unfurl, ****
you
unfurl thy keep
thy treasured reaches
thy skirt
unveal
reveal
part thy lambchops
reveal thy wizened wizard
that which
roots my beanstalk
loose
thy knowledge that staves thee
tames thee
from groping my protuberant wit,
my charms unrelenting,
my succulent form
leave it
not
on the park bench
beneath Halloween's flickering
lamp post
beneath your cares
that the devils do
and you saunter on
unabiding of my youth
my proof of libidinal might
how dare thee, sap me
of time?
I bid myself
o'er the mountain
again
o'er the dams, between fantasy and hell
between blood-pumping
temple-thumping
heart-racing ******
FEEL the rush, as Niagara,
or,
my aorta, my carotid, my femoral
my articles of impeachment
the flows of time, and desire,
I deplore, and impeach, how you
resist me
tempt me in my, self-conceited, vain
obsessive love of you,
and dash you
your forehead
that executive in your high tower
the function of your derision of me
the frontal assault of my dejection
like a nutcracker, I break the wall
sunder the nut
solve the case
end the heresy
of your mammalian, higher-evolved, mate-selection perfect lack of appeal in me
I honor your choice
to choose better men,
but, please,
take the edge off
take a load off
or on - perhaps my loads of laundry
the tides and ebbs of carnal celebration
I levy against your claim
that I
am a bore
a sycophant of the vagaries
of good manners
a "good boy", a tease, a näive "cute" little man
busying himself with ***** raunchy, hot-to-trot, nonsense babes,
like your mother
...
let alone you - the cream of the crop
the diamond in the center-mass of the earth's core
the jewel of the gab
talk of the century
how your legs cut the attentions
of crowds
like scissors, when you walk
stealing them
away
from more "important" things
such as baking
holding the baby
cutting someone's neck-beard,
or, holding my attention
yes,
I went there - don't bore ME, I counter,
I beg
as if I could wager, ante, or even bet
or bark an auction-moment heckle
against the too-low price
other men
are willing to pay
to have you
not
merely
for "one" night, NAY, never!
For one lifetime, "I beseech thee!", I bid
Don't ignore ME!
Come closer
...
learn my game
...
how the pheasants all-got got
and my oven knew the temperature, by rote
how Thanksgiving was my ode to you
as I embark
on the pilgrimage
I'm that pilgrim
settling down to feast
head between your thighs
like I'm rocking to my favorites
headphones on, I'm your saddle
ride me,
onward[!]
to terminate that death-star immortally trained to ruin YOUR painstaking, hard-won *******
YES
I'm calling that inner hunger
in your
boudoir
teasing it out
dressing you down
draining the pool of tension
between us
like that nasty, gurgling, rattling -SSsUCK- of a straw,
in an emptying
soda can
how I'll not make you dry
how,
if you were the earth,
you'd be running out of desert
in Nevada AND Arizona
in Namibia AND the Emirates
you'll be oil slick
and I'll be the prince of paradise - you
as my pilgrimage rounds the corner
not to mecca
but to Eden
how I
yearn,
tasting the eves of you
how I'll
perch,
on the eaves of abandon
of sanity, hope, loss, and reason
just to tell you
admit to you
deeply,
to your soul,
in your heart of hearts,
that
...
WAIT! Where are you going?!
I wasn't finished!
Were you...? [GULP]
Dec 27, 2025
Dec 27, 2025 at 6:56 PM UTC
unfurl, ****
you
unfurl thy keep
thy treasured reaches
thy skirt
unveal
reveal
part thy lambchops
reveal thy wizened wizard
that which
roots my beanstalk
loose
thy knowledge that staves thee
tames thee
from groping my protuberant wit,
my charms unrelenting,
my succulent form
leave it
not
on the park bench
beneath Halloween's flickering
lamp post
beneath your cares
that the devils do
and you saunter on
unabiding of my youth
my proof of libidinal might
how dare thee, sap me
of time?
I bid myself
o'er the mountain
again
o'er the dams, between fantasy and hell
between blood-pumping
temple-thumping
heart-racing ******
FEEL the rush, as Niagara,
or,
my aorta, my carotid, my femoral
my articles of impeachment
the flows of time, and desire,
I deplore, and impeach, how you
resist me
tempt me in my, self-conceited, vain
obsessive love of you,
and dash you
your forehead
that executive in your high tower
the function of your derision of me
the frontal assault of my dejection
like a nutcracker, I break the wall
sunder the nut
solve the case
end the heresy
of your mammalian, higher-evolved, mate-selection perfect lack of appeal in me
I honor your choice
to choose better men,
but, please,
take the edge off
take a load off
or on - perhaps my loads of laundry
the tides and ebbs of carnal celebration
I levy against your claim
that I
am a bore
a sycophant of the vagaries
of good manners
a "good boy", a tease, a näive "cute" little man
busying himself with ***** raunchy, hot-to-trot, nonsense babes,
like your mother
...
let alone you - the cream of the crop
the diamond in the center-mass of the earth's core
the jewel of the gab
talk of the century
how your legs cut the attentions
of crowds
like scissors, when you walk
stealing them
away
from more "important" things
such as baking
holding the baby
cutting someone's neck-beard,
or, holding my attention
yes,
I went there - don't bore ME, I counter,
I beg
as if I could wager, ante, or even bet
or bark an auction-moment heckle
against the too-low price
other men
are willing to pay
to have you
not
merely
for "one" night, NAY, never!
For one lifetime, "I beseech thee!", I bid
Don't ignore ME!
Come closer
...
learn my game
...
how the pheasants all-got got
and my oven knew the temperature, by rote
how Thanksgiving was my ode to you
as I embark
on the pilgrimage
I'm that pilgrim
settling down to feast
head between your thighs
like I'm rocking to my favorites
headphones on, I'm your saddle
ride me,
onward[!]
to terminate that death-star immortally trained to ruin YOUR painstaking, hard-won *******
YES
I'm calling that inner hunger
in your
boudoir
teasing it out
dressing you down
draining the pool of tension
between us
like that nasty, gurgling, rattling -SSsUCK- of a straw,
in an emptying
soda can
how I'll not make you dry
how,
if you were the earth,
you'd be running out of desert
in Nevada AND Arizona
in Namibia AND the Emirates
you'll be oil slick
and I'll be the prince of paradise - you
as my pilgrimage rounds the corner
not to mecca
but to Eden
how I
yearn,
tasting the eves of you
how I'll
perch,
on the eaves of abandon
of sanity, hope, loss, and reason
just to tell you
admit to you
deeply,
to your soul,
in your heart of hearts,
that
...
WAIT! Where are you going?!
I wasn't finished!
Were you...? [GULP]
This was a really fun jab at the "dating game" where hook-up artists, and pick-up artists, and dating-coaches, all implore you "it's a numbers game".
How they obsess over the ability to "talk a good game" but leave out the respect of women (that they'd give their mothers, but not their marks, eternal girlfriends, and "situationships") the sacredness of their bodies, their time, their emotions, and their human rights.
I've played it, that numbers game, and sometimes, I could have said, it's never a "numbers game" when you have a genuine interest in an individual woman (as a man - the *** expected to be the ones who "invite", who are, also, expected to compete against being the *** that is "invited").
I used to treat literally every single woman like she was worth my time, and that changed the element of what a "numbers game" usually shakes out to be: exhausting!
I have a love for romance (heterosexually) that's endless, and I love LOVE itself.
This poem is about, in some or every capacity, chasing "ungettable" women and being non-stop about it, which is something, you could say, I'm expert in, LOL (respectfully).
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this!
-DEW
