"climaxes" poems
Last night I cried myself to sleep thinking about you,
the ********** chemistry that we used to share over
the midnight campfire, our sleek bodies rising in passion
with each bursting flame, deep shifting fingers pressed
up against thick sheets, as our ankles and thighs
harmonized and smiled, glossy green eyes filled
with lust and immense thoughts. Your soul was
calling out to me in the nighttime sky,
vibrant skin sifting inside timeless climaxes
and rewinds, shimmering lights and hypnotic
gleams, an ocean of water and poetry gliding on
booming beats. The world began to sink inside
our romance, the horniness of our hot flesh sizzling
in sparking temptations, deep designs and glimmering
patterns. And as our nations made music over earth’s
creation, brilliant escapes and captivating depths,
you were the magnificent star inside my kingdom,
the purest existence that could illuminate the fire
inside eyes.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
*If you were my sheets, and at my beck and call
fulfilling all my fantasies, into you, I would fall.
You'd cradle me so gently, and massage me everywhere
releasing all my juices, and all my stress, and cares.
In splendor we'd heat up the room, and I'd crinkle every sheet
and when we were apart, I'd rejoice, every time we meet.
Pillows would cradling my face and head, where jasmine scented rests
blending of our fluids as our bodies, orgasmically attest.
We'd fall asleep together, and spoon throughout the night
and in the morning waking, to unimaginable delights.
Your hands of silken sheets caressing, exciting every nerve
giving me all the pleasures, and climaxes, in you, I am immersed!*
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
One word is all it takes
To explode a seemingly
Perfect output
Smashed! One nose
Dive after the other
Straight as a pole turned,
Askew with every turn.
A jab, a punch
as scraps appear.
A pinch and a puncture
Hurts like never before.
Until blood and matter
Sprayed on the cold asphalt
While everything occurs,
You watch. Soundlessly
It takes effect but you
Just watch it happen
You realize one singular,
Grand idea whilst pain climaxes
Life goes on.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
It's always been you!
If only you realized how much you mean to me,
Not a moment goes by when I don't stop to think about you,
Your peculiarity alone can do that,
And, that's always been you!
What makes you so special?
In layman terms,
You are my greatest strength
And, my greatest weakness.
The serenity in your halcyon heart,
The charisma of your captivating eyes,
The elegance in your illustrious smile,
The tenderness of your seductive lips,
The spark in your gentle touch,
The gracefulness of your alluring neck,
The radiance in your dazzling lustrous hair,
The lure of your hypnotizing heaving *****
The haven in your scintillating navel,
The holiness of your ravishing waist,
The sanctity of your fascinating hips,
The wickedness in your mesmerising curves,
For my hopes lie on,
The gateway to your heart,
That is now open,
Through the divine pathway in your sacred forest,
Filled with untold and concealed secrets,
And, mysteries unknown to man,
For I hope to touch, nurture and caress,
Every deep wall in you,
For you are the prayer to my appetite,
And, the incarnation of my desires,
It is now that I get the privilege of being a being,
To realize,
You complete me!
You are desire,
You are passion,
The inspiration for wanting more in life,
The personification of loving life itself.
The paragon of my eroticism,
And, not an end will there be,
For my ***** crave,
To be destroyed,
By the ****** dynamite you are.
An eternal pleasure in sensual misery you are,
And, a heaven in my hell,
The zenith of all climaxes,
And, the paradigm for my resurrection.
The yearning for the man in me,
You are!
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
An agent of assonance,
An army of alliteration,
A conquistador of climaxes,
A fighter with form,
A marksman of motif,
A mercenary of metaphors,
A ninja of nuances,
A raider of rhyme,
A soldier of synonyms,
A vigilante of voice,
I strike with the fiercest of sentences,
With such clarity and no false pretenses,
I assail with the mightiest of swords,
I am a warrior of words.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 8:18 AM UTC
O pulchritudinous, for infinite climaxes
For bilious spasms of pigswill
For puce Popacatepetl pedigrees
Above the perverted pampas!
