Long Carnal knowledge Poems
Long Carnal knowledge Poems. Below are the most popular long Carnal knowledge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carnal knowledge poems by poem length and keyword.
intoxicated by entwined souls,
breasts beating, breathing
in the amalgamation of us.
trust in lips, tongues, stress
of otherworldly communication.
neo-occasion of bare skin,
slightly shy, surrendering
to the shift and slide—
sensuality played portentously…
innocence irrigated…
blind.
intoxicated by the itch;
you scratch
my back like a kitten.
my feet and knees
find your warm precipices
of carnal knowledge.
together we learn
there’s an inner universe;
exploration
of mysterious habitation.
in practice, in habit
tingling of dendrites
over and over again.
intoxication’s jealous—
jumps for joy
at your touch…
knows where your headed
north or south…
intoxicated by extremes,
the shudder of sensuality,
shamelessness of dreaming
in your bed, calling only
your name, stamped
with approval— our’s,
story comes to
a climactic conclusion—
Your Welcome.
9/9/2021
“I'' Contest New or Old
Sponsor: Constance La France
How the thought of her smiling, sick, rude face
repels me. What ever was I thinking?
My time lost in her sickening embrace
was loathsome, base, gross, foul, vile, and stinking!
O, why gave I myself to one so whorish?
So eager was I to love; young, naive,
and simple, I failed to see then how boorish
she was—so blinded was I to receive
her. In hindsight, I would undo the past,
and remain forevermore a virgin—
pure, and chaste! No shame's in that; but the waste
of not reserving myself was my sin.
For me, carnal knowledge came at great price;
I've learned my lesson, and I'll not err twice!
Musing through its morning haze, the jungle mountain begs for my infatuation. A nearby dog fails to resume its circular rhetoric and something closes the eye. Silence descends like fresh oil, drizzling through my rebellious long hair and down across my zippered lips. My kingdom can go to hell. Behind the closed another opens as the child hears the jungle morning shift talking to Aioue about today’s purity. A minimalist’s symphony. In suspended moments, I am the mountain. I don’t need Jesus. I am Jesus. Neither son nor father, husband or mystic. I am. Silence drips down like fresh oil. Virgin nectar. One dangling drop at the end of my nose, mightily pausing the unsilent inevitable.
A ticking clock or a buggered marriage. Another dog mounts its bully pulpit. Cigarette smoke from the contractors next door gang rape the virgin jungle jasmine. The party is over.
Was it besmirchment or carnal knowledge?
Innocence is lost
Or reality is found
I cannot say which
We had Gumby
and Pokey,
And Sanford & Son.
We had Mark Spitz,
And Monty Python.
We had Lenny Bruce,
And Chips.
We had the Sex Pistols,
And A Ballroom Blitz.
We had Martin Scorsese,
And Happy Days.
We had the
Stepford Wives,
And Roe VS Wade.
We had What's up Doc,
and the Rockford files.
We had Gay Pride Parade,
and I can see for miles.
We had Women's Lib,
And Emergency.
We had One Flew Over
The Cuckoo's Nest,
And Mohamed Ali.
We had A Star is Born,
And little Chinatown.
We had Jesus
Christ Superstar,
And Foxy Brown.
We had the VCR
And Adam-12.
We had White Lightning,
and Josey Wales.
We had the Gay
Rights movement,
And Dragnet.
We had the Deer Hunter,
and Stanley Kubrick.
We had the Iran hostage crisis,
and a Six-million-dollar man.
We had Carnal Knowledge,
And The Stand.
We had the
Mississippi Queen
And Tony Orlando.
We had Abba singing
about Fernando.
We had Mick Jagger,
And John Wayne.
We had Rare Earth,
And Fire and Rain.
Turbo1904 ?
Play music, can dance
Observe old body on floor
Shake the world slowly
Love is like a rose
In time it shines the world's heart
out of time it dies
Mountain brook sings songs
Like solitary reaper
None, but lovers hear
in the cage of mountain flocks
the elegant scenery of predecessor lives
in the waist of the mountain brook
the sweet melody of left love lives
in the lap of flowing river
the endless life of saintly love lives
in the blowing lane of autumnal breeze
the salacious tone of winter lives
in the sky-way of flying birds
the intoxicated mind of solitary beloved lives
None possesses time
It's independent, endless;
Wisdom- friends only
Alone mind builds up
Carnal knowledge of the world
Breathing minutes die
Life, death and knowledge
Anthem of world's existence
Weaving love passion
14.10.2020 Chattogram
Form:
Strangers from across the room
in a crowded reception hall,
somehow catch each other's eyes
and in rapture they both fall.
