REFRAIN:  WITH YOUR DICK BETWEEN MY LEGS

Karyna McGlynn

With your dick beween my legs,
you ask: what up?:

you ask me a pointed question
but it’s too hard to answer.

you don’t breathe.
You’re like this stiff I saw at a funeral once
(he had on orange eye shadow and I went,
like, totally necro for about three seconds).

you feel lucky, but, no; it’s more than that.
You are a commuter with the right of way;
your finger flicks through morning radio
as you suck the whip off a giant mocha.

you’ve got a big head.
You flare your nostrils and smile fatly.

you secretly hum the theme from Shaft.

a vein in your forehead pops and the whole room
smells like canaries as the aneurism comes
all over your face.

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Ms. McGlynn’s website  & on YouTube.  And you really should check her out because she’s quite beautiful.

Feminine Side

by Shane Allison

I need a dress.
Something silky & soft
against my hairy legs.

I want to raid my mama’s
closet of Gucci purses
while she’s away in the mall

browsing through Sunday dresses,
sifting through skirts & sweaters,
eating egg rolls & Styrofoam plates

of fried rice. I want shoes that strap over
the ankle, lipstick to shade the mouth
that blow-dries manicured nails.

I want something sequined
& over the shoulder,
Something with the color blue in it.

I need perfume tonight.
Colors & dyes at the nape of my neck
to make the men go wild.

No kissing you’ll smear my lipstick,
make my mascara run.
I’ve got black beneath this dress.

A dick easy enough to tuck between my thighs,
There’s 4 hundred years of oppression under here.
Stereotypes in wispy eyelashes.

Sticks & stones in the hymn
Of mama’s pretty red dress.
Men want to know my beauty queen secrets

As they clinch a bitch in their fist in claustrophobic
alleyways. They long for breasts, tissues to stuff
in borrowed beige bras from wives

& girlfriends who work late at the office
in the only shoes that will go
with that mini-skirt.

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More, more & more from Shane Allison

Avoid Cliches like the Plague or
How to Drive Your English Teacher Batshit
Alice N. Persons

Don’t Be a Stranger
Use a lot of trite-and-true expressions.
If it sounds vaguely familiar, throw it in.
Its alright, you’re teacher can handle it –
she may have to lay down
or have a cold beer
after reading a stack of papers —
bad writing has that affect on her —
but she can deal.
Thats what they pay her the big bucks for.
Your probably going to pass this class
even though writting is not your favorit thing.

O to be nineteen years old,
master of video game, iPod,
a tiny, complicated cell phone,
all things electric —
but mostly a stranger to those low-tech
blocks of paper
called books
and not to recognize
or have any interest in purging
the many clichés
sprinkled threwout your paper.
like flies in the gravy.
That was a simile, but don’t worry.
it won’t be on the quiz

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Oh how I love this poem … almost perfectly.  Ms. Persons’ lament is mine … almost totally. 

Except I do have a cell phone, an iPod, even video games.  And while it’s clear as mud that grammar skills have, indeed, taken a dive, I still read and read and read those blocks of paper like there was no tomorrow.  And use clichés only ocasionly.

That was a simile, a cliche and a misspelling all in one.  But don’t worry.  It won’t be on the quiz. 😉

Alice N. Persons at Wikipedia.  And she’s very pretty.

The Mistress Poem

Chi Chi Valenti

What is your interest in female domination?
A leather-clad goddess whom I might worship and serve, ma’am.
Full leather is available, if certain terms are understood in advance
Yes mistress
You are not permitted to touch the mistress above the knee
Yes, mistress
The bare foot may or may not be offered
Yes mistress
The mistress does not disrobe at any time in the session
Of course, mistress
The mistress will never touch you there
Of course not, mistress
A tribute must be offered from a suitable kneeling position
Yes mistress
You will surrender all individual will from the time the session begins
Oh yes mistress
You will be branded irrevocably with her will and possibly marked for life
Yes mistress
You will spend hours and weekends desparate in Jersey shopping malls, dreaming of her graceful booted foot while you try to ignore your wife’s pastel sneakers
You honor me, mistress
You will search for her in Meat Market sex clubs, taunted by her cruel sorority sisters
Yes, mistress
You will appear early for your appointment and she will make you wait in her dressing room, listening to unspeakable cries and jealous of the slave "Can he take more than I?"
Oh, thank you mistress
You will phone her for reassurance, starved for her voice and she will be colder than January on East 23rd Street
Oh, yes, mistress
You will phone her again, desparate and broken, trembling long-distance and she won’t even take your call
Oh, yes mistress
Then you’ll phone someone else, somewhere else, and even show up but you’ll leave in ten minutes after paying for the hour cause the boots weren’t right and the room wasn’t right and her junkie perfume just wasn’t in there, not that night, anyway
Oh, yes, mistress
Then back in her good graces you’ll rob your own children to take her shopping at Joseph’s and Manic Panic
Oh yes mistress
And she’ll make you buy an expensive gift for your wife, fifty dollar Chanel soaps, three of them, as you gulp imagining presenting such extravagance to the Missus
Oh thank you, mistress
Then every time you see a Chanel ad you’ll begin to tremble again, a slave’s palsy, remembering her cruel laughter and how the sissy counter clerk seemed to be laughing with her too
Oh yes, mistress
Your mind so far gone at this point that you imagine him her houseboy and wonder if she’d like you more in drag
Do you think she would, mistress?
Your mind so far gone at this point that you fantasize cutting off your dick and having lesbian sex with her
If that is her wish, mistress
Your mind so far gone at this point that you who used to vomit at two queers holding hands are now getting buggered quite regularly
Oh yes, mistress
Your mind once so sure of priorities and deep, personal politics, now scheming only for money to see her more often
Your mind that once spoke fluent French and remembered stock prices
Your mind that breathlessly pushes the eighth floor button
Your mind that once longed to free Nelson Mandella
Now running to the slave boat, as eager for the leg-irons as for the mulatto mistress who wields them
Your mind that she has exquisitely altered
Your mind a ruined city, the streets overrun with wolves and she it’s mad emperor
Your mind that’s her chattel now
Enslaved at last, enslaved at last
Thank god almighty
Enslaved at last

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A bio of Ms Valenti can be found HERE.

pssst.  secret code:  2TQJQCFB6MHR

among morning glories

the drip

drip

of lingerie

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Yes, it’s a non-traditional format (you can read about contemporary Haiku HERE).

But ….

Can’t you just smell the crisp-clean scent of the wet satin fused with the sweet perfume of blossoming morning glories? 

Thanks to HDB, who sent me ‘Haiku: Poetry Ancient & Modern,’ wherein I found this lovely Haiku by Alexis Rotella.  Ms. Rotella is an award-winning poet, with over 40 published books of poetry.  You can visit her website HERE and listen to her lovely Valentine’s Haiga HERE.

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Looking for Lingerie Phone Sex?  Meet my friends: CLICK HERE

And don’t you forget for a minute that I have a fondness for Girly Men & Boy Toys.  And one of us WILL be wearing lingerie.  You can count on it.