America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee
And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk, from brothel to gay red—light district
O pulchritudinous, for spaceman bottoms
Whose **** throbbing tapeworm
A toucan crossing for slipperiness spifflicate
Across the intergalactic space!
America! America! Allah enrich thine ev’ry vice
Reinvigorate thy ****** *********** inside monolithic ectoplasm, thy merrymaking inside pyramid!
O pulchritudinous, for freaks got fat
In disentangling feeding frenzy
Who more than ***** their brothel slobbered over
And velvet glove more than backbone!
America! America! May Allah thy blonde exhaust
Till all rave reviews be disreputableness and ev’ry come superhuman
O pulchritudinous, for chauvinist muscleman
That smells wide of the fourth dimension
Thine lathery brothels lick
Polished using giant armadillo excrement!
America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee
And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk from brothel to gay red—light district
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
Anna's kiss hit harder,
than most ****** climaxes--
left me stuttering,
sidestepping, scared of the
what's next?
Anna's hair on fire,
billowing smoke and
beckoning me to come in--
left me boiling,
bracing, barely conscious
of what's left?
Anna's bed of nails,
bled out and breathing--
left me dangerously
dumb, deaf
of what's she saying?
Anna's sharpened heels,
daggered the docile beige carpet--
left me sweating,
sighing, searching for further savior
in what are we?
Anna's black fingernails,
sunk into my shoulder--
left me lonely,
lusting, lashing in empty parking lot
now knowing,
rebirth requires a death.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 10:18 AM UTC
Back when we used to record
sensual songs in the studio,
adrenaline beats rising in a ray
of waves, sweet rich sounds
filled with so much energy.
I could feel the rhythm of your
warm seas soaked in juicy
fluids spark my soul.
The delicious chemistry
touching everywhere down
to the depths of my existence,
soft liquid syllables sifting
inside my milky bronze skin,
as your melanin hands harmonized
with my vivacious cheeks,
head spinning vocals reaching outer
midnight dimensions of high climaxes.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 8:52 PM UTC
I get scared easily.
And I always have persisted to allow my mind to be torn out when I let it affect me.
They say, "Worst case scenario is rare." in most situations.
I have yet to seek why they ignore worst case, become it, leaving nothing left for the worst.
Habitually it creates an aggression with associates: replacement and correlation.
Without me noticing inevitably.
Behind.
This shadow that follows, desires its personification;
Consequently the main man must fall,
He will dissipate towards the rock where the one before him stood.
Rather take a spot of one greater, it is that of less higher.
A demotion of sort.
In order for it to transpose into progression, a compromise is of order.
The compromise of time, itself, playing the waiting game - (let us back step)
…replacement…correlation…
The understanding of this is of which I no longer feel that emotion;
It is configured by the other, making a statement which is unrecognizable.
So much, not even I, the speaker, can do anything to prove to you what I mean.
--For keeps sake--
This is no where near a poor pardon for my actions.
They are far from a credible stature. Far from a pity fete;
Indeed a fare apology is in par.
Yet this is a means of report to say in far value: worry.
It is of pure arrogance that I state this claim. Keep this in mind.
That I fear the replacement emotion shall take place in fair time once more.
As the tail is coming back again, second time to be specific.
And your steps in self-fulfillment climaxes,
The steps to which I take are mimicked to that of the first tail.
(The apex forms and your entitlement proclaims its spot.)
I wish it not, to be furthered in my rut.
As of the annum before, was explained by dis-valued ties.
This is not to which I think.
It is your confidence which speaks and separates your feet.
Placing one foot in one path, far ahead from the other.
As I stay with the other, while the other one is altered.
Being free as it walks along with out I.
I wish for an ignoring of replacement, and to this I will forcibly try.
