Sex. Poems - Poems about Sex.

it is strange to me that a color means something by itself, it elicits memories and experiences orange is my go-to color, not blue or pink yet did they dress me in orange when I was a baby? in the fifties? I rather doubt it. Actually, most of the photos of me as a baby show me in a diaper and...

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Her craft had a sizzle and spark, Lighting up to cook after dark. So his brainpan swam, “That’s one succulent clam!” A morsel, just right for the shark....

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in the foundry ...

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The hum hum of the music One sleepy face The shisha lights You in front of me Taken But oh good sex You took a look at me I could not stop my smile Pretended smoking cough The hum hum of the music One sleepy face The neon lights You in front of me I smile Oh smokey sex....

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They called it short gratification— but I lost my soul in the trade. A moment’s pleasure, for a lifetime of emptiness, a spark that consumed the temple I once was. O Woman, your body is not desire’s playground— it is the chalice of divinity. If you fail to respect your sacred form, no man ever will. Each man you lie with, leaves an imprint upon your soul. And...

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He pays. He leaves. And she bleeds quietly. Some come for release, others for control. Some come to forget. Some to remember. Some to be punished. Some just come because it’s cheap. It's sin. It’s not sin. It’s survival. It’s escape. It’s addiction. It’s barter. It's bargain. It's need. It’s ritual. Here, bodies are commodities. Sold by the hour. Measured by the weight, age and colour of the skin, freshness of smile, limpness of resistance. It is commercialisation...

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it wasnt hunger, not the kind that burns then fades - but a softness, a gravity between us pulling soul to soul through skin. we touched without taking, moved like water moves - fluid, inevitable, shaped only by the need to hold, not to own my hands said "stay", yours said "im here" without a word. when we met - fully, fiercely, with nothing held back - it was not fire, but light. not a...

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All For The Thought of Sex Make the beast with two backs, Give a girl a green gown, Let's rock the bed and shake the sheets, Sometimes it sounds kind of creepy, But hey, lets take another leap, You can go get your berries razzled, Maybe let someone poke your hontus, You can tickle the pickle, Possably cup the coconuts, Go rock your rump, Let them...

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It started when I saw you Those seductive eyes Those luscious lips That pretty little smile... Those tasty looking hips... I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to taste you... I wanted your body on top of mine... I couldn't resist you... The way you talk... The sexy way you walk... Every time you look at me, We would talk and we'd laugh, I'd blush one second... Bite my...

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No one says my goal is to be an ex addict Not cursing them for their confessed habit We all fall short Of goals my Lord I confess to wanting sex like a rabbit...

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I reach across the pillow bare And caress you with my thigh And upon your lips I gently bite And breathe your hungry sigh You pull me close Hip to hip My body is in song A hallucinatory return to where I still belong We are a skein of tangled feelings Traversing time and space Incantatory memories rouse us As we begin...

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Hydration day’s a month away. Online belonging company’s an hour from startup stardom. Titration hors-d'oeuvre Viewfinder pigeonholed to rooftop tourist traps ruin’d carriage holy woods Hollywood's margins, Carousel 13. Things You’ll Bury: molasses sourdough flowers crypto- currency marginalia Lost (Bach set) ghouls in blockchain interdigita. Me, if I’ve missed anyone, LL cool j.— < so. jersey. kühl...

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The American South sits in my throat like grief. Faded floral curtains on Either side of a square, stained window Brown flecks, sometimes red, like the one in My brother’s eye— Nobody knows where they come from. Do you think Eve and Lilith used to kiss? In the garden where no one could see? New Mexico coyotes, dug up from pond banks Smile at me...

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In a world of festivities, we prioritize the frivolous, Elevating Valentine's Day, a celebration quite dubious. February 14th, a day assigned to love's display, Yet, I refute this notion, for love should be everyday. In my culture, this celebration reeks of absurdity, Promoting premature sexuality, a moral calamity. Should we allocate a day for love's celebration? Does this imply we've been fostering...

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Have you been stripped bare once more tonight? Didn't you? Not like every other day— Today, you chose to do it yourself, Hoping to tame his rage before it erupts. But fate repeats itself, Just like always. He arrives— You smile, Hoping to soften his mood, Yet that stone-hearted spawn Doesn’t even look at you. Unhinged, he unzips, Like a machine, he flicks on— Twisting your legs like...

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