Come. Sit. Heel. Stay.

Sierra Demulder

When I took your virginity,
I did it carelessly, like a dog
left alone in a butcher shop.
I taught you the way adults love
(quick, dry, no eye contact.)

A year later, in the back of your car,
you showed me what you had learned,
what kind of man I had trained you to be.

There was nothing playful
in the way you hit, tenderizing meat.
Scraping at skin as if you were trying
to take back what you lost inside of me.

By the time you came on my back,
my nipples were chapped
and gnawed as bones. My legs raw,
newly butchered lambs.

—————————————————–

This woman, this Poetess-Goddess, has stolen my breath. I want to write like her someday, if and when I ever grow up. I’m simply and ecstatically overwhelmed by the brutal beauty of each weighted word. This particular poem is from The Bones Below, in which every single poem is a visceral blessing of the senses.

I WILL own every single book of her poems. Or I don’t think I could live.

(Thank you, Mr. Prince, for gifting me. I couldn’t be more pleased.)

I do, after all,  have a kinda-sorta fetish for all things pink  … 

Gloss of the Past

by David Trinidad

Pink Dawn, Aurora Pink, Misty Pink, Fresh Pink, Natural Pink, Country

Pink, Dusty Pink, Pussywillow Pink, Pink Heather, Pink Peony, Sunflower

Pink, Plum Pink, Peach of a Pink, Raspberry Pink, Watermelon Pink, Pink

Lemonade, Bikini Pink, Buoy Buoy Pink, Sea Shell Pink, Pebble Pink, Pink

Piper, Acapulco Pink, Tahiti Beach Pink, Sunny Pink, Hot Pink, Sizzling Pink,

Skinnydip Pink, Flesh Pink, Transparent Pink, Breezy Pink, Sheer Shiver

Pink, Polar Bare Pink, Pink Frost, Frosty Pink, Frost Me Pink, Frosted Pink,

Sugarpuff Pink, Ice Cream Pink, Lickety Pink, Pink Melba, Pink Whip,

Pinkermint, Sweet Young Pink, Little Girl Pink, Fragile Pink, Fainting Pink,

Helpless Pink, Tiny Timid Pink, Wink of Pink, Shadow of Pink, Tint of Pink,

Shimmer of Pink, Flicker of Pink, Pink Flash, E.S. Pink, Person-to-Person

Pink, City Pink, Penny Lane Pink, Pink Paisley, London Luv Pink, Pretty Pink,

Pastel Pink, Pinking Sheer, Pink Piqué, Pink Silk, Plush Pink, Lush Iced Pink,

Brandied Pink, Sheer Pink Champagne, Candlelight Pink, Fluffy Moth Pink,

Softsilver Pink, Pinkyring, Turn Pale Pink, A Little Pink, Pinker, Pinkety Pink,

Heart of Pink, Hug that Pink, Passionate Pink, Snuggle Pink, Pink-Glo!,

Happy-Go-Pink, Daredevil Pink, By Jupiter Pink, Stark Raving Pink, Viva La

Pink

 …Want more?  Mr. Trinidad at Amazon, and  Wikipedia.

Of course, Pink is F**kin’ Perfect.

 

Always & Forever:  Pinky the Dolphin

Free Panties w/ Pink Nation purchase at Victoria’s Secret. 

Rock out with Pink as in Floyd

 

Shop ’till U drop Pink-apalooza

Pinkalicious  Phone Sex

The Pink

1-800-863-5478 ext. 0245-9888

or click here

I’m a Dirty Girl who loves to play with you. Hi boys, my name is Cassie.  I love playing on the phone and talking about all kinds of hot sex. Call now!

Color Me Pinkie

1-800-863-5478 ext. 0352-5649

or click here

I’m in a real 24/7 BDSM relationship and my Master, Blackie, says that I must service you as you wish.  I am ordered to be used as you wish — you are now my Master.

In the Pink

1-800-863-5478 ext. 0376-1094

or click here

Hi, I’m Katie. I’m a 22 year old coed.  I am a petite redhead and have nice tits with large nipples.  I have ALWAYS been a cock tease.

 

Hope you enjoyed this.  Now get pinky-kinky & grab your pinky-dinky give the girls (or me) a call.  

xo, Angela

Why the Young Men Are So Ugly

Tony Hoagland

They have little tractors in their blood
and all day the tractors climb up and down
inside their arms and legs, their
collarbones and heads.

That is why they yell and scream and slam the barbells
down into their clanking slots,
making the metal ring like sledgehammers on iron,
like dungeon prisoners rattling their chains.

That is why they shriek their tires at the stopsign,
why they turn the base up on the stereo
until it shakes the traffic light, until it
dryhumps the eardrum of the crossing guard.

Testosterone is a drug,
and they say No, No, No until
they are overwhelmed and punch
their buddy in the face for joy,

or make a joke about gravy and bottomless holes
to a middle-aged waitress who is gently
setting down the plate in front of them.

If they are grotesque, if
what they say and do is often nothing more
than a kind of psychopathic fart,

it is only because of the tractors,
the tractors in their blood,
revving their engines, chewing up the turf
inside their arteries and veins
It is the testosterone tractor

constantly climbing the mudhill of the world
and dragging the young man behind it
by a chain around his leg.
In the stink and the noise, in the clouds
of filthy exhaust

is where they live. It is the tractors
that make them
what they are. While they make being a man
look like a disease.

———————————————–

Thus the need for Female Domination.  Because, really,  do young men ever really grow up?  Hmmm.

You can find  a list of Mr. Hoagland’s Poetry Books HERE and an absolutely wonderful piece by him on the nature of poetry HERE

xo, Angela

Wedding Dress

Michael Waters

That Halloween I wore your wedding dress,
our children spooked & wouldn’t speak for days.
I’d razored taut calves smooth, teased each blown tress,
then—lipsticked, mascaraed, & self-amazed—
shimmied like a starlet on the dance floor.
I’d never felt so sensual before—
Catholic schoolgirl & neighborhood whore.
In bed, dolled up, undone, we fantasized:
we clutched & fused, torn twins who’d been denied.
You were my shy groom. Love, I was your bride.
________________________________________________

You can read this and more of Mr. Waters’ poetry in his book of poems, Darling Vulgarity

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.

________________________________________

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