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Derick Van Dusen Sep 2014
Milk is where we meet in sweet
sticky surrender to honeydew feet
Bow to the pleasure of flesh and flood
Bow to the taste of honey and blood
We are but that which created this flesh
Our milky white sinfully delicious goodness
We come as we please but are we to tease

Do we know what we do when we fall to our knees
We slip and we slide, in honey we glide
we poor out of flesh to crave of desire
where our milk falls pooling, heated in ire
We **** and we poke each dip of the skin
We play with honey as if it's a sin
What have we to do but role in our lust
and drink of this sweet sticky milk we must.
Derick Van Dusen Sep 2014
She is but honey where pure, perfect passion races

Flowing in all the right  satisfyingly sensual places

Somewhere between the slippery sheets digress

A sumptuous tease in a temptingly playful caress

I drip my hands slowly down her bare naked chest

Salty sweet, a delightfully tasty, slow sticky treat

She is the liquid, languid on my wandering tongue

Rolling around in her mouth as she's stung

Hers is the pleasure in the warmth of her heat

Warm flowing honey on milky white flesh
Derick Van Dusen Sep 2014
Green hat sat red worn
Blocked by empty vision
Red hat lay green torn
A traditional Japanese Haiku as I understand them to be written, though not in a single vertical line in the traditional Japanese form.
Derick Van Dusen Sep 2014
As the fire builds from tips of toes so too do the woes.

Oh my the passion rising from depths of lust to the core of wanting


I must have that which is denied, the kind of thing seen but not eyed.

I must posses that beautiful being, I am in need of her heartened sting.

She tickles and teases her way from my toes and on up my legs her passion goes.

She stops just short of my yearning thighs and whispers sweet nothings, "hellos and goodbyes"

She continues her fingers on their wonton ride. Motionless, breathless, she lies in wait as she claws at my side.

Bighting back the sting of the pain, I writhe in ecstasy as I scream out her name.

She digs in deeper, drawing tears to my eyes. I moan softly and whimper, covering my cries.

Demanding I do as she tells me to do, I fall to my knees and worship her shoe.

She demands attention and have it she will. She is my passion, my fire and thrill.
Derick Van Dusen Sep 2014
We're as fake as the plastic melting under our skin

The collective imagination of a societal binge

Our beauty is a mask, a lie told to us by magazines

The product of industrial dreams, all fantastic schemes

We live in a Barbie Doll world, where we worship fake *******

We lift weights at Gold's Gym while we pound our huge chests  

We know nothing of true beauty, under the fa├žade of the Glossy

Eight by Ten

We cover our blemishes and we can't even be comfortable in our own skin

We are infatuated with the surface, skin deep, lustful of the pretenses  

Our masks hide our vulnerabilities and our true intent

While reality is crumbling at our feet and we hide beneath a veneer of

A glossy face shot, the airbrushed images on the cover-girl-poster-boy-pin-up centerfold

   We've lost sight of the aged and the gifts they hold

Celebrities ride around in window tinted limousines, so they can't be seen but we're so pretty that we have to preen

The paparazzi all want the next shot for the next scandal but they airbrush that too

We are so busy believing the lies that we have become afraid of the truth

Camera's are as ubiquitous as grass and our privacy is all but laughable while our smiles aren't genuinely affable

We post pictures of ourselves on Facebook, yet our self esteem could use a second look

We talk each other up and beat each other down, but we're keeping it onehundred while hiding a frown

We've become fast paced and slow witted, we're breaking the seams that our families knitted

We place beauty on a pedestal and worship at its alter, but we fail to foster true beauty in our children and wonder why they falter

We listen to society and shun our parents, our role models have become degenerates

We allow our little girls to  dress like tramps and wear makeup and our little boys don't respect them and treat them like toys

And we wonder why they cut themselves  

We pay movie stars and football players millions so we can entertain ourselves

But we can't pay our teachers enough to educate the masses

yet it's okay to collect a check and sit on our *****

And our troops don't have the armor they need because of our self indulgent greed

We forget about the little guy as we climb the corporate ladder to survey the sky at the top

But when the **** goes down, we can't pick up a mop

We won't lift a finger to lend a hand because we're so afraid of our fellow man
Derick Van Dusen Sep 2014
I am the unseen in the corner of the seen

I am that which you hear but cannot hear

The thing, incipient, in the corner of your mind

The way and truth of the kind

I am that which you fear but you know nothing of fear

Here, in this place, you are lost to me, you are dead to me

Here, now, I see only a vacant spot

A diminutive existence of what used to be, a nothing, a void

You are an empty shell dashed on your own hardened heart

That little less than a piece of falling apart

You are the beginning of the falling apart.

A waste of time and space

You are disgraced among men of your kind

And in time you will be nothing more

Than a forgotten fragment of memory.
Derick Van Dusen Sep 2014
I would shine upon the gloom
I would take away the frown
Granted your wish to me

I would bloom in your heart
I would comfort your soul
Growing in the ****

I would watch over you my child
I would help you along your path
Blessing fall upon you

I would desire to come true
I would write a life anew
Sleep in love my child

I would think only of peace
I would think only of you
Think of me always.
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