Coquettish smile meets sinister grin,
all other guests becoming a blur;
mystery blends with a touch of intrigue
foreshadowing what might next occur.
Social distractions interfere
and their gaze gets lost in the crowd;
they wander and mingle, pretending to care
but their thoughts are high on a cloud.
Fate plays her kismet card
and they finally meet face to face;
neither one of them utters a word
as they duck into a private place.
Buttons unbutton; zippers unzip;
moaning they try to suppress -
eager to give everything that they have,
carnal knowledge is a success.
Totally exhausted, with smiles on their face,
they slowly reassemble their attire;
one last kiss, with nary a word,
back to the proceedings they retire.
Strangers from across the room,
once again their eyes do meet;
he winks at her; she smiles at him,
and he steps out onto the street.
The accidental sea
See how it washes over me.
How the waves struggle against the shore.
Leaving the sea far behind in its wake
The clouds are beckoning them ashore.
The moon pushes them on even further
What secret knowledge holds it in place?
Kiss by kiss you uncover its secret
As we then partake in carnal knowledge.
She glides over him like a butterfly on its first wings.
The accidental sea.
See how it washes over me.
How the waves snuggle against the shore.
Leaving the sea far behind in its wake
The clouds are beckoning them ashore.
The moon pushes them on even further.
What secret knowledge holds it in place?
Kiss by kiss you uncover its secret.
As we then partake in carnal knowledge.
She glides over him like a butterfly.
As the moon watches over them from her perch.
Watch how the waves snuggle against the shore.
For dark are the secrets we keep.
I want to know which version sounds better. 1 or 2. OR, Should I combine them? I wrote them Wednesday night 3 / 4/ 2015
VIRGIN
Virginity made a promise to always remain a virgin
It’s all pride and dignity; so careful, least all will cave in
She got the deep well locked; not even her fingers can go in
She describes it all as homage to morality and the sixth law
Ignorant of any canal knowledge of man; she doesn’t know the excitement there is to cum
She is keeping to the doctrine that maintains that all should keep their virginity
Virginity is virtue we heard; all we witness now is lack of opportunity
Many claim to be virgins by unbroken hymen; though their mind is all slutty
Have all and leave one; have fun but no ****.
She has not known a man but sure sucked the little man
The boy is a virgin but has got his fingers impersonating the little man
He swears to be a virgin that hasn’t holed a girl but busy making the hole with his hand
He has no carnal knowledge of a lady; but knows how to make his little man stand
He is still a virgin but serves his anus to man as a ****
It’s funny that the young nun is sucking her own breast and fingering her own ****
The church is her smokescreen alibi; broadcasting the virtue in virginity
Virginity is dead; has no value and shows no integrity
The contemporary time has forgotten if any value was ever attached to that word
This is clearer than the Babylonians hand-writing on the wall; no need for a visionary
Crystal said clear! Virginity lost its virginity; just another word in the dictionary...
Lordvip
August,2013.
What’s happening is clearly understood.
Apollo has one hand around her waist,
one predator, one quarry, interlaced.
He’s coming up behind her (which is good),
but she’s a tree (two lovers, getting wood!)
She’d rather change her state than be disgraced,
preferring to be chaste than to be chased.
She’s choosing abstinence, above life's blood.
Is love a trauma, to be undergone?
Arousal something ugly, to be faced?
Should Nature’s process be looked down upon?
The carnal act, a tactless lapse of taste?
Or might the thing be ardently embraced?
We, formless fragments, merging in The One?
The hazy morning dew of spring
Glitters as a Sheppard’s son
Envelops a gentle fawn
On equally wobbly knees.
Clear blue summer afternoons
Shine as a man
Wrestles the mighty lion
On legs of iron.
Foggy chill-winter nights
Freeze as a grey-haired man
Nods to a inky crow
On sticks of wood.
Between hypnagogic trances
And vivid hallucinations
The flats, sharps, and rests
Of tones reflect off
A Queen Alexandria’s wings
As the Monarch soars by
At seventeen miles per hour.
Taking place in dreams and time.
Insomnia begins to blend
Real and fantasy
Today and tomorrow
Then and now
Who and how
Misty harbors of psyche
Attain carnal knowledge
On the grassy knoll of
Psilocybin. Exploding
Inside a weary head
With finger paints
On a black canvas.
Fickle now the transcendence
Of the color spectrum
As it aligns to those
Who die and are dying