a poem about Adam
there is stored force
in your hands running through
your fingers
it is erotic.
there are eight hills below
those sturdy hands
there is tiny circular pond
deprived of water
nearby is a forest with bushes
black and bereft of leaves
pygmy hair
you see a bone but you
rather call it a tree of life
it is so erotic
there are no clouds which are heavy
some drops of rain pour down
there is an explosion inside the mind
it is not yet on the month of July
it is so erotic
it is life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Some Get Erotic
Some get erotic,
When the bottom drops...
And they hit the rocks.
Like their heads had knocked against,
Acknowledged nonsense.
Some get erotic,
When the bottom drops...
And they hit the rocks.
Like they got up from a shock,
That all their bubbles popped!
And they found out...
They were isolated and locked.
And they found out...
Life is not about what they've got!
And they found out...
They were isolated and locked.
And they found out...
The bottom rushes to the top.
When you're dropping,
Isolated.
When your'e dropping,
And locked.
Some get erotic,
When the bottom drops...
And they hit the rocks.
Like they got up from a shock,
That all their bubbles popped!
And they found out...
They were isolated and locked.
And they found out...
The bottom rushes to the top.
When you're dropping,
Isolated.
When your'e dropping,
And locked.
When you're dropping,
Isolated.
When your'e dropping,
And locked.
Some get erotic,
When the bottom drops...
Like they got up from a shock,
That all their bubbles popped!
And isolated,
When their droppin'
Isolated,
And locked.
Isolated,
When their droppin'
Isolated,
And locked.
Some get erotic,
When the bottom drops...
And a lifestyle stops!
Some get erotic,
When their droppin' isolated and locked.
Some get erotic when the bottom drops...
And a lifestyle stops!
Some get erotic,
When their droppin' isolated and locked.
Some get erotic when the bottom drops...
And a lifestyle stops!
Some get erotic when the bottom drops...
And a lifestyle stops!
Some get erotic when the bottom drops...
And a lifestyle stops!
Some get erotic when the bottom drops...
And a lifestyle stops!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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She must touch mine {adult contents}
I must touch the woman to grow erotic;
No need that she should.
I must kiss the woman to grow erotic;
No need that she should.
I must feed on her than she on me.
The only arena where
She can make me erotic
Is when she takes mine in her palm.
27.01.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Thunderpuss GHV2 Megamix
Hey mister DJ
Put a record on
Tell me love isnt true
Its just something that we do
Tell me everything Im not
But please dont tell me to stop
Please dont (ah)
Please dont
Please dont tell me to stop
Dont you ever
(Give it up, do as I say)
(Give it up, do as I say)
Erotic, erotic
Put your hands all over my body
Erotic, erotic
Put your hands all over my body
(mm, mm)
Erotic, erotic
Put your hands all over my body
(mm, mm)
Erotic, erotic
Mm, mm
Somethings coming over
Mm, mm
Somethings coming over
Mm, mm
Somethings coming over me
My babys got a secret
Mm, mm
Mm, mm
Mm, mm (youre frozen)
Give yourself to me
Mm, mm (youre frozen)
You hold the key
Do you know
What it feels like for a girl
Do you know
What it feels like in this world
For a girl
Youd love to know what its like, wouldnt you?
What it feels like for a girl
Ive always been in love with you (always with you)
I guess youve always known its true (you know its true)
You took my love for granted why, oh why
The show is over say goodbye
Say goodbye
(You recognize my voice?
Its Madonna
You can hear me?)
Deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper
I cant help falling in love
I fall deeper and deeper
The further I go
Kisses sent from heaven above
They get sweeter and sweeter
The more that I know
The deeper, the deeper, the deeper I go
Youve got to just
Let your body move to the music
Music, music, music, music
Music makes the people
Come together, yeah
Music makes the borgoisie and the rebel
Quicker than a ray of light
Quicker than a ray of light
Quicker than a ray of light
Then I feel like I just got home
And I feel
And I feel like I just got home
And I feel
(Laughs)
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Exotic and erotic
I strongly incline my ears,
My sight i vividly open,
You complete my whole,
Your words and your touch,
Exotic and erotic
Your soft skin i long to touch,
Your tender voice i like,
My heart filled with desire,
Desire to love you more,
Exotic and erotic
Lets make a baby,
The pride of my seed,
So shall it be then,
Your love i desire,
Please rescue thee,
Exotic and erotic
Touch me like that,
Hold me like this,
Kiss me right there
Yes you are,
So erotic and exotic
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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An Erotic Man
an erotic man
takes another woman away
and she is carried away
until another man
pumps bullets
and then the erotic man is taken away
by her husband
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I do not deny that I have made drawings and watercolors of an erotic nature. But they are always works of art. Are there no artists who have done erotic pictures?
quote by Egon Schiele
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Janette
Out of your sweet lips came love,
Out of your lovely hands came romance,
And out of your soft body came something so sweet!
Oh Janette, you are my lover on this love boat forever.
