sex

Sex, Love and Money

Folder: 
Just a thought!

The best five bucks I ever spent was

on a tasty piece of chicken down in China Town

It was Love at first bite, and finger lickin good'

The taste of honey dripped from my lips and

My tongue just wanted more...

Rated right up there with sex I tell ya!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Sex, Love, and Money"

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Passion Princess

Folder: 
Just a thought!

Your propensity perplexes me, with your plethora of pent up passion,

Passionately professing prowess in persuading perseptive pawns.

Your persuasive powers presede you, in a pelvic picture plot,

Producing pretty pear shaped particulars, pre-emptive strike at dawn.

Potential parties plead to partake of predominate, pleasing portains,

Poised,  passing judgement, pleasure pending, you pick your poison'


Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Passion Princess"

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If You Live Alone

Folder: 
Mate Love

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If You Live Alone

*

user img

If you live alone No one
.. can grab the remote
OR
.. play cacophony which hurts your ears
.. put you on the phone when you don't want to talk
.. cook foods whose smell makes you sick
.. fracture the silence in other ways
.. be upset if you tune out in meditation
.. wake you out of a beautiful dream, for morning sex
.. move or throw away your things
.. spend your money
.. mind if you get up in the middle of the night to work
.. expect you to do more than 50% of the cleaning, cooking, laundry
.. establish your priorities
.. object if you talk to old friends of both genders
.. decimate your freedom
and
when attacked by flatulence you need not leave the room.

Nevertheless many of us nonyogis prefer the path of
   mutual love.

 

  -saiom shriver-

www.visualphotos.com

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Prisoner of Lore

Foretold once was a place begotten in
the Legendary War of Mankinde.....
faire in wealth and luxourie but void
of love and charitee..
But blind are not who root in povertee
fancy by foe, for foe forgot 
once a war
raged on in these lands 
but now led to become who 
once was won by ways of war
and the villainee they abhorr. 
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The Apothecary

Located  deep within the bounteous and 
fruitful Ambrosia of my medullas' oblongata,
resides my naked imagination 
  -Feast you on my Dreams 
and tighten your meaty fist
around your delicate golden spoon.
 -Inflame you on my embers
your passion 
purged like the immortal icor
now webbing through your dry veins..
Till the sapless shroud collapses
and scatters into the dry desert sand.

a blind and thoughtless tongue
forages recklessly across
your chin..
the last drop
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Pirate Curse

 

Nair rest the mind eye: trappings 
ensnarement in blindnesse die 
a dialogue here within
read beyond

 Oh when the winds change 
direction no one'evr  knows
the future of the story to unfold
insidious wickednesse or mutiny
n'er retreat but eye for eye

the humble boots man tread 
on the land once fed by the 
treasure gold and blood of red
fortune to be made or lost never
to return

Aye the cheats to fire and burn 
matt'r nought he be on land or sea
may be strick'n wrought with 
treacherie 

Oh damnedest soul of griefe and 
tainted swive 
Beshackle to thee Miss Fortune 
as ye bride.
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Untitled

Somewhere between light and dark 
falls the shadow ever lurking
twixt the fairness due impart
born of jealous sultry night
stunning shudders creep in full
to stop the pitch of blackness
dripping from the moon.
 Dawns glorious dagger appears
to slay once more the perils 
spilling the bloody death of night
o'er hill and dale alike 
heralding daybreak 
the survivor by 
way of hue lit dews
bejeweled upon her crown.
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The Plight of Virtue by Temptation (a dialogue)

Reighns supreme in the surreal 
night dreams inside , running wild fearing 
no living thing. Once again, into the 
wildernesse stark clad with 
ravenous eyes and wreckless.

 It is then that she appeared to him.

Alone in the living forest black 
night shade and wonderment.
Bewilderment rushe forthe o'r 
his braine and gaze her visage in 
amazement.

A slight figure, had she...with a 
graceful feminine beauty delicate 
and wholly woman, with a feline glow
about the eyes. whilst ample bosom 
heaved forth with each passing breathe
between the fullness of her lips
as if to hide the sharpnesse of her teeth.
as she spake:

I know all that you are, were and ever will be....
A courtier and merchant marine from  Great City
, now on dispatch by the 
Royal Command 
Loyal and honest and respected by man....said she 

And woman alike, m' lady.....said he 
Your fairest enchauntresse, who live in the tree
like a siren, perhaps but more serpentine...
why ...pray tell bespeake you of me
     ( but interrupted by she)

Speak not-now, my good man,
Ventured Far, you have into
this treacherous land ...Too soon
you will be my Lover and 
impregnate me so once more 
life flows mortal in my grey veins.

Slay thee, rotten harlot of these woods ...said he
with conviction
Nought with your tempts to sully 
and corrupt my intention
Not your breast or your tongue to swive
sacred Is, as my Flesh alive

Then upon YOUR flesh I will dine! ....said she
lunging forthe
with lionesse force in strike

and devoured this man 
with effortlesse strenghte and 
swallowed his bones 
  -Oh what creatures exist
that stand in our path 
on all walks of life 
they come unexpected 
but for the sake of your seed
march forthe with protection.
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Welcome To The Coffee Shop

Folder: 
My Favorites

 

Welcome To The Coffee Shop ©

 

(Kyla G. Bingham, Oct-Nov 2014)

 

Welcome to the coffee shop. I’m your barista; please allow me to tell you about the menu.

