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Sunday, October 24th, 2010
4:00 pm
Interesting stuff
Hi there, interesting stuff, have you thought about getting a memory foam mattress to replace your current bed? They're one of the best things on the market right now!

Memory Foam Mattress

(1 in the bed | the little one says. . .)

Wednesday, March 7th, 2007
12:17 am
PORNpoems tryout #001 (special dutchies only 0_o sorry boy&girls)

Mmm.. dame Mleen
waarom moet ik nu toch heen
het regende zo hard
en kon amper staan op mijn been

kus je buikje liefs
een 1000 maal
bleef maar hangenstunkydrunk verrotkapot
want niemand anders mocht met jouw aan de haal

had wel wijn pijn venijn
in de kop
zo drunky

Mmm...dame Mleen
waarom zend je me nu heen
proefde zo zoet jouw...

jaja ben gemeen van kop tot teen

maar jij
ook gewoon
een te lekkere mooie vrouw
moest nu 
plots gauw
mmm mMM
mmm mMM
weet het zelf ook
mmm mMM
mmm mMM
mooie geile geisha
vol onschuldige liefde 
geef ieder puppy mans hart auwauw
mmm mMM
mmm mMM
ik ben 
mmm mMM
mmm mMM
zo gauw
mmm mMM
mmm mMM
lekker lauw
mmm mMM
mmm mMM
mmm mMM
mmm mMM

lik je daar
verboden vruchten liggen te wachten

1000 gedachtes gaan door dit hoofd
sommige ongeoorloofd
maar toch wel gewenst

wat is het toch
zocht jouw lichaam af
zacht proefend met mijn tong

dorstend naar gelest te worden
zoekend naar
daar waar 
de verborgen heuvels van paradijs
die bij elke toenadering
genietend terug deinst
het wordt een lange mooie reis

hoe kan ik beschrijven
1000 woorden
opnieuw in telijven
zodat het werkelijk
weergelegd blijft
de schoonheid van
vrouwelijk vormen volgend
met mijn lippen
jou blootgelegd lijf
lekker wijf
wil je likken
als jij was
lekker smeltend ola ijs

* Mmm...all thanX4da Muze by Lady Mleen *

(the little one says. . .)

Thursday, January 18th, 2007
9:37 am
UnFamX.storie # 021205
i'm a gravedigger
into my own backyard fields

brave superhero to rescue tomorrows
who always comes to late

angel lost in heaven
blinded for paradise

mercy full greed-er
walking on thin ice

jesus failure figure
but all the crosses
has fall down

i'm god in the mirror
when there's none else around

could be burning in heaven 
while live happy in hell


Current Mood: coffee&smokes

(the little one says. . .)

Saturday, January 13th, 2007
3:33 am
ha.. while b da 1e in 2007 and mayb this is already dead. but M keep on Blieving otherwise life sad

could love to smell da pussy in da morning
horny from first sight
take Us home this night

while M gently put words into her ear
all things she needed to hear
all things M could shear
drunkystoned as we wanna fuck
just gett'd stuck into sweaty once white blanked sheets

treat me some angelface
2 blow
let M all go
show M a mountaintop
2 climb high
so M can drop down low

cause that's al M know

love as da  Sun
Burning da naked flesh
fuck like a wild beast
cause each moment can B da last


(the little one says. . .)

Sunday, April 9th, 2006
5:21 pm
This community seems half-closed, but I dug the purposely pretentious concept.
the business is a sort of love

each silk cut embrace
between him and I
was charged on his American Express card

his beauty was the sort
that set women screaming
hair all torn out
his money the sort that reeled them back,
thighs spreads teeth flashing between gasping giggles

he fingered things that ought not to be fingered
pressure between legs, armpits, mouth
curious like a strange, little boy
prodding a translucent jellyfish
on the beach

i licked a long, red cherry for him,
grasping with my lips, humming.
he paid me, fists greasy,
blushing pug dog face

(the little one says. . .)

