The Siren’s Call
/Erotica, R-18+
Heed this warning one and all,
temptations abound that you may befall.
A bounty of women just a click away,
ready and willing, no need to pay.
Every position, perversion, and pleasure,
every fantasy possible, fulfilled forever.
All you need do is open your phone,
press a few buttons, then get yourself alone.
What we have here are the sirens of old,
pulling men off course and taking their gold.
With their songs and bodies they do tempt
and not even the most pious can keep themselves exempt.
The Sirens would pose, prance, and start to sing,
they would promise to do literally everything.
Whispering deeds that could rouse the dead,
forcing all men to stop thinking with their head.
Now you may say none of this really matters,
but if left unchecked your life will end in tatters.
What happens when we watch people fucking like rabbits?
what does that do to our real nocturnal habits?
How can a real women possibly hope to match
the perfect bodies, boobs, or snatch?
Of those sirens that you can easily summon,
exactly what you want at the click of a button.
Reality is distorted by such perfection,
it takes away the chance at real connection.
If you’re hoping your lady will act like a siren,
you’ll miss all the sexiness that’s worth admirin’.
It’s not her job to put on a show,
yet here she is, and she’s ready to go.
But now you can’t even get it up,
not even when she gives you a hearty warm-up.
Then you’ll blame her for not doing it right,
for wearing the wrong clothes or not being so tight.
When really the sirens have made you totally numb,
sexually impotent and socially dumb.
But what does it matter when you can find online
every variation of sex you could possibly divine?
Do you want to see a nun sucking her thumb
whilst a furry sticks a dildo into her bum?
Just search a few minutes for a visual feast,
a few more clicks and you’ll be watching a priest!
Nothing in real life will ever compare,
to all those things that the sirens choose to share.
But forgotten will be the dirty words said,
or all the smut you have had in a real bed.
Lost will be the memories of true debauchery,
like how she used her tongue like an act of sorcery.
Or the time she dressed up in thigh high boots,
or when she chose not to wear her swimsuits.
Those things all happened, and they happened to you,
but the siren’s call has left you in lieu.
If you think you’re not trapped just take this test,
try going a week without observing a siren’s breast.
Don’t watch, or click, or view them at all.
be honest, how long did it take for you to fall?
If the siren’s call was instead labelled a drug,
you’d be considered an addict, a fiend, a bug.
But because most men are trapped as well,
no one acknowledges their internal hell.
So, heed this warning one and all,
temptations abound that you may befall.
A bounty of women just a click away,
ready and willing, no need to pay.
This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 1’
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