College Magnetic Poetry Vol. 1

I eat her peach, like it was a screaming bed
Rob lathered her pink butt, like I said
She urges me to lick the bare breasts, or no head
They want the mist under the dress, and she is red
I cry, but think those rose petals are like a knife
My woman moans as we fall with spring through life
Smell sweet honey like a purple forest o’ eggs
He sees my finger smear next to the smooth hot leg
Watching two girls waxin’ & milkin’ without you
The gorgeous goddess needs his languid tongue to be true
Deliriously drunk & a repulsive moment recalls an ugly day
I felt the beauty whispering lust, wanting to play
Sweat leaves my apparatus juicy and shiny, always beating it away
Frantic spray floods the luscious garden from behind
Trying to swim beneath a language o’ an elaborate mind
Winter crushes drool over lovely eyes
On top, producing no sleep as we lie
Together, eternity is an essential chain
Manipulating me through bitter rain
Mothers can ask to stop, but still get to blow
I pound your fluff and then must go
Getting shot in some hair is easy when you are not above
Shadows o’ their enormous size is what you vision and love

Circa 1998

*Author’s Note: I feel I should explain this mess. It was written in college on a buddy’s fridge with the non-x-rated magnetic poetry. It is horribly juvenile and I love it all the more for that reason.

A Picture Postcard Perfect Appearance

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A picture postcard perfect appearance
Modest, yet smoldering beauty beneath
A festive spirit expounding – Winter’s tales
Out singing carols & hanging a wreath
But once you come home for the day
Put on those hooker lips & pirate boots
Time to release your animalistic desire
Tired of being demure & a little too cute

Shining Societal Dolls;

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Shining societal dolls;
All alike in appearance
Remaning robotic in nature
Together, rigid in adherence
Decked out in the finest lace
Roaming fancy & ornate ballrooms
But you never saw beneath the mask
Preying upon all the potential bridegrooms

Where Do We Keep Our Secrets

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Where do we keep our secrets
The ones we can never use
Buried beneath lost hopes
But you can’t choose your muse
The beautiful bleeding hearts
Or scantily-clad ladies; so demure
Inspiration reigning down upon us
Souls perform best when the soul is pure

Seeing The Outline Of Curves Beneath Your White Linen Shirt

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Seeing the outline of curves beneath your white linen shirt
I’m trying to focus on the words you so eloquently say
I respect you completely, but I’m a weak man
Allowing my primal urges to get in my mind’s way

A Palpable Desire

A palpable desire
Feeling it from deep within
Drowning my anxiety
Beneath 4 olives, vermouth & gin
Supposed to be a functioning adult
But I say bollocks to all that noise
It wasn’t all that long ago, still
Running the streets with the boys
Though I dress better now
The soul leaking through cracks
My heart is a fragile commodity
Foreboding the oncoming attack

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