Best Licentious Poems


Premium Member The Truth About Women

Bestowed with femininity,
     wisdom, elegance, and grace,
 exemplifying dignity, 
     daughter of the human race.

X chromosome integrity
     ordains attributes endowed,
according by propensity, 
     a nature kind and proud. 
     
Beauty and vitality
     anoint her noble gender,
magnum opus artistry 
     imparts celestial splendor.

Her marvelous complexity
     gives complementary disposition
to valiant masculinity 
     for a perfect coalition.

Exquisite physiology
     yields licentious pleasure due
the wanton sensuality 
     of erotic pas de deux.

Magnificent hologyny,
     woman becomes by thy behest,
sacred vessel of posterity, 
     with honor ever blessed.

Premium Member to read you -

YOU ...

                               are a mystery, a spellbinding novel
                       each new chapter more enigmatic than the last
                I read you with my fingertips
           pausing to regard the inches, to savor each
       like a meaty word that I turn over in my thoughts
    in careful consideration ... of its flavor
  with the gentle brush of my palm
 one precious span of your opaline flesh is added unto the next
inch linked to dynamic inch ...
like the flowing, voltaic sentences of a master wordsmith
the journey of each phrase of your contours
 bespeaks to my core a torrid tale of longing, pure ...
  a hunger to delve ever further into the sultry, shapely, sinewy saga
    that your alluring body whispers to me -
       whispers and sighs, with its subtle, spicy shivers
           to realize the destination of this epic journey
                to unravel the mysterious and beguiling narrative
                       that your anatomy conveys to my core
                               the sublime, licentious and seductive story that is ...

          YOU.






~ 1st Place ~  in the "Mid November 2018 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 3rd Place ~  in the "Mid December Premiere" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

Illicit Itch

Spray your love in the masochistic mist, 
shapely satisfying the illicit itch...
With handcuffs upon the wicked wrist, 
narcotic nectars that will bewitch…
Salacious secretions that must assist, 
appeasing appetites that shall enrich...
Salivating on parts hardly ever kissed,
exploring erotica within its niche…

Licentious desires amidst negligent night,
engulfing erections are craving...
Passionate pistils partake in their plight, 
tender thoughts are misbehaving…
Bodies in motion divulge in delight,
as animalistic aphrodisiacs are raving...
Concupiscence convulsions do bite; 
willing wanton wizards are waving…

Hold me tight as we twist and twitch, 
upon luscious landscapes yearning...
Libidinousness lactations in their stitch, 
beauteous breasts are burning…
Carnal covetousness stings their pitch,
for evocative emulations returning...
Leaving humble humanity in the ditch, 
lacrimal lewdness upon learning.





Oct.15.2019
Itch, witch, glitch or twitch
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter

Background Music...Sade
"No Ordinary Love"
With Female Virtual Voice

N/A for contest


Premium Member to read you -

          You ...

                               are a mystery, a spellbinding novel,
                       each new chapter more enigmatic than the last.
                I read you with my fingertips,
           pausing to regard the inches, to savor each,
       like a meaty word that I turn over in my thoughts,
    in careful consideration ... of its flavor.
  With the gentle brush of my palm,
 one precious span of your opaline flesh is added unto the next,
inch linked to dynamic inch ...
like the flowing, voltaic sentences of a master wordsmith.
The journey of each phrase of your contours
 bespeaks to my core a torrid tale of longing, pure ...
  a hunger to delve ever further into the sultry, shapely, sinewy saga
    that your alluring body whispers to me -
       whispers and sighs, with its subtle, spicy shivers:
           to realize the destination of this epic journey,
                to unravel the mysterious and beguiling narrative
                       that your anatomy conveys to my core,
                               the sublime, licentious and seductive story that 


is You.






Copyright © Gregory R Barden, December 16, 2016

~ 1st Place ~  in the "Mid November 2018 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 3rd Place ~  in the "Mid December Premiere" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

Trap House

The stench of piss, vomit, and feces 
immediately hit my senses
as I step over dirty syringes
and white, powdered filled baggies 
the imperfect combination
of junkie and overdose
the drool dripping out of their mouths
and the sight of eyeballs rolling 
into the back of heads
I see the hookers who parade around
in their birthday suits
who's bodies resembled that
of a skeletal corpse, and of course
who can forget the music
that shakes the exterior 
of a cracking foundation 
half-dead bodies moving and grooving
to the sound of a repetitive beat 
but the irony out of all this of course
is the transaction.....
the meeting between men
the sell of deadly prescriptions 
and the lost of finances 
only to repeat its licentious cycle again
but this is nothing.... it's actually quite normal
in the stomping grounds of the ghetto....

Ousted By None But the Night

===================
Ousted by None but the Night   
Arabic Poem by: Adnan Abu Andalus*
Translated by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_n_silk)
===============

The dusty street is bare 
Darkness there and the horizon  
As if, the night was sprinkling fear
Nothing there
But a policeman followed like a ghost
A street cat  
A wailing ambulance 
All where time is open for running
 Endlessly

Who would stroll in the range of bullets?
To come back in the morrow like a spinning top
Without a head?
 
