THE KINKY POET

Warming rays

The poet laying staring at the Sun, it's warming rays across his face, a Rose appears in his minds eye, his heart begins to race

For it's not a simple Rose, it's beauty's beyond compare, elegant, soft and glistening, a Rose that is so rare

Petals of the softest Velvet, so tender to the touch, it holds the sweetest nectar, the Bees want it so much

Deep hidden within its folds, lays the most delicate shapely bud, the colour of deepest Crimson, as dark as passions blood

This Rose came from a garden, once strangled up with weeds and vine, until the lonely poet found that Rose devine

He cut away the smothering weeds, he gave the Rose the room, so she could see the Sun again, he sat and watched her bloom

From a Rose struggling to grow, so thirsty for a drink, to a Rose of such beauty, one look would make you blink

Blink in pure disbelief, that a Rose could grow so fine, amazed how she fought her way, through her past weeds and their vine

He looks up into the sky, not a single cloud in view, he hopes the Rose in Sunshine, he hopes she's basking too

Hoping the Sun is warming her, he hopes she feels his love, pouring down like warming rays, just like the Sun above

Ron

Full bloom

There amongst the Brambles, thickets and the weeds, stands a lonely flower and of some care she really needs

Then along came a poet, wandering through  this garden land, he spied upon this stifled flower, he decided on a plan

He took a line of caring words, he cut through the weeds of hate, cleared away all the brambles, he knew it was his fate

To release the lonely flower, who was being strangled by her weeds, he gave to her loving water, on her thorns the droplets hung like beads

For she was no ordinary flower, for she was a type of special Rose, who once cleared of her weeds, beautiful petals she could show

Soft full and stunning, she began to grow and bloom, free from all brambles and the weeds that sealed her doom

So now the poet tends her, he nutures her with love, he treats her with compassion and there's sunshine up above

No dark clouds, or rainy days, he tries to keep a smile upon her face, so she can stay in full bloom, and grow with style and grace

Ron

Bedtime stories

Nighttime tales of fornication, full of desires, sex and lust, essential Bedtime reading, for me they are a must

Sexy Vampire stories, of sex amongst the graves, the Lord of darkness, and Virgins plus the lust for blood he craves

From just flirting in the office, to full sex on the tube, handcuffs and butt plugs, with loads of tubes of lube

Being held in a dungeon, used as a captive sexual slave, used at their disposal, to satisfy all they crave

The kinky and the rough stuff, sex with strangers they've just met, girls covered in cream and fruit and stranger things I bet

All these are written, these tales I've often read, from my muse and other poets, the nestle in my head

Late at night when I can't sleep, they help me pass the time, I mix them all together, then I write it down in rhyme

Ron

My drug of choice

You can keep your Cocaine, heroin and all the other shit, the only thing that works for me, is when I'm getting hit

Spanked hard, tied down, a total loss of all control, that is my drug of choice, the other stuff steals your soul

But the excitement of a thrashing, the pain running through my veins, gives me the buzz I need, as endorphins rush my brain

Mind goes off to ecstasy, my bodies not to far behind, I love it when she hurts me, kinky pain of the loving kind

A flogger or a paddle the weapon of pleasure is your choice, talk to me as I'm being punished, I love to hear your voice

Tell me I'm a bad boy, tell me how I've sinned today, let me feel your whip gnawing at flesh, as my back you start to flay

So give me a fix today, give me the drug of pain I need, don't stop when I scream, even if I beg and plead

I am a masochist, pain is my soul drug of choice, I beg you to hit me harder, can you hear the desperation my voice

Ron

A Muse, a Rose the same

From out of nowhere inspiration strikes deep inside my brain, it's all i seem to think about and now my lifes not quite the same

From a simple interaction, or something you have said, sparks off a poem, that grows inside my head

So with Quill in hand, from in my heart, my stanzas start to flow, I can see you in them but I need to let you know

But how can I be so very sure, so plain for you
to see, that you are my secret muse, it's you that inspires me

Can I put in a secret code, that only my muse would know, something only we have shared, a clue to her I'd throw

Maybe something I've read from her, some story, pic or rhyme, something she sent privately, a secret sent through time

So when she reads my poem, it would be as plain as a day, she would see herself clearly, for this I hope and pray

Without the world knowing, she's like is a stunning perfect Rose, whilst strugging in a garden of weeds, I still see her beauty grow

So my special secret muse, my rhyme is near an end, I hope it makes you smile as you read, my very special friend

Ron

Prey

I'll hunt you down tonight my love, I'm hungry for your skin, I want to bite and claw you, to take you for my sin

Pin you down with a my might, on your flesh I want to gnaw, to eat all your soft moist parts, right to your very core