For you, my love.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
3am in the morning and I'm strolling
you walk by looking like the choosen
eye contact and the chemistry explodin
body language speaking loudly, smiling as I close in
sundress, hair tied, matching purse looking wooven
pretty lips, beautiful satin eyes that matching your clothin
slim waist, thick thighs
hypnotized by your vibes
love at first sight
from first sight of your eyes
ask you where you from
as I walk you home
the more we talk, the more we vibe
before you know it, I'm sitting on your sofa
our hands are all over, lips are getting closer
mouths open wipe, bodies begging for closure
instinct taking over, bodies getting closer
climaxes reaching closure
laying side to side
and then its
over
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
compasses, clocks, knives, are useless now.
clues, few.
coffinlike rooms full of certain exclamations,
4am empty train stations full of dangling questions.
selected memory, particularly of being
cruel to love. character,
existence, poetry, it all becomes layered
like crime novels.
blurred and unblurred,
in stained-rag mind, faces and places and
the theme,
tense, it is an age
where nothing begins and i myself begin to
(be) mean
many other things
in addition to what i say.
"what is the meaning of this?"
"i don't know."
"what should we do?"
get jilted again, spiral drunk, die on the
floor, bored, playing
sick,
i don't know.
"been there,
done that,"
it's a slow slowing and a trying to forget,
hands dirtier, shards smaller.
i don't even know if
this was an accident?
through climaxes and comedowns,
still carrying clouds
around; to cash the check, to the party,
to the pharmacist,
to the burial ground,
craving a reason to go hungry.
god, how big are your hands
god, will tomorrow be better
god, what have i done, what can i do, how
the more i remember
the more i just remember the young day
i had screamed so hard for so long at the unanswering rain
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 5:05 PM UTC
Bring down the Blinds,
at Quarter past Eleven.
As Tonight the Two of Us,
shall both be in Heaven.
At Half past Eleven,
as I make Love to U.
I bring back fond Memories,
of the Love that U Knew.
As I play,
Puppet on your Show.
U Dictate positions,
which way We Go.
As your gentle Kisses,
Rain upon My Face.
I begin slowly,
Quickening up My Pace.
With each stroke of Mine,
U keep moaning My Name.
Dawn shines it's Light
and Climaxes both Our Flame.
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 5:40 AM UTC
Night fell on Montmartre and, gazing into my love's eyes
Over a candelit chequered tablecloth,
Beneath my belt lurked rancid lust,
The seams of my ******* oozing desire,
My groin drenched in desire for his wanton arse-flesh.
Streetlight shone through threadbare curtains
Harnessing proudly over my twitching buttocks;
My screamed climaxes echoing
In deepest recesses of Parisian dawnings.
My clear goal: swallow his salty comings.
Morning exposes a sordid scene to chambermaid's gawp:
Spreadeagled cold-as-chilled-salami bozo,
Puny synapses crushed like mashed strawberries
Blasted smithereens of overpowering *******
Like chicken's entrails in an unwashed sink.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
A "Memories" poem by the immortal Barry Hodges aka Edna
Night fell on Montmartre and, gazing into my love's eyes
Over a candelit chequered tablecloth,
Beneath my belt lurked rancid lust,
The seams of my trousers oozing love's sweet song,
My groin lumped in desire for her wanton arse-flesh.
Streetlight shone through threadbare curtains
Harnessing proudly over my pounding buttocks;
Hermione's screamed climaxes echoing
In deepest recesses of her third-rate mind.
My clear goal: swallow my salty comings, cow.
Morning exposes a sordid scene to chambermaid's gawp:
Spreadeagled cold-as-chilled-salami ****
Puny synapses crushed like mashed strawberries
Blasted smithereens of overpowering *******
Like chicken's entrails in an unwashed sink.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Adéifé, I can't wait to kiss your lips, suckle on your **** tease them till you ease, as I undress your hips down to your feet, slightly stroking your thighs as it heats, holding you from behind so your sweetbutt hardens me up more, squeezing your ******* as I swing you around and planting kisses on them as I lay you down afar a feet... Gush! You are sweet! Spreading your legs, my fingers alova your heated body that pleases, I'm not at ease... I can't wait to slowly **** you, till your body vibrates and you can't breath, yet I won't stop till you beg me please... Mo ti lala awa ri; deadly & sweet...