Tuesday, May 3rd, 2005
11:52 pm
i know this unfamiliar fantasy like
the back of my hand
straining with veins as fingers work into
the pink split of my heart
i have always kept my heart between my legs
and always will
it is the warmest place after all
and well-dressed
in shades of ruby and oyster flesh

(2 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

Friday, February 11th, 2005
6:40 pm
As I melt into her eyes,
I kiss her lips ,
her neck and chin
I feel as if I never want this to end,
I lift her into my arms,
hold her tight,
I tell her I love her and kiss her again,
I carry her to my room,
I lie her down on my bed,
and watch our passion bloom,
I rest her head,
upon my pillow,
My body burns with a passionate fire,
Yet I remain calm and mellow,
I express to her my desire,
And she complies,
With a soft gentle moan,
It is just the two of us alone,
I kiss down her tummy,
to her inner thighs,
I lick and caress her,
teasing here,
pleasing there,
always staying away from her flower,
that wants to bloom inside her
Finally I lick her folds,
very slowly and lovingly
I mold
my tongue around her
dip in her honey dew
still she squirms in delight,
I come back up and kiss her,
and say I love you,

I insert myself inside her,
feel her wetness against my member,
feel her tightness engulfing my essence,
I cry out in ecstasy,
and smile at her with love
and feel herself push against me
I move in slow circles,
working deep inside
my passionate fire,
I can no longer hide,
our bodies pump as one,
our souls join in the fun ,
my eyes want to roll back in my head,
and I cry out instead
that she feels so good
I caress her skin
as I feel myself going deeper in,

I kiss her body,
I feel her breasts,
I feel her nipples against my chest
hardening as she wraps her legs around me,
pulling me ever so closer to her
and sets my passion free,
I tell her that I am very near and she smiles without fear,
and pushes me deeper inside her,
and holds on tighter
I feel myself getting stiffer
as I thrust and pump harder and harder,
I moan as the time draws near
I tell her I am gonna explode she cries out,
and I feel a gush of wetness against me,
then I moan her name and that I love her
then I unload
my passion
now spent we collapse holding each other
I smile at her and say thank you
now that I have rested,
would you like to go again my lover?

(5 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

Saturday, January 29th, 2005
1:53 pm
The Pearl’s Agonizing Image

All I remember is the light scent of tulips
Hovering within the intriguing pastures
Of a pastoral dream coming to me in waves,
And the thick vibrations in your coffee eyes.

Roaming passages swept from overhead,
And my light tongue caressing your knees,
Slowly making its way to your peach thighs.
If only it wasn’t so wonderful - so I could forget.

My eyes criss-crossing when coming to freckles,
And my lips allowing a slightly monotonous whistle.
The musky smell of spice arriving with each lick,
Causing spasms of long-lost innocence within me.

And so the dream began…

Through a light breeze of soft music I noticed
The chanting behind your fluffy tranquil breathing.
And the corners of my mind worked in spirals,
Hoping to make room for this new set of pleasure.

Closer and closer, my body grew closer to yours.
My head was grasped by your two fragile hands,
And your voice moaned soft riddles in the darkness,
Coinciding with the physical shivers I knew completely.

My passion exploded after my tongue’s endless beauty,
Touching the graceful quivering of your patchwork,
And the aesthetic pleasure of your sweetness.
If only I could taste the dripping honey for hours on end.

One more night of solitude comes to closure, as I
Grip the ugly piece in four fingers and stare.
Will these pleasures ever become completely true?
Or will I be left only to dream of your euphoric taste?

(6 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

Monday, January 17th, 2005
1:24 pm
she'll tighten her palm on my shaft
and i don't care
i'm dead

she'll bob on the end
and i can't feel it
i'm dying

she'll suck and preen
and i admit
i'm alive


Lay on me
Rub my parts
Breathe in my face
Hate me
Hate every inch of my face
Now please
Fuck me

(1 in the bed | the little one says. . .)

Monday, September 20th, 2004
10:49 am
this abstract desire is as obscene
as my legs wrapped around your back
our fervor unleashed through the veins
under our skin as thin as leaves
when we're vulnerable primal animals
and raw as their slaughtered meat
only the bloodhounds could sniff this out
and I want to fuck the life from
the stem which impales my womb
& keeps the liquid from flowing
to your sweating bud
making you dizzy you know
it can never be hard enough for me
I like being stabbed and murdered
to pure delight and ecstacy thriving
under and over you because I can never keep still
I'll catch every last drop in my mouth
my pretty little face of vulgarity
waiting to be nourished because I feed
on the life of you and that which you can create with
I love the taste of your fucking release


(2 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

Saturday, August 28th, 2004
4:26 pm

Why take so much care undressing me?
Garments would slip off my shoulders
As easily as your name would off my lips.

