Fantasy Escaping

In bed, at night, I lie awake and try to visualize
you with that look of longing lust
that look that says I must
that smoulders then combusts
and blazes in your eyes
those dark desiring
so inspiring,
hot and hungry eyes

Hands moving freely unconstrained by any credo
answering only to their hungry lord's libido.
Finger tips they’re placing tracing lightly on his breast
they're seeking satisfaction for his sexual request
they're trying hard without success
to raise those raptured ripples
which arouse him
when your licking lips lock onto captured nipples

I'm striving to imagine that these roaming hands are yours
summoning a vision of you kneeling on all fours
in the tub, squatting over me with soft and soapy paws
up against the kitchen wall with tantalizing claws
sitting room sofa bed or boarded bedroom floors
laid across your grand piano carpeted in scores
all behind the privacy of locked and darkened doors
or lying in the dunes on some deserted sandy shores
lips and thrusting tongues which lunge from longing lusting jaws

His swelling gonads fattening and full of lively spores
responding true and faithfully to nature's ancient laws

God damn,
so many rhyming gang galores
he’s gasping now with silly little
giggles and guffaws
he’s laughing tears,
he’s drowning in his very own applause
he’d better pause ………
one two,
before he tries to find a line
that rhymes
with something like macaaws

I could you know.

Listen to my voice now, I'm whispering your name
my stiffened penis begging to be let in on the game
imagining your parted legs and lack of any shame
licking the inside of you, but isn't it a shame
that as hard as I try to come and try again in vein
I feel like I'm an actor of some cinematic fame
who's recent film has flopped because he lacks himself a dame
his audience are growing bored with each and every frame
for they cannot find the romance in a fire without a flame

It's you he wants, his penis knows it, now it's gone all lame
and furthermore he could have sworn he just heard it exclaim
that these fingers which belong to him are really far too tame
and that substituting you with him wont ever be the same.

Three hours and a tank full of juice
is all it need take
for the fox to get his goose

Untie me from this noose.
What use is all this self abuse
let me loose
see me seeking to seduce
nature's own imperative
it wants to reproduce

The clock strikes midnight one and two, I can’t sleep
I'm sick of this insomnia and tired of counting sheep.

The motorbike stands idle and is waiting in the drive
if I set off straight away then I could get to you by five

Three hours and a tank full of juice
Is all it need take
for the fox to get his goose

No man, you can't be serious, you jest,
I suggest
you settle down and try to get yourself some rest
you're getting stressed
a man obsessed
a sex mad nymphomaniac resisting house arrest

but, nope that's it, the rebel in me doth protest
I’m on a pleasure quest, I want the best,
I’m getting up, I’m out of here,
I’m out of bed and dressed

It's the middle of the night and the road to yours is clear
I'm full of fuel and coming to surprise you my dear
no traffic, no fear,
I'm cruising now in fifth gear
a steady steer
I'm on my way
the city lights are drawing near

You know it not, but pretty soon, he’ll whisper in your ear
hey baby, turn over, let me do it from the rear.

Three hours and a tank full of juice
Is all it need take
for the fox to get his goose

I'm there now, I'm parking in your street,
I’m stepping to the rhythm of my own heart beat.
Listen to it palpitating takka dakka dur
ticking and anticipating, purr baby purr

Your body lying naked now is ready and awaiting.
Surprise surprise!!, unscheduled dating.
You and he will soon be on the jolly job and mating
arms legs hips and arses franticly gyrating

Three hours and a tank full of juice
Here comes freddy fox, yo
watch out mother goose

I'm in your house on tiptoes and creeping up the stairs
exhausted from a lack of sleep but f**k it, who cares
for there across the threshold lies the answer to my prayers
for what I have in mind is really best performed in pairs.
So no more masturbation, no more solitaire
from now on it's a game for two participating players
and isn't there a motto that the winner's he who dares
and anyway in actual fact there's nothing that compares
to the what is his and what his hers becoming what is theirs
and loving being distributed in fair and equal shares

Three hours and a tank full of juice
Here comes freddy fox, yo
watch out mother goose

I creep in silently not violently and take a little peep
and there you are in silhouette you're lying fast asleep.

