Poetry
The following are some poems written by me.
Tell me what you think by Emailing me.
Mirror, Mirror
My Dad
Fevers
We Had Sex
Masturbation is Better
The Color I Love
The Common Cold
Mirror, Mirror
There is a person,
He has a face,
He has a body,
All this we will trace.
Starting from the feet,
Onward to the knees,
All of this,
Even he can see.
A flexible torso,
Some muscles inside,
His frame is quite slender,
Not all that wide.
Cuts on his elbows,
Scars on his wrists,
Within them are stories,
That work with a twist.
Working on upwards,
Up to the head,
There's an awful lot,
That could be said.
Interestingly shaped,
Light on the tan,
Just a boy,
Becoming a man.
His eyes are narrow,
Green in color,
Just a gift,
Sent by his mother.
Behind them are secrets,
Visions and wonder,
Still probably cuter,
When he was younger.
Above them are eyebrows,
Black like the night,
They tend to angle,
When he is in fright.
Surrounding the cheeks,
Is his curvy plump nose,
Along with the sideburns,
He does not yet grow.
Bordering the bottom,
Is his dimple like chin,
That seems to grow wider,
Upon every grin.
His mouth right above it,
Lips thick and red,
There isn't a word,
This kid hasn't said.
Covering all,
Is a cap of brown hair,
Nothing to different,
No need to stare.
The last ten stanzas,
This person can't see,
Unless with reflections,
Cause this person is me.
My Dad
To name the one person,
Who taught me the most,
Has got to be easy,
It's not even close.
He is the one,
He showed me it all,
Although he is not,
That very tall.
His influences are many,
To many to name,
But yet we're alike,
We're almost the same.
Without him I wouldn't,
Be here or alive,
Yet I came to know him,
At the age of just five.
My mother kept me from him,
On him she closed the door,
So his only way to see me,
Was to go to court.
But when he gained rights,
I lived with him,
His name is not Johnny,
Benny, or Tim.
Do you know who he is?
Who I'm talking about?
If not just keep reading,
You'll figure it out.
This man disciplined me,
Taught me politeness,
Educated me,
And helped make me righteous.
All this I appreciate,
I can't thank him enough,
For making me smart,
And making me tough.
From him I learned of girls,
And why not to do drugs,
Even to this day,
I still give him hugs.
So who is this man,
Now that I've bragged,
Maybe you know him,
I call him my dad.
Fevers
Fevers are like computer viruses.
They're funny until you get one.
Fevers are like tripping.
Once it starts, it can't be stopped.
Fevers are like frogs.
Both start with "F" and both annoy the hell out of me.
Fevers are like great sex.
They can both only happen inside your head.
Fevers are like Cindy Crawford.
They are both hott.
Fevers are like scissors.
Wait, no they're not.
Fevers are like women.
After ten minutes you don't wanna deal with them anymore.
Fevers are like orgasms.
We know the exist when we feel them, but have you ever seen one?
We Had Sex
You touched my dick,
It felt so good,
You even stroked it,
And i got wood.
I don't recall,
Just what I said,
When you began,
To give me head.
You started sucking,
It made me nut,
You then surprised me,
And touched my butt.
I wondered why,
You squeezed that spot,
I once was hard,
But now I'm not.
So now it's my turn,
To give you pleasure,
I hope to find,
Your secret treasure.
Whether your clit,
Is wet or dry,
I'll make you moan,
I'll make you cry.
I'll do all that,
With just my finger,
So be prepared,
Here comes my weiner.
In it goes,
So great it feels,
We're making love,
That's true and real.
Masturbation is Better
I once had sex,
It wasn't great,
I'd much rather,
Masturbate,
So why two people,
Why not one,
You and one hand,
Is just as fun.
So don't have sex,
Just relax,
Get some porn,
And start to whack.
The Color I Love
Soon to come...
The Common Cold
Soon to come...