She demanded white truffles and Onsetrs cavier!
In a Short creepy mini shirt she man such
Demands!
Yellow troup roe mi ass!
Phat as I is, I demand better!
Yes said the humbled dater, yeah my Lady!
Wagyu, Waygu, Waygu!!!!
I am sexy Lady !
I demand Waygu!
Oysters, and shrimp mousse!
Expensive buttered white truffle sour bread toast!
I demand waygu thick sliced!
Here me sing, I demand such!
Expensive strings made of exotic woods
Horse hair strings catgut tension!
I demand such since I so pretty!Say love, I say huh!
No love give me what I want!
Expensive wines, expensive cakes
Catered to my sexy satisfactions!
By: chef Meetia Dike
And the staff of
Meatus!
White chocalate
And dark chocolate truffle
Cake with toasted sunflower seeds
And congac rasains!
I want it now you peasant!
My thong needs such to phuccion!
And now ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ my nights ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ are ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ wicked ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ like ¦¦¦ you.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
A ¦¦¦¦¦ man, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ on his knee.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
If that would pleasure me.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ my lips
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ touch ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ a ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ lie,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ he'll keep.
I have forgotten how ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ to sleep.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
(Blackout of The Danger Of Writing Defiant Verse by Dorothy Parker)
There are evenings when tenderness catches on the sharp edges of our words. The air grows heavy with everything we meant to say differently. We sit close enough for our knees to touch, carrying the quiet ache of misunderstanding, yet never questioning the love that remains between us.
we clash
then soften
like rain against glass
two hearts learning where to be soft
some words still ache long after they are spoken
yet we never mistake the hurt for goodbye
your hand stays
beside mine
when both our voices shake
we never left the love we struggled within
If my lips could sip on yours
With tender little nibbles
Oh how full my heart would be
With a soft-serve cone.
Dark night, starless skies, shadows aplenty;
Vibrant and glowing, mysterious eyes,
An intense stare; piercing, fierce, as cold as ice;
Camouflage is your aggressive nature—
An armor forged to shield a fragile core.
Your hunting prowess is strongly unmatched;
Cunning agility, ambush of prey;
Terror eminent, always solitaire,
Condemned to a throne built for one.
Moving quickly, feasting, merciless deed;
A feast to starve
the quiet beast within.
Retreat to your lair, mystical panther,
To mask the wounds you swear do not exist,
And rest until another day is near.
As you awake again from your slumber,
Letting your powerful roar fill the air—
A desperate proof of life to shake the void;
Still divine, rare symbolic mystery,
A fallen god in your own architecture,
Master Shapeshifter, ultimate disguise.
Visual Art Disclaimer: Cover image conceptually designed and generated using artificial intelligence to complement the themes of my original poem.
I’ve tasted the sweetest of lips—
plump, embedded in rare nectars.
The scent of your skin lingers on me:
a velvety, flawless cashmere of senses,
an aroma envious of exquisite flowers' perfumes.
I’ve tasted the sweetest of lips...
and the scar that was left in my soul.
Note: The background art was AI-assisted and curated solely to enhance the dark, somber mood of my original poem.
SPANK
If we might
An early night
Satin, perfume
Candlelight
Time to touch
Eyes to fall
Leather black
Flesh to crawl
Corsets tight
Silk clipped thighs
Painted lips
Shadowed eyes
Tongues to lick
Teeth to bite
Nails long
Heels high
Ankles bound
Across the knee
A riding crop
A stinging bee
With every rise
The wait
The fall
A moan
A cry
The gaging ball
Where must these wisps of words lie?
When these limbs are lost and tortured by the taste of touch,
Let the sky hold our voices in a ventura vortex,
I beseech the sun to undress the stars,
our twirling twinkles aren’t meant to be locked in glass jars,
Hopelessly harboring the starvation for your grunts,
If you dare, pierce the navigating needle of night
Torment the twisted thread of the moon,
Sew the silhouette of our songs into the slopes of my skin,
Sultry seamster, sway the sounds of unspeakable sins,
Deep into the hidden places where I begin,
Make a madness out of my resisting lips until they comply
Corrupt the parts I pretend to play,
“a damsel in deny.”
Don’t let the sheets speak of the heat I hide,
When the tailored tints on these thighs were stolen for a reckless joyride,
Guide my graze along the spine of your abyss,
For the ridges of your lungs left an addictive ambiance,
Venomous ventriloquist, versed to veil the vixen of the vapors.
