This poem is another brain dump … I write for myself, but I know that there are several people who will relate to this piece. I always want to give a little intro to my pieces, but, this time, I think it speaks for itself.
Oooops, excuse me… your superficiality is showing!
Better close your lips! Shhhhhhhhhhhh!
I don’t need to be knowing the colour of your bitter soul
Start pulling your Freudian slip back down from off your hips,
Coz with everything you’re saying, you’re just exposing more and more of your ass…umptions.
Stop flapping, letting us see all your business, coz you’re not good with concealing
The wedgie caused by having your panties all in a bunch!
The problem is this – I already suspected your shallowness;
Your mistake was speaking, opening your mouth, and thus, effectively erasing all doubt.
But, before you mute, tell me … what exactly does an erotic poet look like?
You whisper behind hands that if my abs were flat and tight that I would be appealing;
That, based upon the type of words I’m spitting, my physique should resemble a Greek god –
Well, I’m sorry that my looks don’t rock your boat. Just know that every quote I drop
Is meant to lubricate your mental labia, to make you feel sexy… even, juicy….
So exterior appeal is not as important to me as it seems to be to you…
Beauty, to me, is an internal affair.
My words are meant to excite your soul, not just your body.
Don’t get me wrong! I do want to make your body hum too,
I want every word I speak to strum sensual rhythms across your sex –
Voicing incantations that put bewitching hex upon your mind and make … you… cum…
Making you dare to strip off sopping underwear for comfort’s sake.
But if, for fuck’s sake, you can’t get wet because you can’t set eyes upon a bulging set of pecs,
Then … that isn’t my problem … it’s yours! I don’t write for you, live for you or do
Three sets of sit-ups hoping you accept my pen, or my penis.
This is not a popularity contest! I’ve done too much growing,
Knowing that changing myself to please others just doesn’t fucking work.
But, know that you might miss out on a trip around the world my tongue can take you on,
As tales of lust are spun with skill, until your entire body hums with the attention
I give to your secret places, as I place my pinkness deep inside your wetness….
But – ooops! Excuse me, your superficiality is showing….
You will go to your grave never knowing the type of loving you could get from this poet
All because the packaging does not meet society’s ideal of beauty
Trust me … But tell me … Are you all you want to be, sexually?
Do you look at yourself and say Daaammmmmmn I’m fine?
Do you? Do you?
Coz, I do …