In this night's heat -
when the old dick throbs -
I can think of none but you;
For your absence, sweet,
my delight it robs
And knows not just what to do.
I'm often annoyed -
'cause it never sleeps -
When I wish to read my book;
But Nature's deployed;
so it always weeps
When its eye, at me, does look.
Yes! It longs for the touch -
of your dear hand -
To massage, then unbend it;
So stiff, that much,
she makes it stand
That none but her can mend it.
So although you're gone
into you I thrust
For desire does come about;
You bade me on
to make you - just -
In the game of In & Out.
A creamy deed -
as my lust, it, spills -
To your honour have I now kissed;
A lake of seed
my belly button fills
Because - I've just frigged my wrist!
Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.
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