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 May 2020
Poetic T
Try wanking with your
   big toe and longer
               toe-ish part..

Its like a ******* with out
                          the awkwardness..

  Except your palm gets jealous,
  and starts showing the pressure
it can put on this
                                relationship..

Jealousy is a digit
not giving a grasp when needed,
              cos you choose another appendage.
 Jun 2018
her
I am your favorite poets favorite rhyme.
He wants to speak me, just so he can feel my name echo in his mouth.
It rolls off the tip of his lips, in elegant loops,
I follow them into the air.
He kisses my curves and turns them into cursive,
And when I wind my body slow
He sings all my verses.
He speaks my language
When he speaks in tongue,
And when I’ve had enough
He doesn’t let me run.
I exist solely in verbs
I am what he does.

Ive came...
To be....
The...

Song that always gets stuck in his head..
Every time you hear him faintly hum,
it is me strumming his vocal chords gently.
I lay bare across his blank sheets
readily awaiting
the next time he is to rhyme me again.
Painting pictures with his voice
using my skin as his canvas.
Brown was never his favorite color
Until he kissed my lips,
And melted into me.
It was all he saw,
And all he tasted
I glide on the tip
Of the edge of his mind
I am your favorite poets
Favorite, ******* rhyme
soft, sweet, temptations
 May 2018
Poetic T
Let me flick your bean
              Till you grow peas
                             Of ecstacy.
And I swallow everyone
                                 Moistly.
 Jan 2018
Poetic T
The crows did hover above life's crumbling
shadow, never one to be swallowed in the mumbling
screams of what kept even death away.
But life hangs like a noose slowly eroding the way.

Tears of black feathers fell, as darkness sailed on
a sea of eclipsing movements. Twilights black swan
collected on life, and then was static as life bled feeding
on the misgivings that fed a misguided needing.

Shallow where the echoes beneath onyx feeding,
as glimmering hope faded and the inevitable pleading.
For but one more collection of endurance fading.
Then silence as clouds descended, how death became degrading.
 Dec 2017
Poetic T
That carrot, what could be said a little girl gave her,
                    Well we wondered why an anatomically
Correct Miss Snow lady had such an amicable smile.

Her nose always seemed to descend to below,
                         She had a friend but his carrot was as
Limp as could be, it wasn’t his fault it’s the cold you see…

But never fear, where there is ingenuity there is away…
                 In their morning Miss Snow seemed to ice up below,
But she seemed to have a rather defrosted glow…

For when it was time for this artificial carrot to wind down,
              She evaporated in pleasure but Mr Snowman was still there
***** but no place to go. Poor Mr Snowman,
                                                          we'll blame it on the cold…
 Dec 2017
Poetic T
Her ******* were like damp snow,
       teasing but letting my fingers
tread lightly.

She felt ever motion, the imprints
of my wonderings were left
                in the cotton of damp fingerprints.

I never went below the snow,
         sometime
just treading lightly,
       is enough to make her moan.
 Jul 2017
Poetic T
I could do tricks with those fingers
balancing acts of precision breath
was controlled for this moment.

One false move, and that moment lost,
sighs were heard, head shamefully hung.
As I would have to start over once again.

"OK fingers don't fail me now, I rotated  
getting a rhyme, I heard the excitement
as she released her ecstasy on fingers.

I was her fidget spinner, fingers fine
tuned to do those tricks to make her
world spin, she fidgeted in ecstasy.
 Jul 2017
Poetic T
I waded in her love canal,
swimming deep.

Letting the waters splash
                     over me...

Against the tide of her emotion,
the waters became still, relaxed.

I was submerged,
                       relaxing within her.
Till it was my time to feed
                                     her inner thirst.
 Jul 2017
Poetic T
Swallowing every drop,
                     licks her lips.


Like a bee guzzling nectar....
 Jun 2017
K Balachandran
Away from the nicely lit place,
where guests chatted and giggled,
we sat face to face, in the after glow
of our smoldering new found love,
for quite a while,wondering within us,
how could emotional fireworks blow up
amidst prolonged pandemonium,like this?
Words to us, seemed quite out of place
I just gazed and gazed in to her eyes
she blushed,like a first time kisser.
A faint beam from a distance, made her
emotionally charged  face look all  aflame.
Her nostrils pretty attractive,perfect rings
looked flared,like an animal's,I noticed
that catches a scent, awaited for long;
seemed like she had an urgent need to express.
I had a guess, but her words were distracting,
"I love your fingers"she lisped, my index finger
on the right hand she started to pet,
"It's so enticing"she spoke as if
she substitutes a thing for one different.
as the compulsion was such.
Time stood still, in the middle,but that wasn't a hitch!
I remembered she had to leave, shortly
but the tide of our passions was flooding still,
so we created darkness at will around us.
 Apr 2017
Poetic T
I asked her to blow the dust of my bean bags,
she looked at me like I was asking of something ungiven.

But she cleansed them within a volume of gargled verse,
vacuuming the soiled reminisce of who's last tongue
had woven there words of lust upon them.

"You dumped me, we were on a break,

But teeth are sharper than a particular female anatomy.

Saying a few syllables in gargled verse,

"This is my **** gun,  "And your fired,

"We were on a BREAK,

I had so many stitches that my ***** looked Frankenstein's
face, never ******* a woman when she has your bean bags
in her mouth, tears of crimson fell as I fainted.
#adult #stupid #***** #humour
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