Long Erotically Poems
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BORN AGAIN FREAK
Was a virgin
long time
waited until he
pulled back that veil;
He kissed me for the first time.
I, never wanted to be
Handled nor touched,
he being my first,
I became weak, for the musk of him.
Innocence replaced with lust.
Through him, I learned to trust
Yearning to explore;
His chemistry intrigued me.
I loved to cuddle
Under him for the foreplay.
I never wanted to go all the way.
New to womanhood,
A shy delight in watching
him undressed.
I awakened to his flavor
I could relish in his touch,
He brought out that
Streak in me, that freak in me.
A natural ability;
That only he could induce.
He squeezed the juice
From my fruit:
No one else could do it.!
In another place in time
Our signals were aligned;
He then becomes aloof to our truth.
Time passed, I could inhale
No one else, others were never
Fresh, always stale.
I stayed in celibacy
Wrestled with that
Spirit in me.
Nearly twenty years without
Sharing sheets.
I became a ‘’re-virgin, for certain’’.
Repulsed by mankind;
Turned my head away
When people spoke to me.
Repulsed by air stirred by any
Other human beings.
After years, he returned
He found me unchanged
Waiting to inhale,
His fragrant smell.
Soon he settled in, we began
To make me laugh again.
He sighted the truth in my eyes,
I could not hide what was inside.
There was a rumbling within;
My eager freak met
Him tit for tat.
He touched places
And I touched him back.
He awakened, me erotically,
Everything was at stake.
The output and intake.
Holding back nothing.
I am his escalated freak
A Volcano, born from
The abstinence.
I withheld, endured…now
Born again a virgin.
This long-awaited touch;
Created a streak in me.
And only he — could bring
Out that freak in me.
He is my spirituality
I love him religiously.
.... and I be born again.
And all is well.!
To err is human,
to forgive, divine.
Humanity is made in errored God's image
is made in forgiving humanity
hanging on the cancerous family Tree
of survival consciousness
and dying sentience.
What human nature ambidextrously
and nondualistically
and paradoxically means
by becoming more divine
As we remake
reform
re-give us permission
to be sacred
and yet not perfectly empowered communicators,
verbally vulnerable
and non-verbally transparent
When we acknowledge
our ego identity suppresses eco-fertility
confined to our own mortally errored
less than fully divine soulful image
of omni-empowered sentience
and enlightened multigenerational consciousness.
A human soul is made in God's imagelessness
as God reconnects
religions
revives
and reforms my 0-Soul
in imperfectly individuated
humanely communitarian identity.
Organic beings are made
from sentient EarthMother's interwoven
co-empathic
primal relationships
Gaian God is pre-conscious
in anthropocentric images
of regenerative humane co-acclimation,
polycultural yang/yin
win/win
ethotically self-consciousness
and erotically other-sentient
Creolizing cultural realization
of historically democratizing
non-violently communicating
transforming transubstantiation
Returning humane communion error
into divine self-forgiveness
for egos made in Gaia's co-acclimating image
As Gaian win+win health empowerment
becomes remade
through rehumanizing
sentient EarthBodhisattva's
wealthiest 0-zen imagery.
A push-button blood alarm
scans the receptivity of softly ticking ears.
It is the ever-wakening
never snoozing
internet jungle calling.
Fasting birds as large as velociraptors
insist on being called parrots,
a raucous conversation hardly heard
as it filters through
3-D printed flugelhorns.
A cell awakes vibrates within an ear socket
demanding its early morning diaper change.
Little silver bells are clanging,
A sub-audial cacophony of eager voices
discharging their erotically-charged salvos
Devices cry to be fed.
Now subliminal texts tattoo
a finger pulsing moment.
Thumbs are itching to be mugged, in-plugged,
abused in a bath of warmed-over news.
The scaly parrots are now too loud to hear,
we are near
our minds nailed to a printing block
and tapping impatiently
as reality is swiped this way and that.
The racetrack is galloping,
white rabbits are being
yanked out of top hats so rapidly
we can only blink our replies
in a hand-held, wide-eyed chameleon sky.
Cooperation is
about potential of relationship,
for equitable integration,
maybe even some healthy co-arising assimilation,
correlation
co-relations.
Cooperatism is about investing our healthy time
in ourSelves
and each and every EarthBound Other
Earth’s vast loving health potential,
evolving
revolving
dissolving
involving
divesting
investing
infesting
While Capitalism is also about wealth-investing our money,
commodities of sacred Earth's equivalent value,
net-working anthroprivileged resources
and ecosystemically synergetic assets,
Earth’s therapeutic regenerating AnthroMind/EarthBody balance,
political and economic cooperative
perennial revolution of healthy climates, of course,
but recovered
re-involved
re-connected
re-ligioned through polyculturing/multiculturing
resilient/resonant true-health EcoLogic
wherein Earth’s longing to repurpose
greets sublime AnthroErotic coital co-redemption.
