She Sold Love

Erotica, R-18+

She sold love
But people called it sex
An intimate embrace
Beyond mere friction of the flesh
A listening ear
A compassionate hug
A shoulder to cry on
She sold love
She sold safety
She sold an understanding
Of the interplay between primal passion
And the crippling confusion of life
By undressing herself
She undressed their minds
By allowing them access to her
She allowed them access to themselves
Her body became a mirror to their soul
Her movements become a spell of release
Far beyond the physical
Far beyond the now
Far beyond anything her detractors can give
She sold love

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Sex Entrepreneur

Erotica, R-18+

He’s a whore
Always wanting more
Sliding into your DM’s for sure
Trying to lay down the law
Trying to touch your contour

But he’s just a bore

Saying he can cure
Saying he can ensure
Saying he can endure

But it’s all talk, a fake allure
His sex is manure

You better take a detour

Embrace someone more mature
Someone who knows how to secure
Someone who will unlock your impure
Someone who fucks with vigour
Who knows how to reassure
And won’t be premature

You need someone pure
Who knows how to lure
Who treats your body like a tour
Who is never unsure
Who will always feel secure

You know what you need?

A man who embraces your demure
By acting as a sex chauffeur
Showing you ways to be impure
Showing you the best of our culture

A kinky paramour
A love connoisseur
A boredom saboteur

You need a sex entrepreneur

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Pun-ishment

Erotica, R-18+

It’s hard to write erotica,
The words don’t always cum easily.
In order to rise to the occasion,
I have to pull off the impossible;
Sucking readers in by
Teasing out their arousal
And penetrating their minds.
With just my fingers, a page, and a pen,
I’m to erect a compelling story
That will take them on a ride they never forget.
The plot must be firm
And thrust ever forward
Towards its mind altering climax
All without making a tit of myself in the process and blowing it.
Sometimes I get a bit anal,
Choking on a bratty sentence here and there.
But most of the time it’s a pleasure.
I love pinning an idea down,
Confining it to the page,
Exploring its limits,
Whipping it into shape,
Dressing it up,
And then exposing it to the world.
I like to go deep,
I like to be thorough,
I like to really grind it out.
Thus my writing sessions are long,
But ultimately my readers are satisfied,
Often multiple times.

So tell me dear reader,
Was that enough pun-ishment for today?

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Good Girl #2

Erotica, R-18+

Stand
Twirl
Face me
Smile
Face away
Bend
Assume position
Present yourself
Wider
Welcome me
Squeeze
Push back
Deeper
Accept me
Fully

Good girl

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Little

Erotica, R-18+

I need a little,
That’s old enough to understand.

I need a little,
That’s mature enough to speak their mind.

I need a little,
That’s sophisticated enough to embody their persona.

I need a little,
That’s practiced enough to know their limits.

I need a little,
That’s big enough to handle me.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Digital Cuck

Erotica, R-18+

Hey there fella,
you’re a digital cuck.
Getting yourself off by
watching another man fuck.

I know your style.
Getting to the brink,
then skipping ahead
to finish in sync.

Oh, you don’t like it
when he moans out loud.
Yet you imagine being him
as a substitute for feeling proud.

You can’t get laid
nay, you’ve given up trying.
Why would you bother?
You’re too much of a shy thing.

Twice a day
you open up your phone,
grab some tissues
and watch a man get blown.

Pretend for a minute,
that you could do this in real life.
Would you play with yourself
in a room with a man and his wife? 

Would you time your orgasm
so that you finish as one?
Would you picture yourself
being the one having the fun?

No,
most men would balk at the thought.
Yet give them a phone,
and their dicks will go taut.

They’re digital cucks
and they don’t realise it.
Nor their habits mean,
nor why they can’t quit.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Holistic Head

Erotica, R-18+

Preventative penetration
Medicinal make out
Tonic tongue
Recovery root
Therapeutic throating
Mindful masturbation
Holistic head

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Bespoke

Erotica, R-18+

Nothing
Is more arousing
Than you
As you are
Right now

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

i find myself

i find myself
standing in a river
hands outstretched
struggling
in a futile attempt
to hold back the flow

fretting
over all the water
slipping through my fingers
and the erosion underfoot
threatening to dislodge
my fragile defiance

then

a bird call
a gust of wind
a glimpse of sunshine

a moment of surrender

i let go
and just float
trusting the river
to take me
wherever
i need to be

---

Watch this poem on YouTube

This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Stuck Inside My Mind

This is freestyle improve poem, you can watch the video on Instagram, listen to the audio here