Careful not to wake you from your silent repose
concentrating quietly on removing my clothes
I strip my body bare from its torso to its toes
arranging all my garments in chaotic little rows
listening to your breathing as it rises, ebbs and flows
kneeling at your bedside now I'm watching as you doze
here I am, but still it's only me alone who knows.

Gently now I stroke your hair,
breath in the air
through my super sensual nose
like a honey bee attracted to a flowering rose

Filling each lung with your sweet and fragrant scent
he’s getting fully hung with his own excitement

Pulling back the quilted covers
strip the sack for distant lovers

Placing naked knees on either side of your hips
mouth placed expectantly above your lips

You stir, still asleep and yet nearly half awake,
I wait and watch you lie there unaware of your fate

You're dreaming now, you're dreaming there’s an angel in your room
a spirit’s shimmied in on a shiny new moon
but break it down, drop a beat its now a different tune
so be careful when you wake up not to faint away and swoon
it’s your lover just escaped from his matrimonial tomb

I hear you gently sigh and softly murmur my name
knowing nothing of the fact that I actually came.

Open your eyes my love, surprise!! surprise!!
You dreamt you won the lottery well here comes the prize

You see me in the fading dark that comes before the dawn
when stars prepare to loose their spark but day is not yet born

I see your eyelids flicker and your body has just stirred
I press a finger to your lips then I whisper, not a word,
for I’ve read it in the stars that a miracle's occurred
they say that time is in abeyance and reality is blurred.

Yet in this magic moment betwixt dreaming and awaking
there's a flicker of awareness that your eyes are not mistaking
that it is me in the flesh, not an apparition faking.
Yes my lover, this is me, it is my fantasy escaping
broken free of all restraint and now ready for the taking

So hit the brushes paint the town
drop the horn and break it down
your love has come, to claim his crown
he pulls you up you pull him down

We feel the urge
our bodies merge
an overwhelming sexual surge
the deed is done
the battle’s won
and we become one.

We come one.

Strong imagery, to the point I could almost taste the scent of sex in the air.
But I didn't care for the way the metre seemed to be so forced.
But as to the vividness of description and construct of the content,
very well done.
Very well done indeed.


Until...

Thank you stranger.

I have to come to my own defense on your comment about the metre being forced. Maybe it was the way you read it. As far as I'm concerned the thing flows with rhythm. Can you give me an example of where you feel the metre is forced?

It's funny how poetry is such a personal thing. I have never properly studied it as an art. That gives me the advantage of not being influenced by anyone else, and the possible disadvantage of not knowing all the rules. It's a bit like paintings. I know what I like. When I write I do it intuitively. However, I do have to sit and think about this sh*t. It doesn't just flow off the page without a certain amount of contriving and forcing. One important thing I like in poetry is metre, rhythm, flow, call it what you will. For me it has to be easy to read, and once I've read it, I like to know what the poet was on about. I also like trying to apply the discipline of rhyme. I just love the way in which so often, in contriving or forcing a rhyme, something of wit and humour is found. I find so much of what I read is too serious. So I like it when I can make myself laugh. I don't know how other people write poems. It would interest me to know. What I usually do is write what I mean to say. Then I edit it into a kind of prose which flows, and then, I edit it again for rhyme. Occasionally, I feel that in the end I am just the tool, and that the finished article is something already written by a higher literary power. Have you ever felt that?

Mmmm maybe I'm flattering myself here.

Maybe the metre could be a problem to some, but I've just read it in Imperial units and it was fine. Better than fine. But I've just read it out aloud and maybe that allows you to change the rhythm to suit the changing metre. Enjoyed it very much anyway.

Thanks hey.

I'm not yet satisfied that this poem has received quite the acclaim I was hoping for. Well hey ho hey. Eh? Aye? Maybe it's not as good as I thought.