Poetic Therapy

Give me poetry, not prozac

To get me through my personal issues

And my each and every day.

I don't need any of those little pills

To show me my way.

All that popular-for-today, self help,

Feel good now,bullshit isn't worth a damn!

All those expensive treatments and therapies

Aren't worth shit, they're just a scam!

Versification and rhythm and rhyme,

Simple pure sound and syllable

Each and every time.

If you're seeking closure or meaning

Or answers or healing.

Whatever's ailing you

Or you're having to deal with,

You can handle it all

A lot better with some poetry.

Eating Pussy!

Hand full of ass

And mouth full of pussy,

Tongue digging deep

And she's just so juicy!

She squirms her hips left and right

And all up and down.

I grab a hold tighter

And I suck all around.

I'm not letting up till

She pushes me away.

I'm munching on down

With my head buried between her legs.

My face drenched with her deliciousness.

She explodes in ecstasy

And I suck up her cum and pussy juices!

Out At The Nude Beach

Laid up on the local nude beach

And up to no good!

Summer sunlight dancing on my skin

And tickling the shaft of my wood.

Tanked up with sweet red sangria wine.

I'm feeling all good and friendly and fine!

Don't give a damn about anything,

Just out looking for an anonymous fling.

Gentle warm beach breeze blowing

Up across from the sea.

Hope and anticipation growing

Over the illicit possibilities.

Scanning up and down the shore

For the local law.

Keeping watchful and alert

And hanging out in the raw.

Not picky at all over any rendezvous;

Easy come, easy go, because it's all good!

Looking out for someone

Looking for some company.

Nothing too special just

Someone of like mind and quality.

Singles, couples, swingers, swappers,

Groups, hippies, nature lovers - it's all fine.

I'm up for them all

I don't particularly mind.

Want to stay out longer but

I have to go home.

We go our separate ways

And then I hit the road.

Rearing You

I make no apologies

For the way I'm rearing you.

Nothing I'll ever do to you

Will be as tough or hard

As life, love, and the world

Will be on you later.

I'm rearing you in love

The best way I understand how to.

It's not ever easy, but it

Wasn't meant to be.

I can do it because my parents

Did the job the same way and

Because I'm here with you now.

It's a never ending labor of love

Preparing you for yours

And for the days when I'll not

Be around anymore.

Then all you will truly have

Are God, your sisters, each other,

And the way you were reared.

I Don't Know

They'll say "I know",

But they don't know shit!

The older I get, the less I know.

The more I know, the less I believe.

Don't give a damn about how much education

Anyone has in anything because

It's all for naught.

Truth is, I don't know anything.

I'm just a little more aware and

Experienced than they,

Maybe even a touch enlightened.

Still that doesn't mean anything

Except that I truthfully don't know.

That might be the only truth

I may ever know.

Power Of The Apology

Try the potent power and come clean

With a God given gift to

Get good with your people and heal.

Balance life and love in symmetry.

Forgiveness found and grace restored.

Become spotless and unsoiled in conscience and soul.

A sincere and honest cure and

Repair and reform of damages done.

Maybe even an ultimate acceptance

Or, perhaps acceptance regained.

Me And My Pick-up Truck

Cruising down a Texas highway

Like a Billy Bob redneck

Country music love song!


Windows rolled down,

Engine gunned, and a summer

Wind blowing along!


Road dust layered on her candy

Apple, fire engine, catch me,

Give me a ticket, red coat.


Her interior's a little dusty,

Her exterior's a touch rusty,

But that's all rote.


A sometimes cantankerous old lady

But whisper sweet nothings

And rub her just right.


She'll run all through the day

And burn through

The deep Texas night.


She has her aches and pains

And her idiosyncrancies

But I can deal with them all.


As much as she complains,

We fit together well

And we're having a ball!


She's beautiful as the day I bought

Her off that East Texas

Used car lot.


Paid up in full

And all mine,

She's still red hot.


No sense in bitching

Cause we're practically hitched,

Me and my pick-up truck!

Death Poem

Is this the day I die?

One day the answer will be yes

And I must be ready.

One day I will wake up

Dead in this world

And alive in the next.

No longer here and now

But there and then.

I am born but to die

And then to be born again.

Courage

Give me courage.

Courage to live and

Courage to love.

The courage of conviction.

Courage in battle as well

As courage in peace.

The courage for life

And to bear my life's crosses.

The courage to properly utilize

My gifts and strengths.

The courage to give myself - entirely.

Courage of the saints and

Courage of my grandfathers and grandmothers

And the courage of my parents.

The courage for death, when it is time.

Just give me courage.

After A Poetry Reading

I'm at another poetry reading,

This time at MOD coffeehouse and

We're a small group of four.

We're our own literary island among

The regulars and locals and students and

Even an occasional visitor from out of town.

Am unable to keep my eyes off of Theresa,

She's wearing something low cut and tight and

I'm enthralled by the small brown mole

Peeking out from her left breast.

She's older and a massage therapist and

Her deep southern voice drips with sex

As she recites some poetry. How long has it been for me?

I'm imagining her hands kneading and stroking

My muscles and body to a happy ending.

Then there are the girls working the coffeeshop;

Pretty young twentysomethings.

Single I'm sure and with nothing to lose and

At least not too attatched at that tender age.

Too many issues and hang-ups for my liking.

They're not that secure in themselves - yet.

The clock strikes ten and the shop closes up

So I'm cruising on the seawall in the

Cool clear night on my way home all hot and horny.

I spy a girl or two walking the street

All slow and deliberate and it's

Rather obvious what they're selling.

A lustful storm rages within me,

Fueled by Theresa, the coffeeshop girls, and the streetwalkers.

No sense in going there, but damn I wish I had

Some cash and then what would happen?

I continue on home with my imagination

Rushing and racing and a rock hard erection

Trying to explode through the denim of my jeans.

I'm raging hot and horny and want to fuck - pure and simple!

The kind of hot and wet sweaty sex with little emotion.

Just the physical act and the enjoyment and the release.

Don't ask me why I'm like this; overly strong sex drive,

The poetry, the mole on Theresa's tit?

At home now and Dana "isn't in the mood"

So I'm not getting laid there either; not even

A blow job so we just go to bed.

Furiously masturbating to the visions in my mind

Of the streetwalkers, the coffeeshop girls, and Theresa.

But it's all just self service love and just fantasy.

Damn I wish I had a girlfriend or just a fuck-buddy!

I shoot my load and feel the welcome and familiar wave

Of relaxation and release - for now at least.

Back in reality, I listen to Dana's breathing and

Wrap my arms around her cupping her breast

And I go to sleep.