Capitalism, divested of its Cooperatistic Political and Economic Evolution,
is a sad reminder
of AnthroSupremacist wealth v. poverty
over-industrially militarized
divestment from permacultural eros roots
Neurosensory win/win reiterative health
versus
win/lose 0-sum pathology
Capitalism, divested of Cooperative Models and Theorems of ReGenerative Developmental Creolization,
is a suffering suboptimizing reminder
of Capital's integral potential
when re-invested through natural/spiritual
EarthBody/AnthroMind
Cooperatism’s co-binary
vast health wealthy potential
politically resonant within
as economically resilient without.
Wealthy republican capitalism
healthy best re-invests
in healthy democratic Cooperatism
as light is drawn
toward Earth's revolutionary recircling.
Capital feeds agapic cooperatism
as wealthy AnthroMinds
erotically co-engage
healthy political
sacredly integral
EarthBodies.
Community trauma prevention
sounds not so sexy
to absent-minded mayors
and perennial kleptocratic players
And growing a regenerative Learning Community
isn't really ecojust about restoring
healthy democratic justice
for a somewhat sexier
and robust multicultural environment.
Both of these Win/Win Game Theory
trauma-informed learning theory applications
remain paternally erectile
mountainously synergetic
strength functions
of community YangWoke experience
And valleyed ecofeminist
indigenously EcoMatrimonial Wise
for growing integrity's flow
of nonverbal ecstasy
nonviolently yin
peak rebirthing experience
polycultural wealth wombed learning
co-passionate communionation
Sacred root chakra souled
and yet creolizing carnal
as rich
dark
warm
wet
erotically fertile
whole enlightened therapeutic day
and holonic nighttime soil
For cooperatively slow-growing
emergent community trauma prevention
Which may resound
more climate holiday sexy
even to absent-minded elitist mayors
and perennially kleptocratic
hopelessly straight white male
LeftBrain ego-narcissistic
phat but not-so-jolly players.
Was a virgin
long time
waited until he
pulled back that veil
He kissed me for the first time.
Never wanted to be
Handled nor touched
Became weak, for the musk of him.
Through him, I learned to trust
again.
I could tell by his smell
His chemistry intrigued me.
loved to cuddle
Under him for the foreplay.
Never wanted to go all the way.
I awakened to his flavor
I could savor in his touch
He brought out that
Streak in me, that freak in me
My natural ability;
That only he could induce.
He squeezed the juice
From my fruit.
No one else could do it.
In another place in time
Our signals were aligned
He then becomes aloof to our truth.
Time passed I could inhale
No one else, they were never
Fresh, always stale.
I stayed in celibacy
Wrestled with that
Spirit in me.
Nearly twenty years without
Sharing sheets.
Re-virgin, for certain
Repulsed by mankind
Turned my head away
When people spoke to me;
Repulsed by air stirred by any
Other human beings.
He found me unchanged
Waiting to inhale,
His fragrant smell.
Settled in, he began
To make me laugh again.
He sighted the truth in my eyes
I could not hide what was inside.
There was a rumbling within;
My eager freak met
Him tit for tat.
He touched places
And I touched him back.
He erotically awakened,
All that was at stake.
Holding back nothing.
I am his escalated freak
Born again from
The abstinence, I withheld.
Born again from his
Intoxicating smell.
There was a streak in me.
And only he—could bring
Out that freak in me.
He is my spirituality
I love him religiously.
.... and I be born again.
And all is well.!
Hello folks, I am your loyal fork - but had to laugh
At a comment below' hard to find a loyal one nowadays',
Fish knives are smelly,
Many centuries ago, designed for the sharp edge,
To be away from your face,
So that your nose did not have to brace
Itself, and your mouth was prepared to swallow,
This unsavory taste,
And therefore there was no waste,
No fridges or coolers in those days,
Had to eat what was served, spices and herbs
helped in many ways!
The soup spoon, seems somewhat tubby,
And looks a little, as did mummy,
But ouch, she wouldn’t like that,
She was only just a little bit fat!
But you, the steak knife, who do most of the work,
As you cut through rump, sirloin, pork or fillet,
Your duties like a military man, you never do shirk,
You master all foods proudly, we, the rest of
The cutlery in the drawer salute you,
Deserving of your Officer’s rank,
And we always rally to your defense, and flank
Each side of the dinner plate,
In every continent, country or state.