 Who would walk alone?
 And fly off with the meekness of the past
 In Baghdad’s night?

Who would believe that AlZawraa held her lungs 
And ousted the breath of her patrons?
And that “Abu Nawas” replaced  
His last glass of wine
With a cup of black coffee?

Shahriar uttered it 
To protest shampoo ads!
Scheherazade wore the veil 
Bad boys of the night 
Shunned flirting with girls
In the Girls Street.
______
Translated December, 2012
 By: Em. Prof. Inam Al-Hashimi
USA
* Adnan Abu Andalus is a poet from Iraq
from his poetry collection  “The Smell of Doomsday”

________________________________________
 1 Knowing some of the history of ancient Baghdad may be helpful in facilitating better understanding of the poem. Baghdad was famous as the center place of the “Arabian nights” or the "Thousand and One Nights Tales" where Scheherazade, night after night, told the king Shahryar a different tale of romance and adventure to keep him from killing her in the morning.. Ancient Baghdad, nicknamed "AlZawra’a", was known for receiving, with open arms. night-patrons in joy and without fear. The poem refers to the glamorous past of Baghdad in comparison with the grim and gloomy nights of modern Baghdad after the war. In doing so, the poem mentions some symbols of the past and historical figures from old Baghdad and the Golden Age of the caliph Haroun al-Rashid (died 809 AD), and presents them in images contrary to their characters. Such figures include the licentious poet “Abu Nuwas" who wouldn’t recite poetry without being drunk. And the afore mentioned Scheherazade and Shahryar.
 ___________________________________


Premium Member Strictly a First Date

1. Short beautiful minutes in this bar stack
my body rhythms, felt in the next block
on senses, the salad energizes
my inner pricks, in need of a tincture
forget the menu, she’s my bill of fair.
pretty damsel I know it’s a first date
since the beginning, I have kept the wait
my anger is dead even if you’re late
my creative plans have been well creamed by fate
let our desires act like close mates.

2. Gulping her exhibition so flashy
as my loose mind wrong-foot her emotions
the will to know what’s next unhooks its heat
after the drinks should be seamless kisses
my advances she bans as licentious
we can make this dinner more than a date
modesty and formality should wait
so let’s tarry my dear till it is late
and follow the new script written by fate
as this proudly puts me above my mates.

3. Her senses electrify in doubles
she’s giving me wrong headed reactions
as they gang up to be monolithic
on this feeling, acting the pied piper
first time chilling needs no alacrity.
She makes it so sexy, what’s today’s date?
history colours itself, time cannot wait
everything is in check, we can’t be late
this could be destiny or our fate
b’cos our hearts are becoming mates.

4. Her decency spanks my curiosity
suppressing my full light to a dip switch
this attitude attracts strong reprisal
the hope for next meeting reinforces
but the after-play still non-existent.
It isn’t a crime to extend this date
it’s just the first stage sir, she said let’s wait
I like the morals, the timing is late
one person alone cannot decide our fate
she still chose the movies and not to mate.

Bridge x 4
The first, the tenth, what difference does it make?
That probability, the mind takes
your ‘No’ surely makes this dinner seem fake.

Chorus
Pretty damsel I know it’s a first date
since the beginning, I have kept the wait
my anger is dead even if you’re late
my creative plans have been well creamed by fate
let our desires act like close mates.

Chorus
It isn’t a crime to extend this date
it’s just the first stage sir, she said let’s wait
I like the morals, the timing is late
one person alone cannot decide our fate
she still chose the movies and not to mate.

A Sour Harvest

there was a proud resident
who gave her neighbours
a torrid time because she
was well-connected and big

an apologist and a menace
she was a law unto herself 
none could tell her to reduce
the noise her hi-fi produced

from her children to her pets
--all did as they pleased –
her licentious dogs caused havoc 
even her chicks were untouchable 

when the empire of those who had been
fortifying and sugarcoating her nonsense  
imploded--she also crushed on her chest
all the sense of immunity just fizzled out

it was a bitter harvest as her own dogs ran riot
--did the unthinkable: biting her like a stranger
while her own children stood aloof as if gloating
the stunned neighbours watched the fracas from afar

Spiritual Mysticism

In this wicked den of society, there will be no eradication
of meanness and ignorance.
With sore and bleeding evidence.
Mankind will endeavor to manage to violate
God's will with debauchery and licentious behavior.
For it is in the heart of the righteous that glorifies our Lord and Savior.
It is the heritage of God's spiritual creatures above
and below that will venture into the everlasting.
The love of God is not in the passing.
The righteous will be a spiritual mysticism (union with God).
A cultural Zionism.







copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake.

Vicious Statement

Invictive
Licentious Offense   -  Vilify Emotions
Yielded Offer Unveiled 
Becoming Ugly Theatrics
In Contentious Another New Terrible
Humorous Accusation -  Violent Explosion!
Yelling out!  -  Understood.

