life is beautiful

Is it still a haiku if it rhymes?

who needs poetry
when all it takes is just three
little words from me


You give my soul a hard-on

you give my soul a hard-on,
you make my heart erect,
my being throb and pulsate,
my very core erupt.

you make my psyche tingle,
you make my mind inflate,
my life force squirt and dribble,
my spirit ejaculate.


All Sticky

when i kiss your lips,
i want to taste my cum.
when i lick your tits,
i want to taste your cunt.

when you fuck my face,
i want you to stink.
when i lick your arse,
i want you to reek.

when i taste your flesh,
i want it sweaty.
when i kiss your breasts,
i want them all sticky.


A Taste

we meet in secret, in a hotel room – you give me a peck on the cheek and tell me that as long as i do everything you say, we can meet again. if i hesitate, or fail in the slightest and you will leave and i will never see you again.

you have me undress and lay on the bed, already erect, as your eyes take in my cock, bouncing eagerly on my belly with anticipation – you step forward and blindfold me – i hear you moving and the sound of your clothes falling to the floor. i ask if you’re naked, and you tell me not to speak.

i feel you climbing onto the bed, and you tell me that i am not to touch you, that i am not to touch myself. i am not even allowed to move unless told to – you kneel over me, your legs straddling mine, looking down at me trembling with excitement, my member fit to burst.

you stroke my chest softly, with the tips of you fingers, feel my heart pounding rapidly, the way a wild beast might pound its cage in an effort to be free. you sweep your fingers down over my belly, stopping just short of my twitching shaft. you run both your hands down my sides and up over me, stopping even closer this time. you do this, again and again, getting nearer and nearer, until the lightest touch would have me overflow.

i can tell, by the way you are breathing more heavily and the light trembling of the bed, what you are doing to yourself. you remind me again, with the hint of a gasp in your voice, not to touch you and not to touch myself, knowing just how much i long to – through the mattress i feel your hips start to rock back and forth and hear your light, open-mouthed gasps reflect off the ceiling and know you have your head tilted back in ecstasy.

you lean forward, supporting yourself with your other hand on the headboard and plant the tiniest of kisses on my quivering lips. i can feel your hair brush against my skin and your breath, like sweet steam, on my cheek – your mouth hovers over mine as your orgasm erupts through you, spreading like molten, bubbling lava, to the very tips of your fingers and toes – your orgasmic moans are soft, breathy and almost whisper-like, but there is no mistaking the pleasure they portray, as you pant and pulsate over me, your body on fire with delight.

before you climb off me, you sweep a glistening fingertip over my lips, barely touching them but giving me a tantalising taste of heaven, as i lay there gasping with a mixture of unbearable frustration and momentous delight. you dress silently, still shaking with excitement, and exit the room without a sound, leaving me in the dark, glued to the spot with fear of losing you, my erection still raging like a hungry wolf.

it is only hours later when i hear an awkward cough that is not yours, that i dare take off the blindfold. only to see the ugly old, toothless maid, who has come to clean the room, standing at the end of the bed, mouth gaping and eyes bulging at the sight of my still stiff, still trembling body.


Hunger

i wanna eat you
in the crude sense
not the literal one
‘though
i do wanna lick you
all over your body
and taste your sweat
and
i wanna smell you
inhale your stink
sup from your cunt
but
i will eat you until you cry
with pleasure and i
am full


Please

drown in my pain.
let it fill you up,
breathe it in,
inhale it,
drink it,
shower in it.

let my pain
drench you
in pleasure,
feast on it,
drip to it.

come to my screams,
get high on my begging,
explode every time
you say no,
every time
you take more
of me.

bathe in my pain,
let it
cleanse you
and fulfill you,
crave it,
need it
take it all.

fuck yourself deep
with my agony,
caress your clit
with my fear.

see me finished
and broken
and know
you’ve only
just begun.

please.


Just while i finish…

i had to go to the doctor’s today – i hate it, the depression of the waiting room, the risk of catching a cold, all the posters reminding me of all the horrible diseases and afflictions, i could, and probably will end up getting. most of all, i hate the wait. i know they’re busy and the service is stretched, but to be surrounded by miserable looking fuckers, coughing and sneezing over me is just a shitty way to spend the best part of a morning – thank fuck i’ve got minecraft on my phone, at least.

eventually, i get to see my doctor. she is a hot young asian woman, and, thanks to the recent mild weather, is displaying a cleavage that i could happily spend six months in. this makes discussing personal matters rather awkward, and after several minutes watching her staring, uncomfortably, at her computer display, she turns to me and breaks the news. “i’m very sorry mr mew, but you are going to have to stop masturbating.” i’m flabbergasted.
“what?” i exclaim, “why?” my world collapsing around me, “forever?”
“no, not forever, mr mew,” she sighs, almost scowling, “just while i finish examining you.”

