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he trims a Cuban cigar and places it in his anti-authoritarian orifice:
Foreshadowing the mysteries of life brings the succulent cauldrons
of mystical salaciousness to a boiling ardor. Iâ€™ll entice the myriad
realms of your enchantress and wring the moisture out of your femininity. Iâ€™ve got a cat of nine tails in my hands- I dare you to stroke me, you sassy wench, just so you may know my obeisant oblations orchestrations. No other woman moves me like the feral vixen you employ.
Choreographed katas supplement his beast.
Heâ€™s adamant and masculine, and plucks the strings of his guitar in anticipation of your sexual harmonies. Pounce firmly on his erotica erectile like the black panther of his lustâ€™s rebellion. Caress the protuberance of his virility- mount his exsertion- hair on hair- wanton on wayward- peal him slowly with your agile ictus- heâ€™s ambrosia and honey- extort the fecundity out of him and give it back like a fertile libation.
Heâ€™s like a Mayan calendar. Excruciatingly exacerbating, imperturbably tenacious. Heâ€™ll draw the sport out of you and make you bounce like a cowgirl on a bronco. Only to buck you off and leave you in the dust like a flaccid martyr on the ground he tramples. Youâ€™ll reminisce his wily gate everywhere you tread, and fondle yourself at the thought of his machismo machinations as you rode his determinism.
His exotic lightning vaunts in the celestial canopy. The blood of new world wizardry, he seduces from the apex axis of his citadel pinnacle. His warrior heights ooze with the psychic clarity of zoomorphic demagogueryâ€™s rebellion and makes the knight groan with exigency. The weight of his words, the upward convection of their accessional draws sweat and sex from your extant. He can sense your arousal from miles away and seduces your mind like a torrential deluge.
He is manumission, no more the faded vision of body incarnates ghosts. He writes of the mesmeric enrapture-ment of its inebriation to tantalize his wanton decadent blatancyâ€™s flagrant. Impetus intrigue and intuitional verve become sensual currency. Heâ€™s the lounging lion, the puissant God, the edifice erection of pornographic wit. The incongruous incognito with no moniker. Seduced by your poet he would romance the sex out of you and leave you enraptured with your own anonymity at the edge of the new world freeway.
| Often times, in poetry, seasons are used as chronological references to periods in a person's life. Autumn being the precursor to death and such, while summer indicating perhaps the most vibrant years of a person's life (when they are in full bloom and such). I find it odd that your title is then spring. Spring speaks of youth, inexperience, a turgidity with underlying development that hasn't quite surfaced yet.|
But in a sense this reads like an impatient author's attempt at the male portion of an erotica cast. Less on the ecchi side, more like a pompadour -- full of bravado and panache. An intellectual egotism. A vanity not of the corporeal self, but rather the mind, and yet expressed in a corporeal fashion.
The first three names ring with a distinctly latin vibe, something like french or italian. The fourth is a little bare but could fit into spanish. The last is unusual in its seemingly germanic construnction. I imagine its very close to the name christopher.
|| Posted on 2016-04-20 00:00:00 | by Outlaw | [ Reply to This ] || Thats quite a pack of fellas. |
Bit wolfish, though...
but then, if I consider a wolf's likely behavior in his own mating season, your Alphas may seem gentlemen in comparison.
And as little as the ladies may wish to admit it, we are easily fascinated by the lupine male.
Nicely done, Bruce.
|| Posted on 2015-06-14 00:00:00 | by latentlylyrical | [ Reply to This ] || this is more obtainable than some of your other wordy pieces. pretty much different sexual alphas. i'm guessing. interesting stuff. i guess fun for most men to imagine ourselves as such. i've never had the heart for it. but still an enjoyable read.||| Posted on 2015-06-09 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ] || The mind does play tricks.||| Posted on 2015-06-07 00:00:00 | by poetotoe | [ Reply to This ] || Dang Bruce I read all these and thought for sure you was talkin' bout me. Then I read that description at the top. O' Well||| Posted on 2015-06-01 00:00:00 | by DaleP | [ Reply to This ] || The "A" Team, perhaps? Quite the collection.||| Posted on 2015-05-31 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ] |