But who is the flirty one in the cutlery drawer
Why, the dessert spoon of course,
Used puuuurfectly seductively,
To scoop up deserts,
I, says the dessert spoon, make men drool,
As I lift my self erotically, to my mistress’s mouth,
Leaving some ice cream on me, which
She licks with her tongue, I assist her mischievous
Acts of eating with me,
As I enjoy the electric sensual romantic mood,
I’m no bodies fool!
Hey what about me, said the butter knife, as I slip
And slide through butter, and spread this indulgence
With lots of calories and love on your bread,
And of course dear little tea spoon,
Who stirs sugar and milk in your coffee or tea,
Don’t forget me!
So this dilemma as to who is the most
Important in the cutlery drawer,
Is easily solved
All eating utensils are equally involved.
Tutankhamun, a small bird of prey
This pharaoh of Ancient Egypt
Akhenaten’ son and his sister “the Young Lady”.
Alas! Alas! Alas! Ay that was the name of his vizier
His minister or favourite
He made him marry
As a child
With his half-sister Ankhesenamun
Daughter of his father and Nefertiti
The Great Royal Wife
Conceiving two daughters who died
At the first opportunity
While in the sands of the desert
The whirlpools danced
And the sun played in the brightness of the rocky ground
And the humps of the camels.
Enamored by the magic of the roads
Supported by canes due to his physical disability
And other real illnesses:
Osteonecrosis: death of the bones in his left foot
Scoliosis: curvature of the spine
Malaria or paludism
For playing erotically with females
From Anopheles mosquitoes
Like elephants do with ants
In the Valley of the Kings
In the desert area (Desheret, the “Red Land”)
On the western bank of the Nile
In front of Luxor, in the heart of the Necropolis
Who made him die young
At nineteen years old.
A friend of mine “Pasapoga”
Called that way because she likes dancing a lot
Who loves to study about prehistoric ruins
In love with Howard Carter’s studies
Famous English archaeologist and Egyptologist
She decided, one day, to travel to Egypt
To visit the tomb of Tutankhamun.
She was making her way to the sarcophagus chamber
Flanked by two statues of the pharaoh
When she felt a hand touching her breast
Without knowing if it was from one statue or the other.
On leaving the visit and reporting it
A tomb robber was arrested
His laughter betrayed him
In addition to the fact that she came out shouting:
-The gods and pharaohs are not worth a damn
Only their jewels and money.
From then on, because of the “Touching of the pharaoh”
She named the pharaoh as “Tocatetamen”
“TouchBigTits”
Even though he had not been.
*Secreto de Medianoche*
~On this very Night~
I found myself in a
FANTASY
Camouflage in lace,
I run my hands all over the place
Wet whispers drop in between
In a soft stroke,
I touch the tan on my skin
Pure sweetness unfolds
The perfumes in the air - Arouse
every sexual intention inside
Without a care,
I'm lost in the moment,
Every feeling at this point,
feels erotically insane,
In a seductive way--
the night whispers my name,
A freedom flight - into the night.
(Like the wind)
Caressing my breast, my legs tremble
Beyond the haze, into another world
Never pointless - A new sensation
My fingers slither, a play tonight
Circles in motion,
Vibrations and self-soothing lotion,
I touch myself gently,
Thinking of you relentlessly,
Looking around,
The night echoes a whimpering sound,
Embracing the Secrets Inside
I squeeze the dark damp sheets-
Moaning and moaning, repeatedly.
Holding my silk pillow, groping my knees,
I run my finger on my lips -
Satisfaction complete!
Back into the realm of dreams.
~Tonight~
:)
I am tired and thirst
far from having any erotic feelings,
too hot for a 'nookie,' the last thing on my mind.
Here in the stifling heat surrounding our camp site,
I keep traipsing back and forward to the eskie
to get an ice cold drink, and wet my face cloth.
Passing my husband, I see his hot sweaty face,
I laugh to myself and say
" No hints of an erotically charged afternoon today."
He is also hot, tired and thirsty,
heat has a way of sapping one's energy!
Perhaps? if a cool change arrives
we may change our minds, and
fall into a passionate, erotic embrace.
'I don't think so'
The only erotic thing in my vision is
my husband wrapping his lips around his cigarette,
performing slow drawback's and blowing smoke rings
Or curling his fingers around the radio knob
to change the radio station.
I gaze at his rough, unshaven face, and
think to myself 'Pash Rash' if
caught in erotic twists and turns -
'No thanks.'