THE KINKY POET

Broken

My mind is so active, I write poems all the time, tales of sex, love and bondage but sadly they're not mine

Of making love for hour's with a manhood hard and strong the way my life used to be, before my spine went wrong

When I was fully functional, when I was fully in my prime, I look back and sigh now, that was such a better time

I could do anything with you, play sex games in my bed, now they are just fantasies or dreams made in my head

So now I'm left with just my hands and a wicked tongue, slide yourself across my face, I'm sure I'd make you cum

But I hope when you read my poetry, you might get moist and wet, being the broken poet, it's the closest I will get

Laying so far away from you, though I'm hiding deep inside your head, trying to arouse you, whilst you read in bed

Poetry designed to make you moist, make you wiggle in your chair, so you think of me though you know I'm just not there

Though my bodies broken, my heart and mind is strong, soon I'll send more sexy poetry, to help your day along

THE KINKY POET 

Wading through the thorns

Legs scratched and battered, the poet wades throughout the thorns, looking for his special Rose, he's down and all Forlorn

Thorns biting at his skin, blood runs down his leg, from other Roses grabbing at him, for his attention they all beg

He pushes his way through them, none of them compare, to the Rose he is looking for, but where she is he knows not where

Looking high and stooping low, he longs to find his Rose, has she been plucked by another poet, only heaven knows

Has he come to late, has the  poet Knight lost the chance for love, he hangs his head in disappointment, he wipes his eyes with a tear stained glove

He continues trudging forward, his heart for sure was broke, then in whisper from a distance, through the wind he heard her spoke

Following her on the wind, to a clearing he arrived, there stood his perfect Rose, she could see that he had cried

With the softest of petals, she wiped away his tears, he swore he'd never leave her side, they'd be together years and years

Then his eyes opened, they blood was from many battles fought, he was alone again, muddy and distraught

He was dreaming of his Rose again, she is the Sunlight in his day, soon he hopes to find her, with her he wants to stay

But there are many battles to be won, before the poet Knight is free, he battles from his crippled bed because the poet Knight is me

THE KINKY POET 

The clit Imp

When your sleeping late at night, he appears at the bottom of your bed, lifting up your duvet, the clit Imp wants to be fed

Creeping under cover, he starts by kissing on your toe, he doesn't want to wake you yet, so ever gently he must go

His forked tongue flicks as he moves up to your sexy calf, he kisses and he nibbles at you, in your sleep you sort of laugh

He knows you are stirring, in some sex dream you feel him there, he moves further up your leg, if you wake now he don't care

Nibbling at your inner leg, you slowly open up your thighs, you are being tongued whilst in your sleep, he loves to hear you sigh

At last he's found what he was looking for, your pussy's come in view, he gently parts your petals, his tongue knows what to do

Licking, flicking pulling, his forked tongue lashes at your clit, you stir and put your hand down, you start playing with your slit

His tongue entwined with your fingers, still half asleep you start to play, you begin to get yourself turned on, what a way to start your day

One hand on your moist pussy, the other stroking at your ample tits, nipples getting harder, warm juice running from your slit

Faster forever faster, deep inside your fingers do their work, you begin to moan and groan, as your body starts to shudder and to jerk

Orgasm washes over you, but what of the clit Imp inside your bed, he's job done now over, he's back tucked inside your head

He was just there to warm you up, to excite you in your dream, to get you wet and ready, to make you want to cream

So until you need him next time, the clit Imp has simply gone, he knows he'll get called on upon real soon, he knows it won't be long

THE KINKY POET 

The toy

Its late at night you're all alone, I need comes to your mind, it isn't for sweets or chocolate, its of a sexual kind

You first try to ignore it, its late and time to go to sleep, but it quietly gnaws at you, you feel this need so deep

There's only one thing for it, only one thing you can do, reaching for your toy box that's always close to you

Out comes the toy you love, he never fails to hit the spot, he's big, sleek and sexy, you use him quite a lot

You love to hear his dulcet tones, as he starts to throb and hum, you get him wet with your spit, by now you want to cum