Lingering the tunes of a Tchaikovsky night ~
following its cerulean cords in a c a n d y c a n e delight
etching it's breathless rhapsodies into the mere chords
of wonderland love
reminiscing lyrics of drizzling hope
from our Dearest above
How I've loved! - how I've fluttered away into its
.. violet rhythms
bleeding every selfish woe into a violent choreography
ached into a whirlpool of hesitance
vivian birds mocking my stay
caught in a marigold loop of its poetic obsessions
over and
over and
over
into madness.
into …
the mountain pool …
I dive, headfirst - the suit I was
born in prickling with
bumps as the shivery wet rolls
down my length …
I soar in the cold, inky-black weightlessness
slowly rising as I let the
motion coast my body up to the
polished, star-mirrored
surface …
I break the dark, pearly plane and
take a hungry swallow of the warm, dewy,
bloom-scented summer night air
letting it saturate my core and
fill me to the marrow …
I come back to
reality just long enough to see
the full moon's porcelain glaze on your skin?
the Milky Way's swath shimmering
your tresses, and the
pleading, sublime, sensual gaze that
you pierce me with …
I breathe one
final soul-deep inhalation of
your nectarous fragrance and plunge
again, full into the
cool, shadowy abyss, letting it
take me, complete ...
sinking ever deeper as the
wavy moonbeams wink from far above
deep, deeper, and gone -
lost now, forever ...
in …
your eyes.
Copyright © 2022 / 2026 Gregory Richard Barden
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
"murder me"
she whispered ...
lips pressed to my nape -
soft-nipping skin
for her betrayal of husband and
family meant as much …
we both knew the sacrifices
and we accepted the cost that instant
then, and for the scandalous
time to come …
she was lost in me -
straddling, pressing … and I, lost in her
so rooted that I was becoming
her in flesh - in all senses …
nothing mattered anymore but
passion and its pyre
torching all in its torrid wake -
all that had mattered
'til then …
it was a horrid
thing for her to speak aloud -
to place in such dire phrasing
yet it was ALL I wanted -
all that I needed and cared
to hear … "murder me”
she whispered again, pressing down
"for I am nothing now ...
“but yours."
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
AS I LAY SLEEPING
As I lay sleeping
I feel your arms encircle me
As I stir in my sleep
Our bodies are skin on skin
My body is slowly starting to wake
As your fingertips gently
Caresses my face and arms
As I lay sleeping
I hear you whisper my name
While telling me how much
I meant to you
My body relaxes against yours
With the knowledge that
I am safe in your arms
As I lay sleeping
I softly turn towards you
As you gently kiss
my ear down to my neck
As I lay sleeping
You gently tell me to go back to sleep
As you will be there in the morning light.
Original Poem by
Linda Franklin
I'm on a two hour flight
Window seat
Middle seat vacant.
A no mans land between a woman,
unknown to me at the isle,
Her head absorbed in a paperback
Later she arises, goes to the toilet.
The book lies, its pages spread open,
On the vacant, warm seat.
Tempted by curiosity
My fingers nimbly
Flip it over to read the title,
Fifty Shades of Grey.
She returns, unaware
I'd discovered her,guilty pleasure.
Takes up where she'd left off,
Devouring Fifty Shades of Grey.
And not a word did we exchange
Neither on,take off
Nor during short spasms of,
Turbulent vibrations.
Nor on the bumpy landing.
However, all the while
I was tempted to ask,
' On a scale of one to ten,
how aroused have you been
For the duration of this pleasant flight?'
There’s a fire that needs no flame,
A silent spark that calls your name,
A glance that lingers, hearts that race,
Two souls drawn closer into space.
The world grows quiet, time stands still,
As anticipation bends the will.
A whispered word, a trembling sigh,
A thousand feelings passing by.
It’s in the warmth of being near,
The kind of closeness that makes everything disappear.
No words are needed, none are planned,
Just the electricity of a gentle hand.
Passion isn't merely heat or desire,
It’s two hearts feeding the same fire.
It’s trust, connection, and letting go,
A language only two can know.
And then the heart gives way completely—
No walls remain, no distance between me.
For one breathtaking moment, nothing matters
But knowing you are here, and I am seen.
The noise of the world falls far away,
And every guarded feeling finds its place.
What began as a spark becomes something true—
A profound, trembling certainty of you.
And when the moment fades away,
Its echo lingers into day—
Not merely as a memory of the night,
But as a feeling that still carries light.
By Shawn Muñoz
my ...
fingers are
tactile moonbeams …
and like that porcelain light
I let them dance upon you, bare -
tiptoe across your shy
places with a
delicate (but deliberate)
adoration ...
many, the times they've made
this dermal sojourn
yet each is as if the first -
softer, sweeter, more
sure that the journey is as savory
as it’s delicious end …
each inch, it's own mystery
here-and-there your flesh jumps and
rises as you coo and sigh -
little bumps follow that spread
to the rest of you
like moonlite spattering the sea …
but your sea is mine -
an ocean of tender integument
beneath my touch …
much deeper
and darker
warmer …
and where I
long to …
drown.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
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