morning
And too naive to understand
If you will enter into life
You first die bruise and broken
For why should find life if already you are alive
Is this not what you do to me everyday
If I was not a poem I would not even care
But I know I am written to be read
Deeply; to be profoundly understood
I resent dictionaries always sabotaging my imageries
I resent you imposing on me your twisted histories
How many have you had
Is there no private to abort your the incongruities of your womb
A poem must be read without suppositions
Without hesitation
It must be penetrated and rewarded with convulsions
I vomit in revulsion unless I am placated
For the ejaculation of truth,
That is deep semen from complex tissues
And feelings that for life are complex roots.
They say that it will cure all your ills,
It's liquid and doesn't come in pills;
will it cure, anxiety, trauma and impropriety?
depression, obsession, angst and obesity?
Flatulence, disobedience, lack of ********,
boredom, constipation, sickness and a sore bum,
morbidness, being morose, getting rid of a dose,
help ejaculation, deaf and dumb, making you come.
Phobias, hang-overs, make-overs, hand rovers,
sexual harassment, groping and embarassment,
corruption, bribery, graft, lying and dying,
cheating, beatiing, passing exams without trying.
No, it won't, unless you're into psychosomatic,
in which case, you're route to paradise will be automaric.
alternately titled: breast damned fallacy hi-jinxed!
In her “60 Minutes” interview aired
Sunday (March 26th, 2018),
the **** star known within red district
as Stormy Daniels bared
her "naked lady" version
swearing oath of honesty,
she emphatically dick cleared
on a stack of video nasties,
and x-rated 'zines
now she can live rest of life
guilt free offloading
hush money endeared
a posteriori into infinitely
jesting bordello loop
with calmly enchanting bug eyed,
drooling media hounds,
whose nostrils flared
squelching the trumpeting Don,
who maliciously glared
for traitorously breaching
“genital man's agreement”),
playing the (sock it to him role
of goody two shoes)
christened Stephanie Clifford)
shaggy long haired
pseudo Mayflower madam averred
to right justice in sought after
condom free nation,
where the turkey
ought tubby national bird
mandating free codicil
to second amendment as of furred
thus, that ass hide from right to bear arms
premature sea r man ejaculation
of Peter ought to be heard
where sudden sound
sans pubis seams burst
jock strapped unseen bulging Johnson's
onslaught hail of expletives cursed
out the mouth of salty sailor spewing Prez,
hook halled for a recess first
and foremost before
questioning resumed
automatically immersed
within tawdry tabloid pulp pit
whore sing Bacchanalian refused to quit
particularly when groin
set zipper (flimsy – obviously,
NOT put thru linkedin
locked down rigorous paces
realized, when pry vet eyelit
of trouser snake split)
yielding singular (nada so sterling)
gamut gallimaufry variegated erector set
with singular bulbous
ram rod rocket like trivet.
4 ablution 4 acclimatization 4 adulation
4 benediction 4 biotransformation 4 blastulation
4 concatenation 4 conception 4 configuration
4 declaration 4 dictation 4 differentiation
4 ejaculation 4 emancipation 4 ********
4 fascination 4 flagellation 4 flocculation
4 gastrulation 4 glamorization 4 glorification
4 habituation 4 harmonization 4 homogenization
4 implantation 4 impregnation 4 incubation
4 jubilation 4 junction 4 juxtaposition 4 kation
4 keratinization 4 k-ration
4 labialization 4 libation 4 liquidation
4 manifestation 4 menstruation 4 micro-encapsulation
4 negotiation 4 notification 4 notion
4 ovation 4 oviposition 4 ovulation
4 parturition 4 penetration 4 perpetuation
4 quadruplication 4 qualification 4 question
4 reaction 4 repopulation4 reproduction
4 sanctification 4 schematization 4 scintillation
4 thermojunction 4 titillation
4 underestimation 4 unification 4 union
4 validation 4 valuation 4 vasocongestion
4 weatherization 4 workstation
4 zombification 4 zonation
so the "majority" resound
that life begins at birth
and equally, the other "majority"
state life begins at conception
Senator Connie Johnson chimes in
that life begins at ejaculation
or more equally, ******, a come-along
and tongue-in-cheek we hardly speak
in compromising tones, she bemoans
I'm thinkin' why not go the extra mile
...take the next step and say that
life begins at a leer and a smile
since that's where the cheeks flush
or go just a bit further and say
it starts by the hall water fountain
or while showering and dressing up
for an evening of conceptualizing
life takes on special significance
when spritzing the cologne and
slipping into something tight
with high-heels and zippers
but since we're talking about
conception, maybe we should just
go back to the ceiling of the
Sistine Chapel where God touched Adam
and said "ok young man...go forth
and conceptualize a civilization
and do many things in my name
but mostly remember to live life"
© Goode Guy 2012-02-24
http://www.npr.org/2012/02/24/147346702/how-lawmakers-lost-their-sense-of-shame?ft=1&f=1001
With underlying arms well akimbo
Seductively they glance at each other
Smiles seasonally defined
Amidst celebration in the bed of rose
Gently they pulled their panties
Preaching to one another amidst copulation
The Bible too far from bed
Humbly replaced rubber cum metal
None was Godly alarmed
The Reason for the season ruefully undermined
Where then lies the climax
As ejaculation overtakes redemption
Who will save the saving Jesus
Lonely outstretched on the cross
Works already ongoing on the second grave
Christ Himself has run drought of blood
Where lies a candid remorse
For the pints already outpoured
Salvation has grown archaic
Wooing versus soul winning epitomize affray of the moment
How can the immoral game be refereed
The spinster is much in need of it
Gently lovely lowly she plays her wing
Who can suspend the salacious match
Time is here at hand
When Christ Himself shall arise with whistle
Showing the end of the match
And making selection for next league
Being the reason for the season
© Izunna I. Okafor 2017