I meet you by the door
and pin you ‘gainst the wall.
And when you can’t take any more
I drag you down the hall.
I tease you out of every thread
until your flesh is bare
and lay you down upon the bed,
atop a halo of your hair.
I discard my clothes
and draw up to your side
and watch the blushing rose
that you shyly try to hide.
And, at last, we begin
our long-awaited night of sin.
I can taste the fire
on your lips as they entice
me to ascend even higher –
lightning just struck twice.
Each moment is so nice
but it’s getting rather dire
and I could use a little ice.
However, I will never tire
of your rich and fragrant spice.
You’re my guiding, stalwart spire;
lightning just struck twice.
There’s a restlessness inside of me,
a swirling, passionate symphony,
demanding an expression
bordering on obsession,
a storm hurling me out to sea.
I see your sweet wet lips
and watch you open them with sighs
before I get down on my knees
and drink nectar from your thighs.
Pull at me;
down into your arms,
my will’s lost to your charms;
pants scattered ‘round the room.
I want your sex; I
need to feel life and passion and
your voice is the only one that reaches the
depths of my self, beckons my fire,
and wholly seduces me with promises of
delights and sultry, sweaty nights.
I feel that deep desire;
need to quench that fire;
more, it’s yet to peak;
sleep is for the weak.
Do you have music in your veins,
that pulse of fire deep inside –
the kind you look for in soft refrains?
You pull it out with such sweet strains
of fingertips that grip and glide.
Do you have music in your veins?
Brought to life with such pains
you can hear in each note the pride,
the kind you look for in soft refrains.
Falling as gently as the rain
and rocking as hard as the tide.
Do you have music in your veins?
You refine it until all that remains
is a phantasmagoric, sensual ride,
the kind you look for in soft refrains.
That kind of passion never wanes
and takes the long years all in stride.
Do you have music in your veins,
the kind you look for in soft refrains?
– Dedicated to Toubab Krewe, without whom this poem would not exist.
A (wise) man of two faces 