It figures,
You wanted this movement adagio.

When I am as smooth hipped as a cello,
you can't help but have your hands touch me more than mine and
the hollows my body will resonate with chords I can't name and
my spine…

Is a string,

A note,

Play tremolo,


You could never mistake these moans for melancholy
Just as I could never be a cello.

You rather me played horizontal.



(5 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

Saturday, May 29th, 2004
8:54 pm
these fantasies come more often now
brush the back of my neck
turn my head to look off into space
study the patterns on my wall paper

fantasies of laughing in his arms
looking up into his face
pressing my smile to his neck

fantasies of the quiet moments
silence and stars
his warmth behind me
intertwined fingers

he changes in my mind
becomes a man familiar with the female body
eager to relearn its contours
never a hesitation

"god, you are soaked
you are going to freeze.
here, hold still"

as he slowly peels off my shirt

its been a night of running through sprinklers
and laughing
we are both rather wet

nothing gratuitous
careful fingers
touch only clothes
except for the occasional mistake
moment of fingertip against skin
and a shiver

i cant help a sad smile

(1 in the bed | the little one says. . .)

Monday, May 24th, 2004
3:03 pm
such sweet sound. play it again . . .
playing hearts
like fancy bow woman
strings vibrate
just the lightest touch
makes them sing

oh what cruel caress
plucking fingertips
just right
sweet serenade
notes honey dipped

and who cares
if the tunes conflict
if they are each other’s
I know each song
imprinted on my heart
just pick up the bow
look deep in his eyes
bestow the smallest grin
and play

(1 in the bed | the little one says. . .)

6:52 pm
i think she's a flower. the plush velvet softness of her skin, soiling under my touch.
she floats, atop the surface, dripping her fluids into the ocean.
perhaps she tastes like these flowers, like soap, bitter on my tongue as she melts away into my hot sticky flesh.
she is forever cool, a strange pallor of milky solute resting upon her skin. & i, myself would set her aflame, burning her to cinders with my fever stenched touch.
knowing that the flames of my lust would singe and smolder her raw, languid being, i pull her under and watch as her hair trails high above her, entering the deep secrecy of my world below.

she belongs here, her soft swelling lips cradling my warm tongue. her cold vacant stare and her aqueous secretions. she is smooth and luscious, her bittersweet liquor, the salt on my skin. as i dive, immersing myself between the supple curves of her thighs, the sweet plumpness of her lips, i thought i felt her combust. a sweet deathly nectar disperses around us. she pulls away from me as i watch her melt and dissolve into the distance.

she is a part of me now. pulsating deep within my veins. as i am a part of her, forever bound to the lava of her melting flesh, fused with the ocean tides that give me life.

(1 in the bed | the little one says. . .)

Friday, March 26th, 2004
4:39 pm
haiku 89
your kiss sizzles off
my lips in the swelter of
a closed house in spring

Current Mood: high

(1 in the bed | the little one says. . .)

Wednesday, March 17th, 2004
5:53 pm
new life
Hello. I'm Dawn, an artist of sorts, and I've looked over this community a couple times and I like it. I love the art of erotica and sensuality in art and writing. I'm still inexperienced yet (with writing and erotica, not life *wink*), so bear with me. But yea, here's a piece I wrote recently...

Just Talking
This ten years of conversation only tickles the depths of our wanting. I dream of your tongue rotating moonbeams on my thighs, our skin damp with the ecstacy of rhythm. I want to kick open the celestial doors to lovin and swallow you whole, gasps rippling from your mouth as you grip my cheeks. Our suspiring cries to be abolished, set aside, stomped down with the orbs of deep open dreams. Imagery swirls on echos in your head as you touch, while words bounce off my body... This ten years of conversation only barely tickles our fancy, and simply aggravates our raw, swollen longing. I want to swell in the moans of your fantasy.

