Long Libidinous Poems
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Qu'ry this: a chivalrous charlatan, I,
Dareth feign to pen thy prop'r aspect?
Aye, f'r thy legitimate contours art yet
Ov'rwhelmingly stagg'ring to the gazeth,
And if beheld by the ingraft m'rtal, thus,
Wouldst rend'r those folk stunn'd to reticence.
Such provocative p'rfection f'r a prop'r prose
Pedestal doth now standeth thy outlines.
If 't only the ink of mine own quill flow'd with
The langu'rous liquidity of thy libidinous limbs.
W'rds danceth off the wit at but a glance
Of thy exquisite epid'rmal embodiment,
W'rds liketh touch, tickleth, tease, tempteth.
Coequal the wisest of w'rdsmiths wouldst strain
To holdeth nigh and effectual, the phrasing
Of the diaphanous d'rmal dialogue that
Elucidates the sultry "esses" yond thy
Shadow paints on the walls and flo'rs.
Only those bless'd as i, without pure
Sight of the eye, art accomplish'd
Enough to appropriate a competency
Of fair and f'rm'd appreciation and
Charact'rization, of the voluptuous
P'rtions that composeth thy physique.
Those such as i w're b'rn to the burden
Of the darkness, but also bless'd to the
Bearing of the tactile and touchable.
Mine own pen is the palm, the fing'rtip,
The soft application of skin-to-skin contact,
The int'rpretation of v'ry tiny electrical
Impulses from ev'rything integumentary,
And the und'rstanding of all that keen
Inf'rmation being convey'd to the brain. Alloweth
Me readeth thee anon, alloweth me putteth tactile
"Pen" to the pages of mine own soul and psyche,
Alloweth me writeth a st'ry th're upon thee, alloweth
Me knoweth with mine own fing'rs and palms
The wond'rful w'rds that describeth thee in all
Thy immaculate, sublime consummation,
Alloweth me abs'rb the text of thy curve'd f'rm,
And lighteth the darkness of mine own blind w'rld.
Transf'rm this beshrew into mine own blessing.
Alloweth me beholdeth thee as nay oth'r ev'r shall.
As a st'ry, biography, adventure, book, a tale ...
Without end.
He stakes my arms to the wall, with binding hands.
I feel his desire through the strength of his grip, he
presses against me and I can’t move. I meet his eyes.
He smiles. I smile.
We kiss to form a scabrous, common bond.
I feel bound up in him and we remain, as such,
too long, too rude, too rough - and free for all to see.
It’s enough to draw curious eyes and jealous sighs.
We stop for air, to reestablish equillibria.
Our immediacy is too giddy - we’re too flushed
for words - the libidinous overtures of dirty birds.
It’s just a kiss, or two - too few - measure them by
pleasures blush - but now, we to the dance floor rush
to join the crush - YES, fun is enough.
The sprout of momentary illusion,
the voyage of a derelict dream in place of a lie,
the lure of April, the deceit of May concertized in December,
in wintry snow, mocked,
miscarriages of a well worn organ,
the grin of February,
suspended in September,
the burden of unconquered Lust,
the armies of censorial secret "bedders",
begging for the abandoned rottenness on my path,
obsequious frenzy of the hasty oath at Ikoyi,
the stealthily lure of a defiled bed before the oath,
the desperation of "a wanna be" by crook,
hurried by the mascara coated looks of a postponed "dowried hariotery,"
A bedfellow from the red zone,
an unrepentant Gomer,
The armies of bias exes overwhelmed the gaze with suspicions,
compelling through diurnal and surreptitious escapades in dark corners,
allured by unfinished lust,
to the city centre for a quickie,
And myriads of men hides in ambuscade save one,
with threats of kill for suspending their “off home” secret lush
The public mistress unfit for their homes, Yet suited for their Lust by turns
she warmed our beds they say'
purloined for your Fall of a few days,
The bawd roamed unrestrained,
'Don't talk to me' she says.
