- Erotic Poetry
- Lucretia Bradshaw
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I smell the hum of a large—limbed eunuch
Biped robots and hip shuttlewise
Pungent gristle and Mexican mud
I smell ground cobweb
I smell the hum of a large—limbed eunuch
Biped robots and hip shuttlewise
Dotard dead as a dodo — spunk copiously
Moronic, cretinous ostriches and let fly to smother
I smell honky—tonk terrorists and ground cobweb
I smell the cavemen of the campsite and spewed out
Unload, copulate in nature’s garb
Procreate prodigiously for you and yours truly
We inseminate the sphere, we impregnate the robot
We propagate the banana republic, for the nonce, so to speak, sometimes
We don’t grope, we don’t rape optical device
Lucretia, my clone, keep one’s pecker up the Pope Joan as well as me
We twitch shooting, we twitch upwind
We twitch zestfully to tingle on behalf of Simon Pure
Such seeds I smell, well, they don’t breed with tears in one’s eyes
I don’t smell much whiff
I don’t squirm, I don’t writhe, I don’t wriggle
Ridiculousness, ridiculousness…
A lengthened dangler screwed by butler on the shoulders of bodyguard
A cartilaginous weathercock jacked up by cacoethes
Once a knoblollipop
Now it’s plugged in
We propagate the banana republic, for the nonce, so to speak, sometimes
We don’t grope, we don’t rape effing and ceeing
Lucretia Bradshaw, keep one’s pecker up the Pope Joan as well as me
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2012
- COMMENTS
Kobaabout 12 years agoWelcome back! I have missed your poetry, so steeped in logic and good sense. As usual, the imagery is beyond compare. I am especially fond of the way you use the senses to do that can't be done, like smelling visions or tasting sounds. Magnificent!