Current Mood: horny

(2 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

Friday, March 5th, 2004
3:06 pm
Tears that sink like rocks
Crystalline tears stained red with blood,
Drop from her porcelain face onto razor blades below.
Elbows on the table, accompanied by a cigarette and a mug,
Her only 2 friends clutched in agony with a streaming face.
Somber black coffee, licking her lips every so often,
She prays to drown, every sip as her last.
Washing the taste down with a nicotine cloud,
Her lips kissed the filter like a lover.
Those lips, so mystic, I could live on them forever,
And all but worry why she taints them so.
I could dance in her mouth, Far better than the coffee ever could,
And seep into her lungs, tickling the walls, more than nicotine provides.
She’s drowning herself, but I’ll be there to save her.
She’s drowning herself.
And I’ll be here,

Current Mood: Coffee

(4 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

Sunday, February 29th, 2004
6:22 pm
Mary Delle
I am a tenant in this Quandary Quarry,
Dallying with and without you, Mary Delle.
Hubris jai alai defense severed this pool
From the antic, septic skepticism. Drench
Jarred for January, I saw you soak stories
With your thumb on paper asthma petals
That you hand-dried like Lotus Eaters
Pulled of poultry minds, of times like Gentry kissing
Beneath an amber ember, licking each
For conscious stamping, stampeding dryly
Toward your acquiescent miming, tinny
Over the fest of blanketed screams, envoys
Of Icarus acolytes on one collection, to find the
Gapes of the Quarry flounders, which entrance you,
Mary Delle, because answers chase questions
Two-faced upon the uniformity of single-sidedness.
So long the chase towards a Liberty oft dreamt
In a Quandary Quarry. When inquiries are fashioned
For us limely from above our stints, our pints of warrant
Flagellate and seethe with purring satisfaction.
While you and I, Mary Delle, we feign distraction
Because we understand the remnant after the cloth,
Gone to dry lint funerals. But we cannot cry, Mary Delle.
Seems we have chosen to tenant here. The puddles again
Threaten us with an arcane inundation, like
Egypt out of Africa before the gods were born.

(3 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

3:36 pm
Emotions Exposed…Now We Can See

I approach like a killer
I silently move…leaving no trace behind.
The sun is drowning in the sea…
Where the dead bodies sings the lullabies,
While we departure to a different night.
As I make myself closer to a tragedy
That repeats in my dreams…
And we try to unwind the barbwire
Wrapped around our hearts.
She lets out tears
As the fist goes through the mirror
Splinters flying in the air
Cutting up opening wounds
She doesn’t seem able to fight it
But she doesn’t seem to know to realize how beautiful she looks
If I only could convert myself into a liquid
That she could inject herself with…to be her cure
That breaks down the pain
And show her what she can’t see
Can I be your ecstasy?
The rapture that you could capture.
But she doesn’t know how much it hurts
Too see the sad look on her face.
We screamed to this night
Our hopes are that we’ll make it out alive…
Walk backwards
Retrace your tears
The eye shadow drips down
I engage myself to the honesty of my words
For her to believe or throw it back
But I hope she’ll catch it back in mid air
She looks quite from where she is laying
Involve some oxygen in that silent gesture
We lay on two different hospital beds
Her eyes are closed, as she stays damaged
Mine are half opened, as I stay broken
I push all my strength into my lips
To whisper words that she has trouble inhaling
Tenderly choking me
And I bite my lower lip
To come up with better words
To describe my emotions
The waves in the ocean are dancing
To the beat of our hearts
As our breathing collide.
Its bitter in my mind
When her past gets caught in the present
I wish I were stronger so I can toss
These sharp images out of my mind…
Now I’m a few footsteps away…
This note written with dead words and dry ink
On skin that reminds me of suicide
That’s been cut off with razorblades
Drawn and now erased.
The knife screams goodbye
As I stab myself
Letting out blood
My inside exposed to the world
Now you can see
That my words where real
So please paint yourself
With a smile that you put on my face…
Our youth will speak and explain
What went down that night…

(the little one says. . .)

Tuesday, December 30th, 2003
12:10 pm
No one else has seen these before
These are three poems about a girl I fell in lust with at a poetry reading...

You were standing behind
the wooden pillar
reading trite poems about unreciprocated
love, And I drank Haiku
tea – maybe the ginseng agitated
my delicates – please use Woolite,
when your ripples of red, red hair
wash my sandy shores and a sigh
from your dainty mouth ripples
my grass - and I knew
I must see you again.

You stood at the podium
I watched your lips open
your chest swell
a curl slip from your shoulder
connected by a spider web
to the woodgrain sweep of your hair
You walked from the stage, from the room, into my head
my five year plan is whisked away with a swish of your hips.

You stand behind the thick block
Letting syllables dance off your cherry luscious lipstick pout
you smile
you know
you see our look and we are yours.

Current Mood: sick

(5 in the beds | the little one says. . .)

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