Latest Forum Posts:


Agnostics and Dragonflies

Tags: erotica
I am but a poet,
castoff from society.
Condemned to shadowed halls,
and dark places of my mind.
Under the spell of insomnia
bequeath to me by clones.
Stirring the cauldron of agnostics
and dragonflies. 

Like white clouds by day,
they are gray by night.
Many walk in melancholy blues,
swallowed up by dead souls,
without an iota of true love,
or tranquility.

I prose what is sensual,
and pleasures of the flesh.
Tonic of the mind
and my aphrodisiac.
Precum my ink.
I scribe midnight fornication.

Lost in translation,
unbelievers are oblivious.
At play in their own shallow pond,
of limp cocks and persuasions.
Senseless to true erotica. 

Inebriated on swill of lust,
in my chamber of dust.
I am but mere mortal with thoughts,
composing like poets before me. 
Masturbating under the spell of insomnia,
bequeath to me by clones.
Stirring the cauldron of agnostics
and dragonflies.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

To link to this poem from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="">Agnostics and Dragonflies</a>

Comments (6)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.