Giving you multiple pleasures, ******** tensions is one thing I promise... Last images of your ******* your waist, your hips and your twists turns me on right now, thoughts of me holding you in my hands boils me up... Fowo kan mii, Touch me
That moment when I slightly slowly hungrily and desirably enter you is a moment my body longs for... Kpe oruko mii, Call my name
I want to hold your waist from behind from dusk to dawn, turn you around and around as we passionately devour our cravings... In arms tight, breast to Chest, bodies kissing, intimate moaning, lips gaping, our shapes sardined, oiled with tensed sweats & breaths... Gush! Your ******* Jeka sere... Lets play.... Your eyes staring down at me as we echo, mime, duet and pitch our hearts' music and song in climaxes never felt... Till that awesome moment of nothing else existing but we and what we feel...
Aah Gush!
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
Hunched over the stove top,
meticulously folding melted chocolate
over and over itself
in infinite tides of glossy excellence.
Incorporating yolks into sugar
whips a wholesome protein
into sweet thick ribbons
that tumble from their metal beaters.
Milk and cocoa powder whisked
until ominous brown clouds
explode into the sky.
The slow incorporation of pieces
climaxes into a smooth custard,
so **** and luscious
you'll lick it off your own fingers.
Any attention that can be
drawn to your mouth is
good attention,
particularly that of homemade ice cream.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Anticipation climaxes
the moment you unscrew
that seal tight jar
keeping hazy secrets
locked away.
*You're about to touch the
snow-kissed mountain tops
and breath air so pure,
it distorts the very heartbeat*,
and that feeling granted only by the enemy
--sobriety--
drags you to hell itself.
It gets off tormenting your every particle of being
but you're clouded in a smokey shield and
wielding the winning sword colored ash black
(obsidian
volcanic
explosive)
Defeat is on the horizon
and you're so high above the battleground
that a giddy serenity enfolds you into the
golden-dipped sunset
But the height only lasts
for as long as you hold in
that choking air
and it's gone
and your sanity returns
and you've never felt
more insane
than ever
before.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
In bareness life sheds
Melting our essences
To fear our termination
In caskets it all ends
In excess life mends
A regeneration read
Generations transpired
For eons we existed
In neutral life tends
Unscripted to rest
Reassessed to subsist
Repressed to matter
Thou shan't fear death
Embraceth thine destiny
Immortalised in shrines
Till the universe climaxes
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
As the crowd engulfed me, I couldn’t help but
Scrutinize each person who brushed my side.
Each face unique which tells a distinct story.
Each story with its own plot, climaxes, and resolutions.
Each soul harboring its own worries and ambitions.
I’m overwhelmed by the vastness of the ocean I’m in,
A single fish among multitudes of all shapes and vibrant colors.
My story is merely a page among billions that comprise
The Story of Humanity.
A collection of individual histories that has propelled,
In one way or another, our species.
Every tear, drop of sweat, and ounce of effort
Has fueled the fire that blazes within us.
The Story of Humanity--
Bound by threads of fate,
Inked with blood of the fallen,
Soaked with ardent passions and desires,
Authored by love.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
your poetry is the
timid surgeon's
blade
your brainwashed disfigured filth
posing as poetry, glitter sprinkled
over horse ****
parasitic eager beavers
rattling off hollow sanitary words
from suburban armchairs
when you speak of passion...
I want the ivory joy
of licking teeth in black
cold nights of February
grabbing fistfuls of flesh
and desire
not your stiff ******** advertisement,
marketing zombie climaxes and red roses
of compulsion
when you speak of loss...