Running him across your mouth, you give him a sensual lick, you plunge him deep inside yourself, your favourite rubber dick

Gliding him back and forth, your hips move keeping perfect time, he is your favourite go to toy, you think he is devine

Reaching all the spots you need, with speeds from one to ten, guaranteed to make you cum real hard, then he'll make you cum again

He loves you undeniably, he comes with no baggage or mans needs, you can put him away after, to treat just as you please

Hell he is better than any man, he's always ready for a fuck, no chatting or dating bullshit, you can't believe your luck

Constantly hard and ready no need to put on make up or go change, he only need fresh batteries, in minutes they are changed

So sorry boys you're out of luck, you'll never replace her favourite toy, alwsys so dependable, he is her only boy

THE KINKY POET 

Uniforms

Knee socks, a tartan skirt, a blouse of see through White, pink frilly panties its, school girl fun tonight

Dressed as Princess leia dressed up as Jabbas slave, that sexy gold bikini look, is a desire that i crave

Maybe a police officer, babe you can take me off to jail, if you're wearing sexy stockings, I'll follow without fail

Maybe dressed up as a very sexy nurse, flashing sexy undies beneath her dress, a glimpses of her lacey undies, they simply are the best

Or a sexy fire woman, with a helmet and her hose, where my love of outfits comes, only heaven knows

Maybe as a French maid, pretty in Back with white lace, bending over with no panties as you dust about the place

Even dressed as her Highness, a Queen upon her throne, so regal and sexy, I want her pictures on my phone

I just love to play dress up, I guess outfits turn me on, so go off to your wardrobe babe, hurry put one on

Visuals are my favourite thing, I love it when you dress up to play, you just pick the time and place, I'll be there that day

THE KINKY POET 

Turning tables

Yes your Royal Highness, you normally have all the powers, tonight's it will be different, for at least a couple of hours

I'm going to tie you up and have my wicked way with you, you'll be restrained real tight, they'll be nothing your Highness can do

Arms tied high above your royal crown , regal legs spread and tied, allowing me full access, so on this night I will decide

I'll choose the play toys we'll use, I'll pick out the my favourite plug, one that's not so big, it won't fit you nice and snug

Toys from your own collection, the ones you use when you're in charge, a hundred different dildos, ranging from quite small to large

Her Highness will have no control, I bet just the thought would make her twitch, from Dominant to Submissive, this is the time to switch

The poet as your Dom master, but only in his words of rhyme, her Highness as his own Submissive but only in dream time

THE KINKY POET 

Dedicated to a friend who picked me up when I was broken. I wanted to share this with you all. As a thank you for the kindness you've shown this broken poet

Stepping off the ledge

When the Sunrises on my face, it's like the warming of her smile, clouds evaporate away, my day becomes worthwhile

The rain that fell like teardrops, dry up from deep within, i feel a new surge of positivity, let the day begin

Pains seem to lesson, hurt fades like some long lost dreams, you give me strength to carry on, at least that's how it seems

You give me faith, that alls okay, that my life it ain't that bad, though even though I'm still paralyzed, I always feel less sad

Your kindness and compassion, fill my life with hope, you make me believe in myself, you've taught me how to cope

You make me feel like I'm worthwhile, l deserve my place on earth, thank you for the mirror, so I can see my worth

So once again you saved me, when I was wandering by the edge, looking at the oblivion of stepping off the ledge

But again you were there to hold my hand, to help me turn away, to dream of a better time, to face a brand new day

THE KINKY POET 

Voyeur on the phone

Late a night my phone pings, there's a message on my phone, it read make sure your light is out and you're on your own

Just sit quietly, watch but make not a single sound, watch me playing with myself, I want to fool around

Ping back if you agree, make sure it's dark and you are all alone, give me five minutes, then make sure you pick up when I phone

Laying in the dark alone my mind was racing, trying to guess what could happen next, all this excitement leading from a single text

Then my phone rang, you were laying on your king-size bed, surrounded by sex toys, you were dressed in a outfit made of lace in red

You put your finger to your lips, to show silence must be kept, its like I'm hiding in your bedroom, like inside your night I've crept

