This is a poem to warn you of the licentiousness,
the lewdness, the lasciviousness and downright
wickedness of language, especially,
the evil consonants.

Consider, for example, the subtle sibilant 's', seemingly innocuous,
but the consonant first heard in ***.  
And take the letter 'l', standing up *****,
the stiff one in this lustful alphabet.
All boys know about the upright 'l',
as in blind, which they'll go if they play with it
too much, double 'l', well, they'll end up in hell.

The consonant 'b' stands for ***, of course,
everyone knows 'b' for ***,
the bold, barefaced, brazen one,
or, on all fours, raised up, the buttocks form an 'm',
with an inverted 'v' between the legs.
And 'c'!  'C' stands for - for,  no, no.  I can't.
Let's just say 'c' is curled up, crafty, by the coccyx, where it lurks,
cramped and damp, hopefully curtailed.

And 'p'.  Well, 'p' is 'p', just as bad as 's' 'h' with a 't'.
And what about  'f'? Don't worry, I'll give that one the flick, dead quick.
'f' starts a word that's totally perverted.
If you think I'll use the 'f' and add the 'c' 'k',
you'll have to wait another day.

Then contemplate spreadeagled 'x',
the final letter in the word of ***!
These consonants are wanton.
'W' has its legs up in the air. 'w' is wild and wet. Wicked, wicked.
'n' is bent over.  Naughty, naughty!

And 'y', why, 'y's the legs together and the ***** area.
Also, be wary of people who like the 'g' spot in there a lot,
also those who roll their 'r's too much
and others who lash out with s and m.
'r' and 'g' and 's' and 'm' end up in ******!

I believe the higher incidence of ****** offence is due to the influence
of consonants.  It's no coincidence. The evidence is that *******
is social as well as ******, of course,
and there's a preponderance of consonants in *******.
Such coitus should be interruptus
before these consonants totally corrupt us.

Now, the only course for moral rectitude
against such a sinful attitude with the grossest moral turpitude
is vigilance. With discipline and diligence,
we must become the moral militants
in the fight against the sibilants,
the awful incidence of decadence,
and the absence of innocence,
that's the evil consequence
of all the cunning consonants.
Otherwise incontinence with consonants
will be forever on our conscience!

Now. Think of every ***** word you can. This sin will be absolved in heaven!
Yes, ******* has five consonants, testicles has six and ******* seven!
Gynecological has eight, fresh spermatozoa ten and prosthetic devices eleven!
Repent! Repent! Redemption lies with you.  
It's true!  Think of it! If you eschew the consonants in all evil or ugly,
you'll be left with the purity of 'a', 'e', 'i' 'o' 'u'.

Mike T Minehan

Now blissfully engaged, in this most intimate act,
Our bodies do frolic in the playground of our loving boudoir.
I have committed to sightless memory, every curve of your beautiful form,
And my hands slowly recall your soft geography.

Your deep coos and murmurs stir my primal senses,
To a heavenly plane, elevated, as I extend lingual kisses to the center of your soul.
Your impassioned and skillful ministrations upon my ardor, I can't catch my breath;
I read the emotion and devotion in your eyes as they look up deep into mine.

Me aloft of you in slight embrace, I deliberately yet slowly ingress your warmth,
You hold me still, savoring this space, before now riding this ocean's waves, ebbs and tides.
Perhaps due to the intermittent pressure of our coupling upon your abdomen,
You give way to an audible flatulent moment, we laugh uncontrollably in each others' arms.

Our noses and our cachinnation stem the tide of this ill-timed olfactory assault,
The blush in your cheeks from embarrassment only makes me hold you closer, tighter.
In synchronous ecstasy, we continue our **** horizontal dance to joyful satiated fruition,
Your head lies resting upon my chest, as we hold hands over my heart.

Despite what smells should ever emanate from either of us on any occasion, any instance,
I want you always to know;
I love you for the life of me,
I'll love you 'til the stinky end of us both.

-----ChawzzyScript

Rammed into an ill fitting life
like a cheap suit,
bursting it's seams,
it's ripped open fabric falling to the floor,
like the tears that flow from my eye's.
So here I stand, naked,
no more clothes left on the rail,
no vestiture to hide my shame,
just the coitus interruptus,
as the day slips out of my soul.