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My sound is very smooth. Not to be to cliche, but really sensual and sultry.

quote by Paul Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Cliche

I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche you've seen before
I am a cliche that lives next door
I am a cliche you know what I mean
I am a cliche pink is obscene
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom

song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Cliche

I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche you've seen before
I am a cliche that lives next door
I am a cliche you know what I mean
I am a cliche pink is obscene
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom

song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I want to tap into different styles. Something definitely mature, sultry, sensual, easy listening that everyone can enjoy. Every one of every race and everyone that likes different styles.

quote by LaToya London
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Fit In, We're Going

here comes the sun, is a cliche.
i put a spell on you, is another cliche.
i think i love you, most abused cliche.
you complete me, movie cliche,
strawberry fields,
scents of magnolia, fresh and soothing,
vanilla ice cream,
chocolate Popsicle,
mint puffs,
and cotton candy, and black forest.

coca-cola and ice cubes,
inside a glass
against the summer sun

your lips sucking the straw
your face covered with my shadow.

i am no longer conscious about their
taboos

got mine, and i like it
when i am finally free.

i store more cliches and
lick them
like Popsicle on a hot
summer day.

no hard feelings. Just fit in.
we're going.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hate Myself And Want To Die (Outtake '92)

Runny nose and runny yolk
Even if you have a cold still
You can cough on me again
I still havent had my fulfill
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
Broken heart and broken bones
Think of how a castrated horsefeels
One more quirky cliche'd phrase
You're the one I wanna refill
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
most people don't realize
that two large pieces of coral,
painted brown, and attached tohis skull
with common wood screws can makea child look like a deer
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
Runny nose and runny yolk
Even if you have a cold still
You can cough on me again
I still havent had my fulfill
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound

song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mouth!

Everything that goes mouth is sensual!
the toffee run up and down,
the noise to blow up a tasty gum,
the mouth open in surprise!

Oh! ! ! !

Everything in your mouth is sensual!
the cleaning of its corners with the napkin,
the clicking of his tongue before you saying yes,
the soft against your lips when they meet one another!

Ah! ! ! !

Everything in ours mouth is sensual!
the dropp we exchanged wet through
Ours lips moving slightly,
Our kisses!

Hummm!

Everything in ours bodies is sensual!
what gonna in yours mouth!
What remains in it and
All that comes an goes!

Ui! ! ! ! !

poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clichés I Have Loved

‘My life has been one long…
cliché! …’ she sobbed.

He put his sunburned
muscular forearm flecked
with golden hairs
around her shaking shoulders.

She lifted her tear-brimmed,
reddening eyes to meet
his steady gaze.

‘Oh my darling..’
she breathed.

And they fell into
a passionate
cliché..

I’ve said it before and
I’ll say it again.
One man’s cliché is
another woman’s love-byte.

John Ciardi said,
The craft of poetry
is not easy.
It is better than easy.
It is joyously difficult.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love In War

[Hook]
Let's kiss, not fight
Try to do whats right tonight
Make love, not war
What the hell are we living for? [repeat]
[Verse]
Tonight we'll make the prettiest song that no one will ever hear
No one will ever hear
No one will ever
These ain't the times to be alone cliche the end is near
Cliche the end is near
Cliche the end is
Quickly approaching while we carry on
No one is promised another day
Why can't the story end like fairytales often do
Before I let you leave I've got to say-ay-ay-ay
[Hook]
[Instrumental]
[Hook]

song performed by by Outkast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sound, Sound the Clarion

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Answer

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife,
Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life,
Is worth an age without name.

quote by Thomas Osbert Mordaunt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any great truth can -- and eventually will -- be expressed as a cliche -- a cliche is a sure and certain way to dilute an idea. For instance, my grandmother used to say, 'The black cat is always the last one off the fence.' I have no idea what she meant, but at one time, it was undoubtedly true.

quote by Solomon Short
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Song

The last song that I shall write
will probably never be heard.
For I shall dream it in the night,
both the notes and the word.
I’m certain it will be the best of the lot
and be heard only by me.
That thought ties me in a knot
from which I am not free.

Will it be fast? Will it be slow?
Will it be smooth and sensual
or maybe a crisp staccato?
No more song after that.
It will shut my music down.
And I will content myself after
with the knowing that all I’ve written
was with passion for the sound.

For I’ve heard these sounds
since I was born
on a cold and blustery Wednesday morn.
I came into this world with music
and will leave with it someday.
And the last song will travel with me
and be heard in the Milky Way.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gliding In The Air

A bird is wrestling the wind with its feathers,
Even then the flight is smooth, as smooth as the air.

Best of the eagles are against the flight of others,
Eventually they look like a mouth, as smooth as the air.

