Erotic Poetry Hub / Erotic Poetry / Egress and Ingress and Other Poems

Egress and Ingress and Other Poems

by Cal Y. Pygia 02/05/09

EGRESS AND INGRESS

Skewered anuses
Are not abused
According to the views
Of law and politics,
For, whether a woman or a man,
An "individual" has the right
To take a cock up his-or-her ass,
To become a receptacle
Of lust or love
Without procreative value
Or intent, sodomy being
A God-given right
As precious as the fruit of the womb;
It's a topsy-turvy world
In which there is no difference
Between a cunt and an ass
Or egress and ingress.

NEEDY BOWELS

Whenever I want to love a woman,
I think of her breasts, their areolas
And nipples, and of her clit and cunt,
Of her buttocks, anus, and ass,
But, then, the image of a man's thick,
Long, hard dick and small balls,
Risen high in tightened his scrotum,
Makes me want to forego propriety
And decorum, assume the position,
On my elbows and knees, thighs well spread,
And take his virile member deep
Between my shemale cheeks,
All the way in, to the deepest depths
Of my barren, needy bowels.

ON THE RECEIVING END

When I am penetrated by you
I am entered, invaded, occupied,
You a familiar, yet alien, presence
Inside me, hard and thick with intent
And long with resolve,
Impaling me, assailing me, pummeling me
With your firm, stout masculinity,
Shoving the power, the force, and the strength
Of you into me, into my deepest depths,
Again and again and again, demonstrating
your superiority and your mastery of me.
That's what it feels like on the receiving end
Of the swollen, rigid length of you.

FRUCTIFICATION

Sex focuses;
it is violence
deferred; sex
is assault
justified
and permitted,
even justifiable
and permissible
morally, because
it erupts
in semen
that fructifies,
except, of course,
when it involves
shemales
instead of
females; then,
it is sex just for
the sake of sex;
whether such fun
is justifiable
and permissible
depends not on
biology, but
politics and law,

IMAGINARY LIPS

My pink lips
Shine and glow;
They offer smiles
As bright as butterflies,
And, stretched,
Resemble kites on high,
Or butterflies
With wings outspread,
Or the blossoming
Of a rose--oh!
Perhaps you thought
I meant the lips
Between my chin
And nose;
No! I mean my other
Lips, the ones "down there,"
In Nether Netherland,
Which open into paradise
Or nirvana, depending on
Your preference--
But they are imaginary,
Anyway, for "down there,"
In front, I really have
A cock and balls,
Like men; my ladyboy
Pussy's is in the back,
And parking is in the rear.

NECROPHILIA'S DELUSION

My breasts grieve;
Their nipples pout;
And their areolas mourn;
My anus sulks;
My buttocks mope;
Only my shemale cock
Stands tall, erect
With the confidence
Of insensitivity
And ignorance,
Now that the love of my life
Lies motionless and dead.

THE BELLE OF THE BALLS

Last night, in the living room,
On a plastic shower curtain,
Surrounded by naked men,
I knelt, my face upturned,
Naked like my betters,
Taking upon my chin--
And lips and cheeks and nose
And brow, and in my eyes
And hair, volley after volley,
Jet after jet, spurt after spurt
Of the thick, warm white semen
That burst, again and again,
From the balls of the men,
Who loved themselves
And me better and better
The wetter I became,
Until my hair and face and neck
And breasts and belly,
Like my thighs and arms,
My cock and balls, were coated
And layered and caked
With dribbling cum,
And I shone with the luster
Of pearls, ornamented with the seed
Of sundry men,
Black and white,
Yellow and brown,
The belle of their balls.

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