i feel stuck inside my brain
the anxiety is gone
but the pain still remains
my childhood on repeat
embodying the shame
fear
loneliness
self-blame
what remains but tears?
what remains but fears?
what remains but me staring into my own soul?
trying to fill my own
i'm not whole
i'm wanting to see
i'm wanting to be
i'm wanting to move
i'm wanting to be free
but the pain she has me
maybe it's the past
the past me that she had
she grabbed me
held me
hurt me
i don't know me
all those things
are they a memory or they of false lie?
you know gaslighting myself
through the past memories of me?
trauma comes trauma goes
what am i left with?
nobody knows just fucking rhymes
just me speaking to myself
counting through times
saving time
stopping time
because right now i want to be here in this time
now
here
now
right now
what is it about now that feels so unsafe?
nothing's wrong
this thing this place is fine
i am safe
but my mind it feels like a wafe
i'm weak
i feel unable to speak
unless i'm alone
unless i'm holding this phone
unless i'm looking into my own eyes
unless i'm remembering what i despise
a lot of the time
it's myself the ways that i responded to things well beyond me
her eyes who could see through me
i don't even know me
the things that i like
the things that i do
do i actually like them or are they a response to you?
to what you did?
to what you said?
to what you made me feel?
my life will work is just to heal
what sort of life is that?
what sort of a life is one in response
reactive instead of proactive
responding to triggers inside my body?
i feel that i want to heal
not lie dead or turn over and keel
but it's fucking hard to keep going
to keep on showing up
to keep moving
to keep hoping
stop myself from blowing up
i put these words out there
and wonder they’ll corrupt another person like me
into thinking differently
into speaking out
into seeking help
into understanding what it's all about
that they're not alone
that they can find a home
i say all of these things
but it's all a fucking lie
because my body and my brain seem to want to fucking die
waking up in tears
reverberating in fear
it seems clear that this battle is ongoing
that have to keep on showing up
that i have to keep on moving
but it's just hard
it's hard to keep on grooving when the music is playing
sounds like a funeral march
starch words
my mouth is parched
shouldn't go to alcohol
shouldn't drink
because then i'd be unable to think
vomit those words down the sink
with the food
with what i eat
with the souls of my feet
i walk across broken glass
across jagged rocks
raw skin no socks
let alone shoes let alone
support or help
who would break the news?
who would share such blues?
thank god that i have children to keep me here
i have to remain to help them
to show them
to teach them how to tie their shoes
to hold them hand in hand
to walk them across the land
to carry them on my shoulders
to say
‘hey look at life it can be grand!’
i'm blessed with the baggage of life
weighed down by love
despite all of the inner strife
i'm weighed down but i wonder whether my father was also
he had me
he had my brother
yet he fell
to another
to himself
to the trauma he had
generational it’s cyclic
so that i wonder
i hold my kids up
i walk with them
i show them the way
but the way is blocked
by my own dismay
they see it in my eyes
they see it in my tears
they see me suffering
they see my fears
and they know that they are part me
genetically
environmentally
are they cursed like me?
are they cursed to see the world bleakly?
are they cursed to walk meekly
in fear of themselves
and how they respond to every little thing?
people say i'm brave for speaking out thusly
to put my thoughts here
to share what's in here
but it's not brave
it’s all i can do to save myself
to express the inner mess
from the safety of a screen
when really i can't handle being seen
what would it mean for you to see my soul?
to see me
actually
to see my whole?
my whole self
these words
my words
the pain it needs to become my wealth because i can't handle doing anything else
take a breath
drop all expectations
be here now
you are safe
good thoughts
bad thoughts
it's ok to have all thoughts
these are the words i say to myself
daily
let it go and just feel
take some time
take a breath
heal
it's okay
it's okay to look to not know your way
i say these words to myself every day
i say them in my head when i'm watching my kids play
when he's over there and i'm here and we're just a metre away
but i can't seem to breach that inner gap
i can't seem to take that step to have him and hold him and put him in my lap and hug him and say him it's okay to say that it's just a day
that daddy will be okay
because i don't know
and yet i persist
i keep going
i keep trying to find my way
i keep trying to see the truth
so if you're listened all of this way
10 minutes
turn this video off
sit in the sun
speak
find a way to play to make this day go your way
to slay
to play
or at least just to allay
some of the negativity
keeping your brain at bay
see you next time
hey

---

This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.

You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Do You Love Me, Or Just The Idea Of Me?

Do you love me,
Or just the idea of me?

I may be your ‘dream girl’
But I am real,
And that reality is different
From your fantasy.

How often must we fight,
Just to clarify
That you expected
Me to speak differently?

How many tears must fall,
Just to realise
That you expected
Me to be something I’m not?

If you love me,
Please drop your expectations
And open your eyes
To the real me.

My body has blemishes.
I will lose my temper.
I judge unfairly.
I get things wrong. 