A strange spectacle has been captured in the rain,
After a bird, not reptile, does fly south, as smooth as the air.

When strangers bespeak a multifarious journey through the air,
I gather it is more than just levitation or youth, as smooth as the air.

I love the young journey to the east,
A happy rhythm up north, as smooth as the air.

Why do we hesitate to look powerful?
When we glide in the sky, as smooth as the air.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is a cliche that most cliches are true, but then like most cliches, that cliche is untrue.

quote by Stephen Fry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rhymes...

Roses are red
Violets are blue
These rhymes make no sense
But sound good they do

Worn out cliché
Guess some like it this way
If the words fit the puzzle
I will put on my muzzle

But
Unless you think like a limerick
Say what you want to speak
Not what you want me to read

poem by Adam Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sensual World

Mmh, yes,
Then Id taken the kiss of seedcake back from his mouth
Going deep south, go down, mmh, yes,
Took six big wheels and rolled our bodies
Off of howth head and into the flesh, mmh, yes,
He said I was a flower of the mountain, yes,
But now Ive powers oer a womans body, yes.
Stepping out of the page into the sensual world.
Stepping out...
To where the water and the earth caress
And the down of a peach says mmh, yes,
Do I look for those millionaires
Like a machiavellian girl would
When I could wear a sunset? mmh, yes,
And how wed wished to live in the sensual world
You dont need words--just one kiss, then another.
Stepping out of the page into the sensual world
Stepping out, off the page, into the sensual world.
And then our arrows of desire rewrite the speech, mmh, yes,
And then he whispered would i, mmh, yes,
Be safe, mmh, yes, from mountain flowers?
And at first with the charm around him, mmh, yes,
He loosened it so if it slipped between my breasts
Hed rescue it, mmh, yes,
And his spark took life in my hand and, mmh, yes,
I said, mmh, yes,
But not yet, mmh, yes,
Mmh, yes.

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love Sensual Women

I love sensual women and not passionate ones. A passionate woman closes her eyes, moans and shouts and the enjoyment of a passionate woman is blind.

A passionate woman writhes about, grabs you with her hands without looking where, clasps you, kisses you, even bites you and hurries to reach her climax as soon as she can. She has no time to display her sexual organs, no time to examine, touch with the hand and kiss your sexual organs, she is in such a hurry to slake her passion. Having slaked her passion, the passionate woman will fall asleep. The sexual organs of a passionate woman are dry. A passionate woman is always in some way or another mannish.

The sensual woman is always feminine.
Her contours are rounded and abundant.

The sensual woman rarely reaches a blind passion. She savours sexual enjoyment.
The sensual woman is always a woman and even in an unaroused state her sexual organs are moist. She has to wear a bandage on her sexual organs, so as not to soak them with moisture.

When she takes the bandage off in the evening, the bandage is so wet that it can be squeezed out.

Thanks to such an abundance of juices, the sexual organs of a sensual woman give off a slight, pleasant smell which increases strongly when the sensual woman is aroused. Then the juice from her sexual organs is secreted in a syrupy stream.

A sensual woman likes you to examine her sexual organs.

poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boca

Tudo que vai a boca é sensual!
a bala macia, correndo de um lado para outro!
o barulho gostoso do explodir de um chiclete!
o abrir a boca de surpresa!

OH! ! !

Tudo em sua boca é sensual!
o limpar os seus cantos com o guardanapo
o estalar de sua lígua quase dizendo sim
o leve encontro de seus lábios um contra o outro!

AH! ! !

Tudo em nossa boca é sensual!
o drops que trocamos molhado
nossos lábios batendo em leve encontro!
nosso beijo!

Hummmmm!

Tudo em nosso corpo é sensual!
o que vai a boca
o que permanece nela
a dança do que entra e sai!

UI! !

poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remembering Lena Horne

When she began her ballad,
an invisible torch melted her words,
slurring sex into sultry sounds.

The intimacy in her deep eyes
went straight to every man there.
Even women found themselves
limp with lust lingering on lips.

As she sang each sensual sound,
Her mouth formed words like a kiss.
Men sweated as they dreamed of
taking songs into the caverns
of their body, stalagmites forming
from music and imagination.
Their eyes closed. The dream grew.

Tones caressed shamelessly. Words went
from tongues exploring mouths of listeners,
a flagrant intimacy growing from song.
The spellbound crowd wished her music
would have no end. Each heavy breath
became shallow with expectations.
The final note brought no release.
Instead, the audience was left
with a prurient promise of more to come.

*Lena Horne died in May of 2010 and those of us lucky enough to hear her sing will never forget her.

poem by Raynette Eitel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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