I have such a hunger, I'm filled with passion and desire, just the mere thought of you, fills my heart with fire

A insatiable need to taste you, you're the only girl I need, I must have you to myself, on your body I must feed

Head buried between your legs, my tongue lapping at your clit, probing deep within you, juices flowing from your slit

Claws pulling at your hips, to get my tongue in tight, they will leave some bruising at the end of this passions fight

Moving up your body, licking and biting on the way, going to your nipples, on your ample breasts I need to play

Sucking, licking, pulling your nipples stand so tall, I slide my cock inside you, its time a had it all

Your moist lips surround my cock, as I slide in slow and deep, already I'm covered in your love, as more juice you start to seep

You put up a little struggle, but its a Tiger 'v' a baby Goat, I simply extend my claws out and wrap them round your throat

I have submission with my dominance, I have you in my grasp, I decide when or if you breath or when to make you gasp

So let me have my way with you, admit you are my prey, let me fuck you in all your holes, your bodies mine today

Once I've had my fill of you, once my needs are fed, I will hold you lovingly, as we lay snuggled together our my bed

Then this animal becomes a man, then you are more than prey, you are the love of his life, for this was only play

Ron

Rubber, Latex, Leather or Lace

A million different materials, make you respond in different way, all designed to arouse you, when you are at play

Rubber stretched over nice and tight, can often restrict your breathing, depriving you of oxygen, the deprivation leaves you heaving

Latex is more forgiving, it gives you much more room so you can move, it is so often nice and shiny, it feels so soft and smooth

It makes such kinky outfits, it often comes Black or Red, I guess its all down to the choice of the partner, you've laying in your bed

Leather seems more hardcore, it makes awesome restraints and leads, if you get hit by a Leather flogger hard, it can often make you bleed

Harnesses, whips and collars, some smooth but some are often rough, the feeling of it across their skin, many kinksters cant get enough

Then comes my favourite material, I simply adore a girl in Lace, to run my hands across them in it, brings a smile across my face

So delicate and pretty, it enhances every inch of her skin, though its soft and subtle, it also screams of sex and sin

Everybody has their kink, the materials that turn them on, now you know my favourite, its always Lace for Ron

Ron

When you least expect it

Where does a muse come from, heaven only knows, they sort of creeps up on you, slowly their inspiration grows

You start to write poetry, and when you read it back again, there's glimpses of someone you know, that's been hidden in your brain

It might be of how they look, their lips, their smile, their eyes, it might describe their kindness, but it has come as a surprise

You may not have realised, how much of a impression they made on you, but now they're in your poetry and you're thinking of them too

So a muse can be anyone, they can inspire you from anywhere, but once you know you have one, it's nice to know they're there

Do you keep it to yourself, just write poetry inspired from afar, because surely you can't tell them, or a friendship you could mar

Its like you want them know, you're inspired by who they are, but you don't want to loose them, so you best pay homage from afar

But deep down you kinda hope, when the reading time to time, they can see, some parts of them, lovingly hidden in my rhyme

Ron

Am I Sapiosexual

Am I Sapiosexual because I get aroused by brain power, a turn of phrase, a simple line, flirting by the hour

Even when it's done tongue in cheek, the words play on my mind, both funny or extremly sexual,  i love the flirty kind

With the right choice of words, you can paint pictures in their head, give them the arousal they want, whilst their laying in there bed

Coax them to get quite horny, or take them all the way, choose your words correctly, if you want help them play

I love playing mind games, to do battle with your brain, trying to out wit each other, in a sexual game

See who can get the other one, to their point of no return, get them so excited, only for you they will yearn

Together but miles a part, fucking from our beds, both are Sapiosexual, both fucking with our heads

Ron

The simplest of things

You may see somethings everyday, then one day they're in a different light, it maybe a person or something you see, on your phone at night

You may may have seen a hundred white cotton shirts walking passed each day, then a girl might wear one on a bed and it makes you want her straight away

You may see the same persons smile, when you get your Coffee everyday, then one morning they look different, when they smile different way

A touch as someone passes you your change, it can be the briefest of exchange but today there's a tingle, a feeling that's quite strange

Watching a stranger eat ice cream, as she licks her moist lips clean, you wish that her cone was your cock, you sit, you watch, you dream

The most simple of things are sexy, I guess its on your point of view, you may not think you're beautiful but hey that's not up to you

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder or at least that's what they say, let me tell you right now, what I think without no jest or play

Beauty isn't about how anyone looks, it starts within your heart, it's what makes a person truly beautiful and has done from the start

So whether it might be a simple smile, or a crisp white cotton shirt, someone will find you sexy, so don't forget to flirt

Ron

Must confess I do love a girl in a white cotton shirt...just saying