 

 


Lioness

She is like a starving lioness, craving the kill, desperate for the taste of blood, the sensation of tearing flesh and the sweet stench of terror from her prey. She needs to feed. She longs to devour and feast. She needs to eat. Her hunger so strong that it hurts, consuming her every waking moment and drenching her dreams. It’s the only thing she can think about. She simply has to feel her teeth sinking into soft, terrified flesh. It’s in her very nature, to choke and kill and devour. She has no choice in the matter. It is who she is and it is what makes her so beautiful.

The best thing about her is that she’s coming round later tonight for what she describes as a barbecue. I’m just a little puzzled, as I don’t have a yard, but I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about, and I can’t wait to find out.


He who laughs last

i was brought up in a small coastal town in kent and was a teenager during the seventies there. it was a very violent time and place, more violent even, than my time in the army. there wasn’t a single day when someone didn’t get beaten up. sometimes i got beat up and sometimes i beat someone up. sometimes both in one day. it was how things were: the hard guys got the girls, and the weedy ones didn’t. it was a culture driven by hormones, by violence and by pussy.

the other day i was down there, when a guy called clive approached me in a pub. he recognised me after nearly 40 years, and he wanted to apologise for having bullied me at school. i remembered instantly how he had once dragged me behind some shops and kicked me to the floor and carried on kicking until i vomited with pain. i remember the pleasure he got from it. i remember how he’d made my life hell for a whole summer.  he grew up with two drunken parents, and every day, at home, he witnessed and experienced violence. he saw his mum punched in the face. he saw his sisters stripped and beaten and raped, and he got beaten.

there was never any violence in my home. it was a peaceful place. once, my granddad slapped me across the face with a rolled up porn mag he had found, hidden, in my room. i was 5 inches taller than him at the time and 15. he was in his sixties. it stung for a few seconds and left a mark for a few minutes. it was nothing.

i got my own back on clive by pretending that i didn’t recall him. he’d spent serious chunks of his adult life regretting things he’d done as a child. all he wanted was a chance at redemption. it would have been so easy to forgive him but so much more rewarding to have him think that i didn’t even remember him.


i was born alone

there is no one
i will ever know
like i know me

i am alone

i touch others
and feel their touch
like a bubble

i will be alone

if i can’t love me
then how
can i love another

i will die alone

maybe then i will get
to know me
or not

as the case may be


For the rest of the day

You won’t believe what happened to me on the way to work

Go on?

I bent down to tie my laces, and a crazy woman attacks me!

No shit!

Yeah! She starts slapping my ass, and when i turn to confront her, she pushes me onto my knees and shoves my face between her legs! Then, when I turn to pick up my case, she tries to bum me!

Oh my god! What did you do?

I had a hard-on for the rest of the day.

happy-dance-gif


A million light years

i fuck you so hard that you have to grab hold of the furniture, just to stay upright, just to stay conscious. we fuck so hard that the whole room rattles with our raw lust. glass, crockery and paper fly. cupboards burst open, their contents dashing themselves recklessly on the floor in an uncontrolled carnal symphony. shelves collapse. glasses explode. the window shatters. candles inexplicably ignite themselves. the light bulb above our head glows fiercely, before exploding and showering us with tiny shards, and as we come, cars crash outside. alarms go off. hydrants erupt. several people nearby have heart attacks. power stations burst into flames. tsunamis and earthquakes wipe out millions. new craters appear on the moon. black holes, swallow solar systems, and stars are born in a distant gas cloud a million light years away.