I am not perfect,
No one is.
Unless of course,
They’re just a dream.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Written Review

Erotica, R-18+

The guy seemed all talk,
promising to make me scream.
Like nothing I’ve experienced before,
He’d fulfil my wildest dream.

‘I’m larger than average,
my tongue can do a trick,
with my hands I’ll caress,
my moves are super slick.’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied,
‘It’s easy to brag,
do you come with references
that can rate your shag?’

‘Oh yes,’ He said
handing me a written review.
Promising that I’d be so satisfied that
I’d write him one too.

Now I had some proof
that he could potentially deliver,
besides all this banter
was starting to make me shiver.

Why not? I thought,
may as well give him a crack.
I invited him over
and laid down on my back.

With deft proficiency
he touched me everywhere,
slowly building up
until I was screaming a prayer.

‘My goodness!’ I exclaimed,
you need to work on your words.
‘Dam boy you’re underselling yourself,
at least by two thirds.’

He didn’t stop there
in fact he went harder,
pulling out the toys and
tying me down with ardor.

He taught me new moves
and positions of pleasure.
He guided me through new scenes,
totally at his leisure.

That suited me fine cause
I was enjoying the ride
and that is why I’ve chosen
in this poem to confide.

He may seem all talk
but trust me when I say,
that he will deliver on it all
satisfying you in every way.

I am in fact surprised
that he doesn’t come with a queue.
Hopefully I can fix that for him,
with this written review.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Here Lies My Head

There’s something wrong with my head,
Chaos overwhelms when I pull the thread.
Nothing’s real and my rationality’s fled.
When I turn inwards and face the dread.
Mental landmines impact my tread,
Realisations growing like bacteria bred.
Answers to questions best left unsaid.
Like how come what happened in that bed,
Is less confronting than what was said?
Or why you were all silent whenever I plead,
Whenever I withdrew, and whenever I bled?
Or who would I be were I not shred?
Dead or alive, it all feels the same,
My vision clouded red.
Fed lies and shamed, misled and blamed.
Instead of love I was led into fear.
Crossbred reality with fiction, with you the godhead.
My anger disparaged, an outburst unread, just a hothead,
Stoking the fire of my heart, molten lead.
Left me burning, a stomach warhead.
Left me confused, with no cred
‘Ability to explain my pain, or why I spread
Myself around for anyone’s gain, or why I wish for anything else instead.

It’s time for a re-tread. To face the dread of the bed and what was said. To destroy the godhead, to pull the thread, to get out of my head, to retract the mislead, to remove the lead, to heal where I bled, to put onto the page all that’s unread, and to forgive the boy who couldn’t have fled.

Here lies my head.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

He Accepts

He accepts the world as it is
Never asking for much
beyond a smile and a hug.

Unruffled by change,
Volume, voice, or visage.
He embraces you for who you are.

Happiness is never far from him.
Small accomplishments
yield disproportionate joy.

Just a look will change his entire world,
And in doing so cause
His unfiltered response to change yours.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

For As Long As I Have Eyes

I dream of flowing lines,
Of black and red reeds painted upon canvas,
Dripped into life,
Pulled forth from my mind,
The perfect representation.
The chaos of a moment
Captured for eternity,
Or at least for as long as I have eyes
To see what I’ve made.

But that vision
Is a just as much of a lie
As these words upon a page.
For they never were written,
Merely typed.
A digital expression of an analogy problem.

I am of two ages.
An alien in both worlds,
None his own,
None his hone,
None he wants to return to,
None he wants to live through.

I act and then think.
I act and then justify those actions.
A post hoc self-hypnosis to avoid dissonance.
A way to persist.
A way to function.

But to what end?

The answer comes
Calling out,
‘Daddy let me show you something!’

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Fleeting

Eyes meet
A fleeting moment
Futures fractal
Possibilities endless

Turn away
A moment passes
Fading memories
What can never be

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Fever Dreams

Fever dreams
Liberate the mind
Boundless and edgeless
Thoughts flow
Skipping between
Ponds of reality
No longer constrained
By rationality
I drift
What once thirsted for stability
Now wants for nothing
But the pretty colours
That seem to hold
All meaning
Within this play
Of consciousness

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Chaotic Beauty

A chaotic beauty,
A trusting soul,
Mother’s love for all.

She’s seen things,
And survived worse,
Feeling it all.

A chaotic passion,
A new goal,
Abundance for her soul.

She’s taking action,
Making her mark,
Becoming her all.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

autumn leaves

the earth sighs
autumn leaves
beautiful in death
fall discarded
left to decay
until the earth
takes another breath

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Laughing

I don’t want
to be
where
I am

I could move but
there is
nowhere
I can go

I am trapped
inside
my cursed
mind

It follows
me
everywhere
laughing
at my
pain

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.