I can see you clearly, but to you I'm hiding in the dark, you can't see me watching as your hunger starts to spark

Slowly you stroke your tits, your hand slides under lace, your camera is on full zoom, it's like your tits are in my face

I watch your nipples harden, they react to your expert touch, I have to bite my bottom lip, I want to say so much

You pull the lingerie off your tits, with licked fingers you start to pull, I'm transfixed by your action, I swear I need to drool

Your hand goes much lower, you begin to stroke your moistened Rose, how I didn't scream for more, only heaven knows

I sat and watch your fingers, as they were pushed so deep inside, I could hear you moaning, I really loved it when you sighed

The you picked up your butt plug, I guess it's your favourite one, you coated in my your pussy's juice and slid it up your bum

Wow this was amazing, it was the greatest show, you then picked up a massive dildo, I knew where that had to go

I watched as you fucked yourself, the camera brought me in, a voyeur on the end of your bed, my eyes just filled with your sin

Watching you throw your head back, juices running wild and free, you've made me feel so special, with this show you've done for me

You shudder to your climax, you scream and call my name, you lay there still and silent, I wonder what could still remain

You sat up very slowly, you looked the camera squarely in the eye, you blew a kiss, and with a wink, I guess that was goodbye

Sitting here still in darkness, you're gone im all alone, blown away by your sex show, I was  the voyeur on the phone

THE KINKY POET 

Cookies

Knock, knocking at my door, I opened to find a woman selling cookies from a box, I must of looked stupid wearing just my shorts and socks

Would you buy some cookies, the sexy lady said to me, I replied you big for a girl scout, but you're cute so I'll take three

Oh said the lady Three boxes sir entitles you to a special, she smiled so seductively and said you also get a kiss

Before I could say anything, she was so close, her face almost touching mine, she looked so amazing and her perfume was devine

Her gentle lips stroked my cheek, my heart began to race, I so badly wanted that kiss on my lips and not just on my face

She could see disappointment written in my eyes, then she pulled me closer to her and imagine to my surprise

She kissed me fully on the mouth, her tongue entwined with mine, it was just a quick kiss, but it lasted for some time

Then she simply smiled at me, her words I'll always treasure, thank you for buying my cookies sir, your business has been a pleasure

With that she turned away, I said wait let me get some change, but she kept on walking and was soon right out of range

Standing in my hallway, with the Cookies that she made, feeling really guilty because, the lady wasn't paid

I made a cup of Coffee, I took a Cookie from out the box, i was eating it real slowly, then again there was a knock

I opened the door to find her there, she had a paper in her grasp, I paid for the Cookies as about the paper I don't ask

She took the change for the Cookies, gave me the paper that just read, call me on this number, I want to go to bed

So if a beautiful lady comes selling Cookies, turns up on your door, buy every box she has, you might end up with more

THE KINKY POET

Sex amongst the stanzas

Lust, want desire, these words can mean the same, passion, wrote in stanzas, sex with words my aim

To seduce the mind of the readers, to lead them down a sexual path, guide them into ecstasy, my words are like witchcraft

Plant a seed of desire, let it grow deep inside your mind, until you feel that yearning of most erotic, sexual kind

Make you feel that certain wiggle, whilst reading in your chair, there's a dampness in your panties, you can feel it there

You may even touch yourself, or go play with your favourite toy, whilst thinking of your lover, or even of this poet boy

Your hands touching every curve, directed by the rhyme, hands slid past pretty lace and in those moments you are mine

Seduced by this poets words, though I may not be in your bed, one thing is for certain, I'm there fucking in your head

You maybe on a crowded bus, with Friends on in your car, you are never out of reach, my stanzas travel far

My words are seductive, my word magic once it's cast, can take you anywhere I want to, I don't even have to ask

From bondage, to dress up, a million ways to make you cum, when it comes to help in "getting off", this poet is the one

So thank you for reading, for letting me inside your head, I'll do my best to seduce you, whilst laying in my bed

Making love to you with my words, in amongst the stanzas we have sex, I hope this left you saited, until you read me next

THE KINKY POET