Litkicks Message Board Archive

Ode To My Vagina In 4 Short Chapters

Posted to Poetry

**A few "colorful" description of natural female occurances, but nothing too deep or too dry. Cheers!

I. You exsist... a blossoming flower of potency and pleasure.
Kissable lips and a pulsing, hungry center of attention.
Power of my soul and light of my intention.
I admire you, dear valiant one.
Such agony and worthless shit I've put you through, such fury and hell you've suffered.
The 7-day horror we both dread... the evil facilitator of the nightmarish sex deprivation.
Oh how we loathe that vengeful bitch.
Horrid rolls, wadded paper with a sting,
Malibu barbie's summertime raft.
It seems to squish around when I walk, and shift and move and slip...
White's mortal enemy, and my wholesome dread.
II. And what of sex?
You condemn me, dear friend for some undeserved punishment.
After constant waves of some undescibed pleasure
Rolling slowly,
And then faster, and thicker, and deeper... more intense...
Months of that almost nonstop and then...
Like some damned to hell ancient melody sweetly playing it fades, and goes off.
It's been a week and yet you haven't turned the record on.
Been two more months without the record on.
Okay... been half a year without the record...
Fuck! 365 without the record on.
MURDER!!! She screamed as if she had been massacred...
I heard it in my mind.
She relayed the helpless cry.
Do not forget me, she said, fading with disuse and disconcern...
Burning with passion and lust for anything that walks with a swing between his legs.
You've got me going crazy with this craving.
"I Know".
But there's no way to remedy the trouble without some unwholesome comprimes, collected bullshit I have not the time for.
The sex stories and handsome men are all aoround us...
Oppurtunity is a much needed conquest.
Let's explore!
III. In some cold room with florescent lights
Feet, toes on steel stirrups and...
Cringing at the feel of some strange being,shoving two gloved fingers up to feel for bumps.
The mascara wand made of some cold, hard, metal that they twist inside me...
What unbearable hell...
All this...
And I can't even get laid!
IIII. Oh dear beautiful definitoin of my stable womanhood,
What holy orfice art thu?
What secrets do you possess, what stories have you to tell?
What can I find out from you?
Of the most peculiar construction; I have come to know and love the joy you bring to me...
As you have very few others.
I can't help but wonder how we lived before, without the sweet satisfaction of orgasmic conquer...
And it beats hellfire out of me how we live now.
There you have been, some precious secret for me all these years,
Ever-patient nderstanding...
If you could speak, what words would you say?
What praise curse sonnet song-scream would you release?
Would you still love me?
Would I still love you?
Would you detach from me and find another home or stop working in the midlle of an intimate game.
What would you do?
I love you, oh royal core of my being,
In dryness, and in wet
In tampon and in pad...
In every endeavor,
You are me...