Erotic is your name and erotic is your love,
For i met sweet love in your blue eyes on the first day.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Part of the lesbian consciousness is an absolute recognition of the erotic within our lives and, taking that a step further, dealing with the erotic not only in sexual terms.
quote by Audre Lorde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Erotic Hair
when my hair
gets long enough
after a month
uncut by
my gay barber
they become
so curly
like my pubic
hair
and women
and even gays
love all the curls
of my hair
erotic hair
and i am wearing it
as a crown
understand
i am coping up
with mid-crisis
and i like to
say
i got hair
and they are too curly
like my
(messy) sex life
listen, my life
begins at 69.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Daily Love, Daily Bread
jesus and father above
daily let us love
this very pleasant way
in each other
every which way!
pleasure-seekers
honest and real
inspire us with passion
the best way to feel
fill others as stars in your skies
with your God-given erotic highs
love from the heart too
direct from you two
in us - your erotic mind
such sensual treasure we find!
thanks for such good 'fishing'
off heaven's banks
poem by Harlan Simantel
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Man to be a man to women
A manly man is erotic
in stimulating a woman.
He takes her to heaven.
A womanly man is erotic
in being stimulated by a woman.
She sends him to heaven.
24.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sprinkle Your Love
The glazing sunshine
Afternoon
Under that tree
Tree with dry leaves
Visible roots
Dry earth
Give me water
To drink
And sprinkle your love
On the bareness of my heart
The sky and some patches of white clouds
I stretch
Hold my hands
The hands dry like the branches of that tree
Hold my hands
For these hands
May grow some leaves
And fruits
Like the hope
I have
From the tree
My love
Do not despair
There is blood
Still running in my veins
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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The phenomenon of desire
A man is more erotic
In desiring a woman
Than her desiring him.
A woman is more erotic
In tempting him to desire
Than her desiring him.
11.06.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Shared Heaven
For the dream slaves
the incense has become a moon
for the alchemic effect of tear’s stain
in erotic war.
Ask a mooner,
will he bring her to bed
for a song to measure the cantus
between flight of strings in midnight?
The small bruises of stars
were playing under the lemon tree
in sinking clouds. You must know
the richness of poverty at night.
This was the theme to play,
it was enough to have walked on golden
leaves of November, while I was collecting
the false truths of life.
poem by Satish Verma
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Autumn In July
It was a cool July and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.
And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.
I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive; snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?
An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn, for this I know.
What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July, for
Autumn is abound.
Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or have the sparrows lost their way?
Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.
Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.
Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.
poem by Waldon Pond Productions
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Subbacultcha
This is a song about something there
There is something about this song
We did the clubs what ass
I was hoping to have her in the sack
I was looking handsome
She was looking like an erotic vulture
I was all dressed in black
She was all dressed up in black
Every thing was fine down here
What you call it here
Call it what you will here
Way down down down in this subbacultcha
Her warm white belly in the life Id lived had seen nothing
Finer she shakes and she moves me or something
Shes like jellyroll like sculpture
I was wearing eyeliner
She was wearing eyeliner
It was so good down here
Saving for my scrapbook here
Way down down down in this subbacultcha
Now we live on the sea and relax and ride the tack
Drug running on this panamanian schooner
She walks the deck in a black dress
And me I dress up in black
And we listen to the sea
And look at the sky in a poetic kind of way
What you call it
When you look at the sky in a poetic kind of way
You know when you grope for luna.
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Desire
No one could ever doubt my rapture
As you too will soon discover
No one will ever cross my love
Deadly consequence will rise above
Lying all alone
Visions of erotic bliss
Feel your warmth from inside your skin
A fever I can not resist
Desire I would kill for you
Right or wrong I'd do anything
True and pure the intensity
Every time death is next to me
Lying all alone
Visions of erotic bliss
Feel your warmth from inside your skin
A fever I can not resist
Anxiously feeling grotesque
Up against your flesh
Forbidden fantasies
Uncontrollable heat
Find yourself all alone and dead
Visions of corroding bliss
Feel the warmth from inside your skin
A sensation I can't resist
song performed by by Slayer from Diabolus In Musica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The only foreplay I really need is for a guy to kiss my hip bone. The hip is the most erotic and neglected body part. Kiss the hip bone with your lips.
quote by Karen McDougal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiny Drop
Waste of Tiny, Tiny Water Drops.
Always Trigger my Conscious Thoughts.
A Tiny Water Drop can make a Sapling Laugh
Tiny, Tiny water Drops can get you sweet Pod.
Tiny, Tiny Water Drops can make a Plant to Stand
As a Tree, This can give Shelter to a Lot.
Because of Waste of Tiny, Tiny water Drops
Many lives have become short.
So try to save even tiny water Drop, Which will
Get you Heartily Laugh.
poem by Narendra Kuppan
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Monitored or Not It Just Becomes Hypnotic
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Or the chopping heard of meat on a butcher's block!
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop!
People like their beef stewed nice and hot!
And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Like people wishing happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit.
Just sit.
And all they have to do is just wait for it!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
Hypnotic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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