- Erotic Poetry
- Four Feet Beneath Her Garden
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She don’t love me in the morning
but the night before
She either loved me then
or she’s a first class whore
But I’ll take it all
and whatever you can bet
She comes and says she loves me
I say then don’t forget
Recall these words that we said
tomorrow morning
but it seems to slip away
every time without a warning
When her clock says it’s a
quarter to five
I gotta leave fast
if I want to stay alive
Some rules are solid but some can drift
Her husband’s at the mill on the graveyard shift
She fucks me like a pony on a merry-go-round
Hubby comes home early I’ll be underground
Alabaster lamp and I fell down hard
felt a thud it was wet sprawled out in the mud
So even now when hubby can’t get a hard-on
She comes to say she love me four feet beneath her garden
- COMMENTS
JodieTodayabout 2 months agoAuthorHoly Cow!!!
I think you just figured out half of my two part Gemini self exactly as far as how I am wired.
I am not kidding either...
The other half of me is striving to improve my soul day by day (NOT "Religion" either) while striving to broaden my "awake" bar-chart day by day. Head on a swivel sort of thing. Crazy times and this is a good outlet (being creative) here.
That there is a "they" trying to stifle us (or worse) is lost on so many. Even looking at current (shit, past couple decades at least) of reducing the arts and literature in the public trough of mass consumption.
Thanks for the comment.
