Poerotics: rolling deep.

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She promised to visit sometime soon

Crawling aisles shopping late-night foods

Neither endless reels of mush cartoons

Nor arguments, hardly help sex-up moods

Not seen her since – by sleight nor force

What a sweet, surprise present she would be

Frustration builds without remorse

Oh!  To be bareback riding victory

 

Morning blizzards carpet crystals

Weighted branches cover sighted surrounds

Deftly arranging gated portals

Freshly laid snow crisply deep, on ground

He immediately crept back to bed

No-way would he dare venture out

Relaxed his body – spreadeagled and spread

Cursed to-day, thinking no-one’s about

 

Lazily dozing, smug in luxuriant heat

Callously fantasizing wicked plans

Packing sweet reggae music – loads to eat

Locked with an incredibly beautiful swan

He’d love to: in such a roodbwoy way

Draw wood – from behind bending her over

Delve deep hungrily voracious pussy play

Spout-off, shooting seed-splash showers

 

Out the blue his doorbell rang

Intercom clicked: he asked without care

“Who a’ knock?”  In curdling slang

“Me, Lucretia!”  Chirps a wanton mare

Rubbing his hands, fizzing excited glee

Pressed the lock so she could come up

Softly played music help make things ready

Now’s the time to full-up her furry cup.

 

 

Poerotics: windows to Sheol

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He ambled quietly creaking well-worn stairs, swaggering swell-headed, obviously full of himself; elegantly coiffured, sporting streaky flecked hair – stylishly flickering on tediously prepared shelf.  She waited patiently upstairs – biding her time – listening attentively for approaching sound; clinking – rustled keys – attuned her mind, sexual feelings causing emotion to drown, in flurries of lurid flashbacks; increased throbbing moistened sensitivities lubricating her bulbous, dripping fur-track; triggering sluiced – naturally flooded – proclivities.

She startled, at a swiftly turned key in well-oiled lock; head obediently bowed – not daring to look – his burning eyes staring intently, commanding submission.  her inner thighs – soaking wet – combined body fluids and sweat.  He chortled, espied her loosely discarded frock, body hunched and cowed – how she visibly shook – showing willing compulsion to the liberties he took; snagged in his promiscuous net, addicted to excitable humiliation she wont forget.  nervous trembling hands sought naked flies, fumbling feverishly for opened incision.  she audibly swooned, grasping his bulging hot-rod, with a contented sigh – all in one uninterrupted swoop – ears peaked – listening for customary instruction

” Suck mon Cherie,” he crooned, as he wield his rampant, steeled prod; instantly connecting their physically adjoined loop, sexually compromised in position.”Yes, baby suck!” he repeated – twice – coaxing whispered, rasped tones.  She responded with pluck – excited in vice – slavering like dog to a bone.  Cloistered fear leaked, dribbling spittle across greedy rouge-infested lips, stroking her human recorder; embroidered spare streaks, dripping slimy dross, hungrily flossed seedy licks, slowly oozing ingested saliva.  Her cunning hands surreptitiously snake round, violently hauling his rigidly taut backside; pulsing glands gyrate, avariciously bound, instantly coercing repetitive slides, on a spit encrusted track, increasing momentum on horizontal trajectory; allowing absolutely no slack, appeasing a bubbling, boiling spectrum of sexual intensity.

She pulled hard, a satisfied thud – at the back of her throat – elucidated squeals, countered by his soothing groans.  He relinquished his guard – senses began to float – thrusting wildly with reckless premeditated zeal, ignoring the constant ringing of mobile phones.  Goaded deliciously by encouraging moans, he gripped the back of her head – began to shout – boasting facetiously disparaging words, thrusting and stabbing her warm, slippery mouth.  She felt reaction between her sticky, twitching thighs; stifled slurps – unable to shout – increased her velocity with muffled cries.  Her head was a blur of mechanised precision, excitement co-rehearsed – with movement – mushroomed her thoughts to fever pitch.  he consented, deferred indecision allowed visibly open contentment, with terse fulfilment echoing satisfaction; slyly consumed by invisible hatred bought from a debilitated crack-bitch.  He looked at her, harbouring mixtures of mocking pity and morbid disgust; a corralled creature, trapped in seething iniquity, whose compliant behaviour is an undeniable must.