Unbridled concupiscence her forte,
forty plus years in the trade,
well versed in the art
The sneaky nights,
the secret calls,
the Stygian services,
and countless gift of libidinous frivolities.
Yet their victim must remain mute,
as truly the drama unfolded ,
all appeal rebuffed by arrogance,
as they taunt with permissive perverse Laws
convinced on the first day.
Converse for four weeks,
conscripted in one week
“conbedded” on arrival in same day,
Correction of a fool,
concluded at the Court.
Then in retrospect, Delilah revived.
Libidinous pleasures soar on sensuous lips
Red as her favorite flowing dress, licentious as she is
Bright eyes of wonder launched with a glowing smile
Blushing cheeks turn pink reflecting on our longevity together
Serene skies remember everything of the pastel past
Sings of beauties pleasures soft as fairy wings back there
There is much more to love than simple kisses in history
Passions build beguiling, flavors of rainbows colored age
Secrets safe with our caresses, borrowed softly on romances breeze
While daisies dance above the world, subtle as a virgins skin
Arm in arm we fall beneath green grasses hidden
Picnics are enhanced with red wine and cake
And loves embrace never satiated
My lovers splendor comes on a gentle touch that we call love
Created and Entered -The Colors Of Love poetry contest on 6/7/16 - Sponsored by: Casarah Nance
A sprawling sun it's anchor plucks
Drifting anchorless, below the horizon ducks
A canopic relic storing spent day in timeless trust
Well-timed descent bearing the residual thrust
Borne with gilded shades of chardonnay shadowing Helios's lust
A lustful pinwheel of spent angel dust
On flaming angelic wings his smoldering ember doth swagger and sway
Swaying, burnished folds swiveling in neon crust
Swiveled caricature of fleeting, ruddy bust
Smoldering, fleeting climax appended to day's heated fray
Abridging shadows of gray pall the libidinous display
Displaying the deviant beams from Selene's hideaway
Selene casts a melancholy disk her tides to foam
Brokered tidings from Helios's now distant dome
Wrapped ...
In dark wonder
Lost to the moon
In mists of madness
We ...
Are conflagration
You burn my blood
The fiery chaos, coursing
Molten forms in synchronicity
A libidinous engine, erotique
Revving inside you ...
I, the sudoric hand to your glove
Crimson nails rake my chest
You grind me, pestle-on-mortar
Eyes above me rolling back in carnal bliss
I stop, and wait ... teasing
Your gaze returns the moon's delirium
Seeing my vexing grin ...
You squeeze my cheeks like a naughty child
Trembling ... anticipating
Eyes pleading ...
I wait ... building tension ... need
Milking your desire and intensity
And when the want in your eyes is unbearable
I relent, and push you slowly up
Arching with renewed passion and depth
Your hair and soft places lilt
Hypnotizing me ...
Coy, sexy smile ...
Letting me think I'm in control
When we both know
Otherwise ...
Wrapped ...
In dark wonder
Lost to the moon
In mists of ...
US.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Picture Prompt" Poetry Contest, Brenda Chiri, Judge & Sponsor.
This bowl is no longer mine,
was never so,
Let it go.
well worn before the oath,
A gift that despised the guardian,
Presented freely without a dowry in May.
tainted, and abandoned.
used, and widened by many.
too wide to keep a home.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
insatiable, licentious and libidinous.
The bowl was scorned by many.
ere i fell a wandering,
incorrigible, rebellious, untutored.
a bait on my way, the sorrow on my path.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
Like many seeking for prey, and so was i for a time.
intent concealed,,
desperate for the gift of the semen.
as adulterer urged rebellion by ignorance.
the rage, the rave of ego and bestiality.
deceived the Law for mere gain.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
It is broken cannot be fixed by logic.
this bowl is old, alluring by mascara.
This bowl was used,
i take exception on your list,
This bowl is free available to all.
the next victim can explore.
the bowl is cheap,
forced a dowry to conceal the shame.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
T'was sold for free at Ikoyi with ego,
Who is next?