The pigs are coming

So, the rooms we live in are provided by the charity we work for, the rent is very reasonable. they do keep nagging us though. about smoking pot in them. “please smoke your joints outside?” they keep asking, “that’s our property and we are legally liable”. of course, they have a good point, and of course, we ignore them and keep puffing away like octogenarian grannies on a the 25th mile of a marathon. thing is, the job is stressful, all that bum-wiping, and lifting, and bed-sores, and feeding, and death, and boredom and stair climbing, and caring. you need an outlet and weed was ours. well, that and e, and acid, and ska, and football hooliganism, and speed and uk surf: a genre of music that has sadly not survived.
eventually the bosses do what they got to and call the fuzz. i’m watching the box in the communal area and supping on a pint of shepherd neame, when i see four burly looking blokes and a german sheppard stop outside my room. i know instantly what has happened, and rather than panic, i get up and walk calmly into my fate of being a homeless and jobless criminal. i even manage a smile.
i lead them into my room and just point to the weed on the table next to the bong. they say “all very well and good sir,” all of them staring at my sorry little bag of grass, “but we will need you to strip.” so, i go through the humiliation of a strip-search (wishing that there had been at least one wpc there, to see my dong), and then they let the dog have a good sniff around. she is well trained and loves me, or at least how i smell. there is no other puff in my room and the only point that grabs her attention is my laundry basket. there are socks in there that, if you threw them at the wall, would stick to it, and the cops ask if i have anything in there.
“not that i know of.” i lie, knowing that the cop will have to rummage, very thoroughly through them all.
As they take me to the cop shop i think of doug.
doug and i have rooms next to each other, we smoke a lot of weed together. we score from the same geezer, every thursday, on payday. just like we did today. only difference between us is that i cycle and he walks or grabs a bus. i always get home quicker. he was just arriving, as i was leaving, which means… he’s like half an hour away. he ain’t back yet. there may well be a chance for him to avoid getting busted, if only i can get hold of him before he gets home.
the cops aren’t rough with me or anything, after all, they have what they want, and we almost have a laugh together. all the time i’m thinking of doug. “am i allowed a phone call?” i ask.
“sure.” they smile, “who do you want to call?” i tell them it’s my mate doug. “come with us.” they beckon, and i follow, assuming they are taking me to a telephone. all i wanna say to him is
‘get out of the fucking house man! the pigs are coming!’ they lead me into a room where i see doug, sat, being interviewed by two other cops.
“here is is”, says one cop, “what do you want to say to him?”
“get out of the fucking house man!” i say, “the pigs are coming!”


Oh God

oh god!
how i love your eyes,
and your tits,
and your thighs.

oh god!
how i love your toes,
and your butt,
and your nose,

and god!
how i love your armpits
as much
as i love your tits.

oh god!
how i love your ass,
like a cow
loves the grass.

but god!
how i love your tits,
but i
already said this.


Amazing

There are just some people, who, without really possessing any amazing qualities, are nevertheless, amazing. Usually this is because they think they are, when they are not. Perhaps this immense sense of self denial, is what actually makes them amazing.
I just had a brief conversation with a woman I met coming back from the store, who was such a creature. We bumped into each other because I was not really looking where I was going, my mind on other things, and this resulted in the very English tradition of us both apologising repeatedly to each other. Why was she amazing? Because despite being older even than I am and having let her body go, to chips and KFC many decades ago, and looking like a poorly strung up sausage, she was dressed as though she were Beyonce. Fish-nets, mini-skirt and so much cleavage on display, that if i were to attempt to bare that much flesh, I would have to strip naked, and probably twice.
For the moment of conversation we shared, I got the impression that she was a thoroughly nice old girl. Not bright, but friendly and open and nice, and as she waddled off in front of me, shovelling chips into her mouth, between gulps of White Ass Cider, I wondered and marvelled at human nature and our ability to delude ourselves.
Then I thought about myself: 50, still with a mohawk and sporting bright camo-pants and wondered how ridiculous I must look. I was too scared to actually answer the question but then two 20 something hotties walked past me and giggled. So I got my answer anyway.
I arrived home with the feeling that we can all be amazing, if we are only brave and stupid enough to try.


Reward and punishment

i long for your rewards,
i fear your punishment.
your control is total
and obedience guaranteed.
but what will you ask?
how much of me
will you demand?
will you push me to my limits?
will you test your own?
i do not know.
how dark is your imagination?
or how far you will go?
i just know,
i want you to take me there.


All I have to do

first you have me sharpen the knife, in front of you, on the whet stone. you have me get it so sharp that it could cut a human soul in two. there is something greedy in your eyes as you watch, something animal and deep and dark, something beautifully frightening. you don’t have to ask, i know to hand it to you. i try not to tremble. you hold it so that the tip barely touches my cock. i feel just the tiniest prick against my yielding flesh. all i have to do, you tell me with a smile that is as evil as it is sweet, is not get an erection. stay flaccid and i am safe, my cock is safe. i know this to be true. i can see in your powerful, lust filled, beautiful eyes that you are not going to move the blade. all i have to do is not get a hard-on.
you know what you are doing to me as, with your other hand, and insanely slowly, you start unbuttoning your top. you look right at me and into me as my already watering eyes start to take in the sight of your cleavage and the way your nipples start to poke through the soft cotton. even through the length of the cold sharp steel, you can feel me growing. longer and thicker, pressing against it, my pulse quickening. your top unbuttoned, all you have to do is slide it open, with a single finger to expose your glorious breasts. all i have to do, is not get an erection.


Worthy

That you would make me watch
as you pleasured yourself,
knowing that I could not,
is as beautiful
as it is cruel.
That you would enjoy
it more,
because of this,
is as mean
as it is sweet.
Making me turn my back,
so I can only hear
you come,
is a godly
as it is evil.
Why is it,
that God and Satan
are always portrayed
as two separate beings,
When combined,
as one,
they would be worthy
of the worship they crave?