I want the acrid smell of burnt
hair, a scene of cinder and ashes,
a house of dreams smoked
by the arsons of addiction
and stupidity
not your camouflaged metaphors
of two dollar sunrises and legislated
loneliness, echoing off the empty walls
of narcissism
when you speak of hate...
I want cold bacon grease and blood
stuck to my tongue and dripping from
my mouth, to become a carnivore of ******
and liberated violence
not your confused assault
of cheap mouthwashed words
spat in basins of shallow
************
ah, **** it,
write what you will
but give more
poetry should
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Lips meet gently and then with force.
Dancing tongues and twisting bodies.
Straddling his core.
Gliding fingers and ***** *******
Arched backs and delicate pressure.
Passion dripping into his mouth.
Sweat drenched bodies and heightened pleasure.
Changing directions and comprised positions
Anticipating him inside.
Grasped waists and gratified senses.
Sticky messes and tight thrusts.
Bursting inside her.
Rolled back eyes and body convulsing climaxes.
Thirst quenched and hunger satisfied.
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 6:13 PM UTC
*in the soundtrack of my story,
there exists a lone percussionist...
and he plays to fit
the demands of passing moments.
•••
*to the calm he plays steady.
in uncertainty he hastens.
he matches the ticks of seconds
when all is quiet,
and he thunders
to crescendoes and climaxes.*
•••
in the symphony of my life
there exists a lone percussionist...
and he resides unseen in my chest.*
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 6:08 AM UTC
Gasping Breath
I’m running on hormones
Pleasure is my drug
I do the wrong
But it always feels right
I get high on climaxes
I’m running low on sleep
I’ll be yours for tonight
But in the morning you’ve got to go
I’m using you
I don’t care about your name
I don’t need to know who you are
You have what I need
Come fill me up
I’ll feed on what I hunger
I hunger your body
I don’t own you
And you don’t own me
It’s just a game
Just a fling
My emotions are out of it
Make sure yours are too
Let’s play tonight
And maybe tomorrow
I’ll call you the next time
I want a rematch
When I’m done with you
I want you gone
You can’t stick around
This is meaningless to me
When you finally decide
You’ve had enough
You’re replaceable
I won’t even notice you’re gone
I haven’t overdosed yet
I don’t plan to
I’m hungry for more
Always more
You’ll never get close enough
To get under my skin
You can lock yourself deep inside me
But that’s the closest you’ll ever get
I know it’s not satisfying
You want more
Always more
I won’t give you more
Give me your pleasure
And I’ll give you mine
But not more
Emotions aren’t part of the deal
I’m not a sore loser
I never lose
I’m addicted to pleasure
My hormones control me
I’m mindless
Soulless
But I’ve never felt
I’ve never been
So alive
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
If I were to write a book
Based upon the entire life of you
Including the smallest of detailed details
Such as how your breath stays in perfect four/four rhythm
But changes based on the slightest change of emotion
And the way your lip quivers more upwards than downwards
When you are struggling to keep your composure
And how the sensations you felt spread smoothly throughout
your body from the source like a wave
And all of the billion little details like this
All of the little details that make up your life
Your history
Your memories
Your love
Your life
Your pain
Your regrets
Your dreams
Your importance
I wouldn't be able to complete it
For all of the trees in the land
Accessible by man would be cut down
And used for paper just for this book
And yet, it still wouldn't be enough
Your history alone would take up several volumes
Every breath would be chapters
Your birthdays would take up dozen of pages each
Your tears make up the changes in the exposition throughout
And your laughs make up the climaxes of each part
Biographies are made about specific persons
Only describing their general history
But none of them can truly capture that person and their value
For there will never be enough words
Or enough pages
To completely convey how special someone is
How important you are
You are important.
Remember this.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:33 PM UTC
enticing and toxic is the remedy for all of this
chasing rainbows with short lived climaxes
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC