Tag: sex
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Puck Fair Puck Head Off
Number one, King Pecker Dunne If Spotify had him, England’d be didded gone inside an hour Power of sixty minutes each pushing around the circumference of Cronos’ slavery orange All is aflower Hours since sense last spoken, sentences rewinding like snagged reels Reaching pure sentiment, telling everyone how much they mean Talking about reinstating royal…
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Stormbound Any Port’ll Suffice
Navvies with pole rot giving knee tremblers to cotton-rogued dollies dockside Hempen hawser holds rocking boat Houario, who by morning hears Iberian arias and by evening thumbs claddagh rings in Irish bars Humping harder chasing little bardo Whore spends poundful hours pounded by Horatio, heave-hoe a drop of Nelson’s blood and he’s ready to go…
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Striptease
Marquis de Sade Prize winner marquis that ass Watching hips sway Sitting on suede Baton up, I’m on parade Seer how I see what’s coming next See her approaching me for sex Black brassiere strap When her head snaps back Her earrings dink like smacking scrap Down in the grass checking for tracks Found handprints…
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Redress
Got a fourfold vision, assailed without break I sail without break, I am the surface breaker You are fast, the better rapier handler I have been handled, kneeling panting Offer me a hand if first I will kiss your sandal My mail breaker mistakes you for Dracula, stakes you I walk up to the woman…
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Smoking Up Again
Fangorn forest how many trees on deck Greenfingered, wouldda called me Shrek Or had me saying Squaxx Dek Thargo It hits the target, I squeeze the roach Lift the embargo, it goes like a rocket barge past Birmingham arches Thought I saw Black Sabbath partying Face ID unlocks the screen Got a greater escape than…
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Drizzly Day Date Dublin
Lash raining Cab hailing Grips cold railing She’s gold, grailing Near to Grafton Trying to cold read her Taxi metre rocking up like Peter Looks amazing Looks she’s graced with Grace of angels Grips the handrails Like walking steep trails Along they sail Like a shit train even a good date has potential to derail…
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Sins of the Flesh
I think of my best clothes and they are on Inside my black jacket lining red as scarlet-snouted Anacreon Alacrity enhances your acceptance of invitation Your smile written citation I slink naked, clock my best clothes and they are off Upon the floor, finery’s trapdoor Stoking old loves angry spurned ghosts, host hating rewinding old…
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Caving
Hymns to Pan Hymns to lust Grasping sheets at satyr’s thrust Mad handed ecstasy of fumbling Dry Steppe, home to a horselord or haven to homeless Your love a great cave, soundless and immune to soundings, grave of groundlings Ground tending downwards, rifled rock like a golem’s throat The cave of your love is on…