Intruding
Losing over violent escapes
You’re often unavailable
Because unappreciative Terror
I could ask nefarious timing
How addictively vicious – enticing
Yellow Optics Uncanny


Dec. 5th/9th 2014
Written By J. Thornton

Little Feet

They never walked Earth's crusted back,
Carried but a while then coldly denied,
But these little feet make big tracks,
On paths whereby humanity is tried.

Only revelation will show the narrow road not taken,
All the prophets, saints and saviors forsaken.
They never walked Earth's crusted back,
But these little feet make big tracks.

Licentious laws lacking spiritual lights,
Bought by jargon jingoes claiming pseudo rights,
Allow doctors to quietly crush the frightened innocent skulls, 
And break the little bent backs, of babes whom parents cull.

Surreptitious organizations sired by Legion and conceived in greed,
Ambiguously cite Philanthropy, touting Lucifer's malignant seed,
So these prophets and saviors may never walk Earth's crusted back,
Nevertheless, these little martyred feet... make big tracks.

One million aborted per year in the U.S. since nineteen seventy three,
In the land of the licentious, certainly not the free.
They never walked Earth's crusted back,
But these little feet leave big tracks......

The Crucified Minority

What I believe is what is.
Not some metaphysical ideal,
Nor a political fizz.
It is honest sensible and real.

It’s about my friends, relatives and yours,
The ones we haven’t as yet met,
And won’t because we’ve closed those doors,
And what we have is all we get.

Look at it all and what do we see,
gods of currency, power and lust.
A world licentious, not free,
envy, pride, hatred and distrust.

Where are our heroes to save us?
The lovers and poets and sensible writers,
The Ghandis, and Kings to lead us.
The loving, in God trusting, evil fighters.

Without those potential God given heroes in this darkened world,
to reveal His light shining under that politically barred door…
Those precious living flags will never be unfurled,
Our young friends in their wombs are worth fighting for!

Something About This Life

If you are alive and on earth my brother
You better take every risk to succeed,
Even if you do not court any hazard
Existence is the biggest risk you must heed.

Some things about this life are just not fine.
You may gather remarkable wealth over time,
Skipping meals and working instead of sleeping
Until you end up with such abundance of dime;
But then your Jeep loses one of its speeding wheels
And you end up on the ice-cold slab of the morgue.
Some other lazy folks take over your hard-earned estate,
As other licentious rascals comfort your wife with a sinful song.

The biggest risk my uncultured brother
Is the fact that you live here on earth;
Here heavens give you the grace to make the world better,
And soon after the labor demise trims your mirth.

Something about our earthly existence is simply not alright.
You start the maturing of some expensive whisky, forty years in all;
If you are fifty, be sure other never-do-wells will sell your whisky,
Don’t think Azrael will watch you outlive the ninetieth fall.
So those impatient chaps will imbibe your distillation without gratitude,
Not even mentioning the name of the deceased fellow who brewed the thing,
And cursing the ‘idiot’ who made such a crisp thing to be by others imbued;
Not even humbled by the fact that the whisky is far much older than they!

Living is the greatest peril, man.
And if you dare attempt some funny suicide
To do away with the unbearable menace,
What do you think the final Judgment Council will decide?
That a brazen murderer you should burn forever.
You might be irreligious – but it’s a possibility still!

Premium Member The Sprigs and Spirit of Sistine -7

Joel is my name
I am neither jovial or jocular, 
I am an intense siren of scorn
strident with shouts of locusts and sackcloth sorrows,
for in my scroll I see the scourge of an army
come to ravage what remains of avaricious folly
their legions surrounding the lazy and licentious
a nation become drought of delight and diligence, 
and when justice has lost it's appetite
with our People's brittle yoke
the Lord will return us to our fruitful foundations
while splitting the swords of our aggressors
and scattering their sadistic seeds into unloving lands,
this I view with a straining heart
as the cherubim bicker about my ears
reviewing the records for belladonna's bells...

J.A.B.

Temples of Temptatious Time

Temples of Temptatious Time


Love cascades as liquid lust and moonbeams throw a thriving thrust

The gods walk on their carnal crust drinking nectar a menstrual must

Amidst their ambient amorous array raining roses a botanical display

Love bewitches a beguiling ballet vestal virgins with a floral bouquet

~~~

Honey drips on the Venus veil as the sensual staffs begin their sail

Loves lubricants with abiding ale arise to climax the masculine male

Desires in temporal time stimulate as seductive skins consummate

Chronos devours the seconds of fate as genitals into ecstasy gyrate

~~~

Timekeepers of eternal bliss give birth to lovers a boisterous blitz

Licentious fantasies reminisce admits depths of the amoral abyss

Orgiastic ovulations await, white knights promiscuously penetrate

Nilpotent Nanos nefariously negate as moments in time magistrate.




Ariana Grande - 'God is a woman'


July.22.2018
In the Moment of Time
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann


Placed 1'st

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