Deathreat Man sent Mrs.Deathreat to the continent,
dud doves smuggled thru the Chunnel in her clungeal
cavity, but even the Olympicwatchdog’s
human snifferdogs wouldn’t conduct a narc
nosedive into Mrs.Deathreat’s Annsummersnumber,
coz the amount of drugs in the drugs
the Deathreats deal is next to nil,
contrabland, all the scorer chorma
minus the highness. Mrs. Deathreat
was mule with a hole, she was
Muffin the Muff, but hug drugs up her clopper
kept the pillheads of La Rochelle
social clodhoppers who danced like Joecocker,
so they sent
themselves to bed early outta pity
for their own unhappening, nonfunspasming
hips. They wanted to be eating their upperlips,
they were brownedoff that the grey gradegetter their mums
had maximised with Omega3 hadn’t had its chips,
in no danger of being Gallic Gatecrasherkids.
They wanted to be braiMDaMAged,
Bezzes in berets on duracell drugs, balistically
blissed enuff for
Balearic drill ‘n’ bass drum ‘n’ gluegun
bhangraggabba Gangsta Abba or the Triphopscotch,
but they were no buzzing sitting ducks
for whatever vibranium vinyl
spun like Lindablair’s head or whatever Tonyblair eversaid
on decks that layer beats.
On the plusside, none of Mrs.Deathreat’s fleeced Frenchies
would do a Leahbetts, but that would not console
the Pillheads of La Rochelle, les herberts, still tediously
on their cognitits unless the Angel Ravey L
- pushermanifestation of the patron saint of getting mashed -
up some of that numinous shit
a miracle drug effective without ingestion, Immaculate
Consumption, when all the laws of biochemistry go Petetong.
But, alas, riboflavin and ibuprofen are harder and more
cerebrum more signals of fly bo’ ravin’
than shonk Es Mrs.D
squelchily dealt from out crotchless unmentionables.
Now, the technotarantist addicts d’Avignon,
les personnes adonnees a ‘aving one
from Provencal Pontefract-on-the-Rhone
(where Picasso pimps scrimp
coz Cubist hookers ain’t lookers),
les avaleurs of mitzies and bishies
rather than le plonque (rouge ou blanc),
wou’nt ‘ave it if they weren’t ‘aving it
in that wellaged wine of a town.
They’d be sent spare
if Mrs.Deathreat dared diddle ’em there
with fraudulent Franglais avowals that they’d
‘avoir it large, Pierre!’
There’d be stormin’ Bourbons in Avignon, yeah,
if they couldn’t electwitch to DJ Saintvitus
because of some shite doves. Adamdroppers
in Avignon know their discobiscuits
from their biscodiscuits, comprende?
But the Pillheads of La Rochelle? Quelle pillocks!
XTCtablet escroquette sent by her deaththreatening
not dishwashening husbandit,
madame des merde mollies sent shit shivers
of letdown lucidity thru the cuddle puddle jungle
drums that pure vexes the cortexes of Senors Beeg
amongst thizz biz fixers, the Cortez Bruvas.
As young fluff she'd boasted more
overzealous sweaty inspectors than Ofsted,
but now Mrs Deathreat's hairy goblet
would be of sweet fanny adams interest
to the syndicate if only her fanny adams were sweeter.
Funnily enough, fact her serpent socket
is no Aladdin’s cave of Hacienda Hedex,
but more an Anadin Cove of dummy drugs
has dem Cortez muthas jumpy thugs.
Traffikers of Lover’s Speed in hock
to the Sam Madrid mob, they express
narcommercial concerns that mock mookers
up her thrushenflamed damianduff
are so cuttonaffall, it could senda fad for temperance
thruout chemiculture of a continent,all
the bluerooms and dancetents of Europa
being once burnt, twice straight
(or turn respectable taxpaying pissheads,
staying in caining an unprohibited crate or eight,
pickling themselves to preserve the State).