 

Our house blend is an acquired fondness—quite bold and assertive—so if your tastes are delicate, I hope it doesn’t offend you.

 

Give it a chance to play on your tongue, refine your palate; don’t just hastily spit it out.

 

If you take a moment to savor its flavor and let it give you a jolt, it might just save you a carafe of complications and a decanter full of doubt.

 

Don’t turn away—this is no time for feigning ambivalence, rolling your eyes, being complacent.

 

If you’ll swallow the potion I’m offering, you’ll avoid a lifetime of serious debasement.

 

So please feel free to cozy up to the bar or find yourself a seat.

 

Or since we’ll be here for a bit perhaps you’ll prefer to warm yourself by the fire…go ahead and make yourself at home—kick off your shoes and prop up your feet.

 

Now that you’re settled, as I said this’ll take a minute because some things are percolating, some heavy truths are boiling over, ready to be spoken.

 

Like the fact that you keep listening to the seductive hiss and rattle of tantalizing words that quickly become promises broken.

 

Why? Why did you think that just because his kettle whistled for you that he was ready to fill your heart to overflowing like the fruition of your every dream?

 

Turns out he was just passing air through his lips so now you’re pissed and blowing steam.                 

 

Did you somehow think that giving everyone a dollop of your cream would make you more mature?

 

I’m sorry, love, but that reverie is curdled, and you are your own worst saboteur.

 

You fell for a sultry French kiss and a full body press.

 

And now like the potent, dark liquid that flows through a French press, your dignity is slowly drip, drip, dripping and pooling on the floor with your eagerly and easily discarded dress.

 

You give it up so easily so what do you expect?

 

Offering it all and passing out samples of your “cup of Joe” to every John so now all you have is a double shot of misery and a venti sized serving of disrespect.

 

Your java is interchangeable; they don’t care if you’re caramel, mocha, espresso or chai.

 

They just want the flavor of the day—don’t forget to add the whipped cream and chocolate syrup—drink you down and then a fast goodbye.

 

Wipe his mouth, then wad you up and discard you with the trash.

 

Then get back in line for another mouthful of low self-esteem and decisions that are rash.

 

What’s that in the bakery display case? Yeah, go head and wrap up a sticky bun and a scone.

 

Cuz as long as he feigns attention, nibbling on your confections and affections, you just won’t leave it alone.

 

By the way, this ain’t the only location he frequents—seems every corner has a franchise.

 

Here he’s a banker, there he’s a baller—he’s a sultan of subterfuge and a doyen of disguise.

 

And you keep falling for the ruse not realizing that doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome is the textbook definition of insanity.

 

Maybe you’re perfectly matched because you’re the queen of SSDD which leads to pregnancy and STD and the loss of your very humanity.

 

You need to snap out of it, change your M.O., and have a little bit of pride.

 

Because at the rate girls like you are going, it’s becoming self-inflicted “gendercide.

 

Now look at you all upset, froth just foaming from your lips.

 

Rabid because you should have made him buy the mug instead of handing out all those free testers and sips.

 

Did you even think to use a coaster? No, you didn’t. I see the evidence of your negligence in the form of rings of condensation.

 

You just charge through the chute like a mare to be mounted and totally skip the need for mental sublimation.

 

You don’t even bother with cognitive stimulation.

 

Don’t know the intense pleasure of a demitasse of tea with a side of penetrating conversation.

 

Perhaps you should consider falling in love between your ears instead of lust below your waist.

 

Perchance then you won’t have so many experiences you wish could be erased.

 

Your baseless carnality is empty…a study in ineffectuality.

 

There’s so much deeper and more lasting fulfillment in being an out and proud proponent of sapiosexuality.       

 

But you refuse to think first, you’re stuck in a loop of reckless action then regret that can at best be called illogical.

 

Actually, it’s beyond that; it’s a disease, and your behavior is pathological.

 

Once the deed is done, you can’t undo it no matter how you beg, steal or borrow.

 

It’s the unchangeable unilateral flow of time: it’s impossible to rewind to yesterday, and there be no such thing as tomorrow.

 

So there you have it, the straight, unsweetened brew, and though it was bitter and acidic, I hope you listened up and banked it.

 

Because there are no refunds on a beverage once you already drank it.

 

But sadly most ignore the expert suggestions of their well-meaning barista; the say she’s abrasive and curt.

 

They disregard that she’s studied well the proffered libations and human inclinations to opt for the cloyingly sweet—and so she helplessly watches as they reap the ensuing world of hurt.

 

Now you’re shattered on the ground, tears spilling and spreading all around like the fluid caffeine from a broken coffee cup.

 

No, you can’t change your mind and listen now.  Sorry the bell has already rung. Next in line, and as for you, “order up”.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is the first totally new poem I've written in about a year. I hope you enoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Cool

 

-Kyla

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