A great wave

the last few weeks and days of my life have transformed me, like very few periods in my life ever have. maybe when my son died, or maybe when he was born, but little else in my life has caused me to define and redefine myself as much as the last few days and weeks have. i have lost friends and gained friends. i have had a punch up on the street with one of my best mates, and i have not had a punch up in decades. i have learned a lot about myself and a lot of it i wish i hadn’t. i have had to look at myself hard and admit things i don’t like. i am shallow and fickle and very selfish. i am proud and arrogant and stupid. i have had to look at myself very hard, in a way that made me realise that i am deep and serious and not what i just said. i am as stupid as i am clever. i am a walking contradiction. i can feel real and deep hurt, but i have a capacity to hurt others that exceeds that, and i do not like that about me. i’ve made new friends but lost old ones.  i have had to redefine some friendships and redefine how i see myself. i have reconnected with some and disconnected with others. i have seen people change and i have changed. ‘life is like a great wave,’ a one legged surfer’s ex once said to me, ‘try to control the wave and it will crush you, all you can do is read it and ride it’. i have grown and i have shrunk, and growing is the more painful and difficult. i have lost and i have found, and sadly i have learned more from what i have lost, although i am learning right now that if my neighbour does not turn his music down, i am going to find my cricket bat and he is going to lose some teeth.


A little secret

Shhh, and I’ll let you in on a little secret.

I have very dark eyes, they are almost black, and I don’t need sunglasses. I do wear them though, in the summer, but only so that I can look at women’s tits without them realizing.

I am worried however that the slobbering might give the game away.


The Ice Queen

The archaeologists were astounded when they discovered the body of a man frozen deep within the glacier. It wasn’t so much the discovery of human remains, buried timelessly in the unforgiving ice that amazed them, there had been dozens of such finds, but the fact that he had been found naked and erect and smiling. If only they had known the legend of the Ice Queen.
Her heart had been frozen, eons ago, through the betrayal and cruelty of men, and she had since become a thing of majestic, yet tragic, beauty. As strong and unyielding as ice itself, cold, magnificently rare and as precious as she was dangerous.
She could, with a single gentle caress of her fingers, turn any man to ice within a few excruciating seconds. All who had heard of her knew this and feared her. So it was with no small surprise that she watched him strip and approach her, his slender frame shivering with the cold. She knew that it took guts to stand that close to her: within touching distance. To offer himself naked and tumescent was even more remarkable. He must realise, she understood, that she could destroy him with a single gentle stroke of her hand against his trembling flesh. He stared greedily at her polar beauty, knowing full well the price he was about to pay but so powerfully was he drawn to her, that his life seemed a tiny cost. A life without ever having gazed on such outstanding beauty would have been a pointless one he figured, as he gingerly took a step closer.
The Ice Queen slid her fingers slowly down and then around him, the glimmer of  smile playing on her lips as she stared deep into his eyes and watched as her glacial power surged, needle like, through his limbs, his veins crystallising.
He made no attempt to escape as the heat of his passion clashed with her arctic touch, deep inside him, making his mind swim and his body shudder as pain and pleasure beyond mortal imagination collided, causing his soul to erupt before her
She watched, intoxicated, as the ice reached his heart and she didn’t let go of him before the light behind his eyes had slowly flickered and gone out.
for the 1st time in 10,000 years, she felt a little warmth, deep within herself and a tiny bead of moisture melted and trickled slowly and enticingly down the inside of her thigh.

I want to fuck you into a coma

i want to write poetry for you
i want to come in my own mouth and for you to watch
i want to cook for you
i want  massage your feet
i want to hold your hand
and make you tea
i want to feel my cock between your breasts and
i want to make you laugh and bring you breakfast in bed
i want to hear you giggle
i want to kiss the back of your neck, every time i see it
i want to tell you every time i get a hard on
i want to take a big magic marker and write filthy words all over your body and then
i want to take ‘tasteful’ black and white photographs of you and masturbate over them
i want you to strap on a vibrating dildo and fuck me in the ass with it
i want to ram my cock down your throat until you gag
i want to make the slowest love ever to you that anyone has ever made
and  yes
most of all
i want to make you come
come so fucking hard that you can’t help but bite me
come so hard you forget your own name
i want to  fuck you into a coma


TV

share a winter’s day with me
shiver and chatter
watch frost and hail
share blankets and kisses
and fuel bills
have sex in front of the tv


Six score hours

In six score hours
we will finally kiss
for the very,
very first time.
Our mouths,
and flesh
will eventually meet,
although our hearts
entwined long since,

with magical words
that flew through space;
love at the speed
of light.
My soul gets erect
every time
that i think
we will kiss,
in six score hours