Cataclysmic explosions cede eye-bulging contortion, unleashing simultaneous sensations both in mouth, and mind; causing her to experience a near state of unconscious confusion.  Shockwaves  of seismic proportion increased advantageous fluctuations, making her: gasp, gulp, swallow and almost pass-out, as her body began to unwind.  sensing his prey, her involuntary loss of physical control, he swiftly turned her – face down – to the spotlessly cleaned floor; relishing a completed foray, he instinctively became boss – assumed his tyrannical role – quickly urinating, willing her to drown, sauntering – when done – to the exit door.  Her subconscious mind registered cackling laughter, translating it into a frightening lion’s roar.

he was gone – and she woke up, not knowing after how long.  Now she could focus on her insanely decrepit life; showered and changed without so much as even token fuss, she disinfected and cleaned – reflecting on daily strife.  he left her a humongously-sized henry, as conciliatory gratuity payment; good enough to console her for his ridiculous impropriety, knowing she was obliged to regard it as heaven sent.  She almost tripped over the table leg, in her rush to get to the drawer; spilling a complete jar of nutmeg, in hurried attempts to retrieve her beloved, once more.  Then, finally, she had it in her grasp, proceeding to lick and kiss, taking time to roll him over heaving tits; her beautiful, irreplaceable pipe to whom she was loyal slave, and most dutiful wife – to the last.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Future Ghosts: of Christmas floss

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His Majesty remind Us

Future, past and present

Reside here and now

Einstein’s fourth dimension

Is more than trampled dust

Please, don’t ask me how

 

Maybe: God’s Son – Word – is indeed immortal

Poet – tongue in cheek – reveals Time’s infinite portal

 

Empire did many obscene things

Mixed heritage stole identities

Obviously, you know the jewels we bring

Anchored with our secret sycophantasies

We are part of common populous

Like us, or not be impartial

Closet apartheid – so incongruous

Seeps through the box, hypercritical

 

Technology rules completed roost

Alcohol makes dizzy heads spin

Complicated drugs confirm psychic boost

Christmas merry-go-round, full swing

Slaughtered millions of turkeys

Perforated innocently honed eardrums

T.V.’s metaphoric’ly placed monkeys

Remind Civil Rights leaders, who won

 

Fair do’s: Ebenezer had a point

Indulgent excess is never good

Mammoth feasts boast well-roast joint

End result: lots of wasted food

Whores pitch trade, promoting durex

Twenty-four-seven filth tires limbs

Families celebrate – proceeds of sex

Sup fizzing glasses’ overflowing rims

 

Nice to know right and wrong Jesus

Physical Christ writhes on his cross

Erected strategically to deceive us

Historic Christ is the actual boss

Children aren’t fooled; Santa is a thief

Burgles houses via chimneys

Filled untold numbers of gossamer sheathes

Sired many state-grown pickn’eys

 

Monarch screens her reflective speech

serenely predicts our collective futures

Always forgets money doesn’t reach

Poverty’s unfortunate creatures

Sandringham church is full of joy

‘Her’ bells peal without regret

George splashes his fountain of toys

Jammy little blighter – no disrespect

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surveying The Battle field:

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Yeah!  You see it now?  John’s black horse has encircled Syria; what a weeping and wailing round-a-bout Damascus?  Prophecy say: battle will commence in that particular area, while the beast’s children systematically rise against Us.  Of course, it has already started, we all saw situations in the now increase numbers of those late, and departed.  The seeds they indiscriminately sow, will grow heart-rending thorns – in local vicinities; reaping untold numerical iniquities.  This Armageddon is at the behest of our Father-Creator.  Those evil men seeking conquest are nothing but, the tool of The Destroyer.

 

You are excused if you thought this Armageddon was going to be easy.  Evil has suffused both sides of this ridiculous carry-on; lurking left, and right getting busy killing innocents and children, wreaking unholy confusion.  Planet earth has become JAH-JAH threshing floor, the wheat and tares grew together; trodding the winepress, of the fierceness of his wrath and fury – the wicked will be no more.  Beware the scheming intruder, with intentions to convey you to death’s door.  Secure your righteous soul from destruction, The Beast’s children are filthy, rotten to the core, on the inside; delightfully scented, alluring to sin and deviation on the outside.  The Pearl travelled centuries, surfaced and gave witness; Beast induced imponderable eccentricities, reduced the world to spiritual sickness.  Remember: the world belongs to Satan but, the Earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof.

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