A thousand many had the bowl,
I played along for a time,
ere this voyage of deceit,
I took a flight from restrain ,
hoping to make a jewel from the Flesh.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
This bowl is addicted to the red zones,
Incurable addiction i recalled,
The friends,
The internet,
The phone,
The TV,
The cinema,
And tattling,
The routines of unending dark flights
Incorrigible,
Venomous.
You may have the bowl if you would.
think no shame on me, I lusted.
This bowl is No longer mine.
Let it go
Once a street bowl,
and always so.
Find the bowl in your homes,
Let's hope the bowl recovers.
but a broken bowl is irreparable by man
Beautiful dreamer, midnight's
solstice sway
Beacon your lover to sweet
serenity's hideaway
Build a synaptic bridge to
connect each wandering soul
Entrancing moonbeams,
through each apse passion
scroll
Stardust coat each amorous
strand, pining hearts dole
Cupid pluck each heart string
'till each tender chord,
With lucid fantasies their
libidinous parts cajole
Wax the starry milieu with
silken threads
Weave each charming line so
love's tapestry spreads
On Nightingale's downy perch
sing enrapturing lullaby
On angel's glistening wing to
Venus's balmy shore fly
Enlightened lovers leap into
midnight summer day
With Heaven's blessing dance
across the Milky Way
I am a Victim,
Lured by mascara, and by a pretext piety
Induced through lust by immoral vermin
I am a Victim
Blindfold through cunnings to fest on a plowed field,
“Whore scammed”, trapped in a net by the conspiracy of a blemished womanhood
I am a Victim,
Decoyed through the bait of an illusion to nurse the wound of another.
Oh! The Desdemona from whose path I avoided avowal
I am a victim,
Of marriage in Freetown, the offer of credit in dowry.
And the sharer chokes hastily by licentious and libidinous overwhelm.
I am a Victim,
Of a venomous revenge of a late marriage,
The brunt, the consequence of many abandoned lovers lurking still to watch my shame.
I am a victim,
Hauled from far off climes to be used, dumped after use
Suspended in the gale to fulfil an ambition.
I am a victim,
Of a clandestine unanimity of an unbroken vow,
Lust feigned for friendship dictates and plotted through covert text, my fall their aim
I am a victim
Of the conspiracy of “Exes” plotted by the bed lure,
Of hasty overturn to conceal the fraud by a blinded jury
I am a victim,
Defrauded, demonized, humiliated and ridiculed.
A bespectacled gargoyle masked the visages in the loss
I am a victim
They couldn't find in this clime, but must take a trip to seek,
and by secret oath through the court, concealed from affinity save one
I am a victim,
Semen sapped by a desperation to escape a stigma of nature,
And a sorrowing reflection of an impostor on my innocent seed
I am a victim
By revenges of many woes, still waited to plow on a stranger’s lap
Whose seed was taken through anger for mere gain,
I am a victim,
Bore the spatter of grim loss to a burying place and have since never ceased
I am a victim
Of this highest ambition in the vanity fair,
Ousted when a sincere investment was well worn by trickery
I am a victim
of their jeer, of a collective calumny of their bed tattling
of the usurping of fatherhood, of their banter and this grim gaunt wearied
I am a victim,
A reflective victim of conscience.
Of a story not fully told
A golden sunset setting before them.
Two young teens bewitched, hardly in boredom.
The young teen girl in the soft, coral knee-highs stood.
Oh, if only a kiss on her lips thought he, if I only could.
They stood in wonderment of the tall, wispy weeds of
their sunset Spring.
That undulating moment of sacred, sexual awakening.
He, in his new Chinos and shirt, so vibrantly rooster red.
Matched the libidinous thoughts that danced about in his
tousled, boyish head.
The trees seemed to bow, creating a private love cave.
The boy, leaned over, and upon her lips, the softest,
sweetest, cotton-candy kiss gave.
May 29, 2020
3:30 pm PST
Poem# 1,304