Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2012
When my baby's web of Whispers
                                  screams I love you in my ear,
    it echos through  grey matted cranium
                                  sending messages ear to ear.

My synapse snapping,
           and gravity collapsing,
    a host to the sensual, 
            muti-dimentional..
                    no such word as fear.

                                It really slays me
                                when I see it disappear.

When we make love my ego burns in effigy sending naked stars to fall.
                                 there is nowhere I'd rather be,
                                  it's a natural born lover's ball.

Candles kissing the air, flickering flame of release, total estacy,  
it's not just *** to me, a forgiving rush of peace,
                                         I stand in wait, waiting for your call,
                                         oh will the feeling never cease...
                                    No four-way flashing, not only fore-play happening,
                                                      ­       no yield sign to stop me now.
                                      Like a gold mine, she'll be tappin' me,
                                                     yes, right in the kisser    pow!
      
                                         My baby is drama free... if anyone creates confusion    that would be me.
                                                             ­                                                                 ­        
                                
                    Everything is oh so fine,
                                yes, I'm hers and she's mine.
                                                   It is one slipping
                                                      shift on into the sublime. 
                                         That's the way i want it
                                      not exactly every ones cup of tea
                                                           still, she brings it on for me. 
                                

                     © 2013
This is a work in progress and is subject to much change. Lord knows what the final piece will look like.

12/12/12...last time we see triple digits for a date.     This may very well be complete.
13/12/12. Still going.
Irving MacPherson
Written by
Irving MacPherson  home
(home)   
1.0k
     Timothy, victoria and Irving MacPherson
Please log in to view and add comments on poems