But before suspicion about the serotonocidal
supplyline snowballs, before the Cortezes
even depart the chilloutroom to kill,
or at least put les frighteneurs on her and the tangy
baggie of humbug harryhills, whack weekenders
up her suspenders and past her pudenders,
his missus was already on the homewardbound Eurostar
- for her darling Deathreat was a disastrous
domestic selffender, who'd sent a guava
to the vet's and put her Pomeranian in the blender,
tho' pertainian to value of life he's vilipender,
so to animedic aforementioned prolly not
Snoopy smoothie sender,
unless off the invoice for the guava's jabs
it might scare up a nice little subtrahender.
He wrote words that enticed her
whispered musings to seduce her
made her body tingle without touch
cajoled her heart with bleeding ink
He was half the world away
yet, she felt him so close
he connected with every part
body, soul, heart and mind
Every word was woven on her heart
his voice echoed, enchanting gracefully
intoxicating every beat of her life
the distance had become too much
He heard a knock on the door
there she was dressed in black
her aroma grabbed his senses
her smile left him helpless
Eyes locked in serene silence
he could hear her heart pulsating
as he placed his palm on her cheek
her whole body felt paralysed
as the hair on her neck raised
calmly he stroked her dark hair
beautifully elegant, complimenting
her soft tender delicate bronze skin
gently he placed his lips on her mouth
succulently kissing her glowing lips
finally tasting his beloved's nectar
Her eyes shut with ecstatic delirium
he kissed every part of her body
she no longer had any control
as he cultivated her body
planting his seed deep inside
passionately she whispered his name
as their bodies harvested
thrusting deeper and faster
with his tongue carving every inch
of her body like a chisel
Volcanic desire erupted
his words were now her reality
his embrace her sanctuary
as he held her tight
to never let her go
It needn’t even be a word --
just a mere sound emanating from your lips
penetrates me deep, flips an electric switch,
gets me buzzing, fluttering with an energy that emits
a charge so strong it moves me along
into immediate, stupefied orbit.
So often have I heard those breathless words
transferred from your throat to my heart.
It jumpstarts my blood and seizes my lungs
and vibrates me right apart.
Your conductivity builds effortlessly,
sparking a reaction within me,
as you arrest and possess with a binding current
that overrides and drives me completely.
Magnetic, your essence courses and runs,
powering me up and turning me on,
so that my mind is never mine for long
as inside me you electrify your dawn.
I am attracted to the static of you --
utterly drawn like electron to photon.
Absolutely seduced, addicted and fused
to the friction of your diction.
Your voice is most bewitching –
a persistent, elevating conductor
that beautifully orchestrates this excited state
into an accompaniment like no other:
I am the lightning flash of your allure amassed --
a sudden jolt of ecstatic shudder.
Desperately urging the next surging rumble
of your sweet and rousing thunder.
The feel of skin on skin,
The feeling of clothes being pulled torn off,
The push of her hands to make me move,
The feel of her hands trailing over my body,
The tingle the leave,
The feel of luxurious lips kissing my skin,
The final push the gasp of pleasure,
The joining of two hearts and soul,
The glorious Ecstasy.
Have me i'm yours.
Take me i'm yours.
Own my i'm yours.
i like to dance
with the devil
burning eyes upon me
in hypnotic dazzle
my toes easily
sweep away inhibitions
quieting my angelic
as whispered words
brush thine ear
my entranced ego
has no fear
as it may be
our bodies entanglement
with soaring thoughts
we ebb and flow
in erotic mystery
seduced in music
i dance willingly
all you did was
simply and slowly
run them in my hair
and lo and behold !
of joy burst open
inside me and
carried me awash to
depths of ecstasy
i had never been
i was still ecstatic
i never saw the coming
of that soft
kiss on my lips
which pulled me
out of my depths
and whirled me up
to heights of joy
that i had never seen.
all this while
simply and slowly
in my hair.
how do you do it ?
this using of your fingers
like magical wands.
My love for your sake I can bear any pain
In severe cold winter without attire in rain
I can smilingly take all contempt and disdain
People may call me just lunatic and insane
Let me tell you about ecstasy and the taste
My heart remains pure my soul is so chaste
I don't know to whom in lunacy I embraced
I am in my staunch lover apparently defaced
My love travels in me and I travel in trance
He wants me badly and I also take a chance
I do not know if it was a blunder or a glance
What my eyes see now we both are in dance
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow