Except you sliding inside me
And really,
is it any wonder?
© Marjorie Razorblade 2007
Comments: Childless Sunday couples: DFS, The Telegraph, almost-but-not-quite-matching
ski-jackets and Timberland Boots, visiting the in laws with flowers to make that 'first good impression'(the rest of the time
they can whistle, but this comes much later) roast dinner at the pub- (matching food) glass of white wine probably, home,
he watches football, she makes tea and feigns interest in the offside rule, bed, read, do crossword, lights out, go in different
directions to work, repeat, end, start all over again. Ooh cynical.
My perfect Sunday: Wake up with someone wonderful
sleep all day in between other things, which needs little imagination to visualize. What the fuck are Sundays for? Getting
on your knees in one way or another I say.
Strumpet Call
(This is rude- I hope you're sitting comfortably )
By the way this is all made up off the cuff stuff
– it’s coming straight out my mouth in real time-comments and edits included, sometimes poetry isn’t worth
thinking about, its just worth venting- remember this is the Red Room and anything goes- wooee this is going to be messy,
I can just feel it…….you ready?
Strumpet
Call
“Call of the Strumpet “
The Call of the Strumpet heralds the new whore!
Its seems a lot louder than it once did before
No sex for one year and now I want more
Watch out…I’m coming
Don’t answer your door
Instead of a no make up a bare mouth I paint my lips red
My ideal day (with you)? consists of
much lying in bed
Its chuffing exciting as waist down I’m not dead!
Should I masturbate more often (?)
Or take cold showers instead?
Lock up your husbands, beloved first born
Uncles and Brothers all give me the horn
Should I be good? I really am torn…
But then fuck it why should I?
She says looking at Porn…
(Ha this is great fun)
The Strumpet Call re-stimulates my sexual wit
I’m grateful for smut and an arse that won’t quit
It’s a sexual rebirth from a dried up old twit
A pompous old cunt and poetry full of shit
(nice.Well done Marj)
The need for the call is probably superfluous (oh, fabulous word.)
I Should be more tactful and considerably virtuous
Yeah right that’s all pointless!
I don’t giggle and laugh
We’ll fuck in the shower
And then fuck in the bath
Fuck in the kitchen and shag in the hall
Fuck up the sofa and fuck up the hall
And if your no good I’ll tell everyone
And then I’ll add in the comments: He took (took/ takes?- doesn’t matter it’s all bad news
either way) it up the bum
I’m kidding babydoll don’t get all arsey!
I wouldn’t be so wicked
I’m just too classy
(Stop laughing at that last line.)
heheh. My God that’s so tacky
(tacky…)? No don’t use that word- it’s…it’s…it’s
well, ‘tacky’
This is straight off the cuff
I’m not thinking what I’m writing
I’m typing with my muff (arg god I hate that word its so 1987. .It rhymes woman use it.)
Owee that’s just icky
I’ve lost the CTRL ALT Delete
The space bar is all sticky (class)
Yes lets make chit chat
“ Hmm yes the weather was nice”
Less chat more fuckey
And take my advice
If you can come once sugar tits/dollface/babydoll (insert any cack-handed nickname for something
sexual here)
You can always come twice
Hahahah fuck me sideways I’m
such a strumpet
(continue)
It’s a good job I’m brainy as well as some crumpet
Don’t take this too literally I’m not blowing my trumpet
Just polishing my bugle while trying to hump it.
(heheheh heheh hee hee heh falls off chair laughing my arse off- yes I know only an idiot laughs at themselves, its
amusing is all- stop reading the comments and read the bloody poem before I forget what I was doing….ah yes…Call
of the Strumpet.. 3, 2, 1… you’re back in the room)
Wooee baby The Strumpet Call beckons
Go as long as you like I can come in three seconds
“She won’t put out mate” Well that’s what he reckons
But he should have tried a bit harder
And pushed harder and grew a cock and used it
If it was here now I would fucking abuse it
(with scissors heheh cackle cackle)
But the Call of the Strumpet knows no human bounds
But I’m not gagging for action with just anyone or doing the rounds
I’m brimming with slutdom and what’s more of a curse
Is it’s waiting for you (nice turn around to the last stanza)
To pull out of reverse
The Call of the Strumpet alive I suppose
It’s a side of my personality
that no-body knows (italic for understatement
of the century)
And no-one can tell when I’m wearing my clothes
That its not just something
In your trousers that grows
Its lust
But also its Love…
Tied up with feeling
And heartfelt gestures in filthy yet unalterable, dynamic prose….
© Marjorie Razorblade 26/3/07
Comments:
Well...what can I say? My fingers ache, my brain is all out of smut. Time to call it a day when the last lines turn into something
else. Love is always on my mind, occasionally smut creeps in and keeps me on my toes but Love always seeps back, usually at
the ending of a poem. It’s a permanent fixture, no amount of smut can keep Love at bay forever. I’m more for Love
than lust any day- hence I always give it a capital ‘L’, call me
old fashioned (yes, do call me old fashioned while I’m wearing a corset and holding a whip Sir I dare you).
Anyway I hope you enjoyed that. I
know I did. I’m drinking coffee and having a cigarette. It was that good for me.
Off the cuff stuff is alarming at
times- depends what mood you’re in, today was ‘one of those days’ when I’ve been thinking a lot, not
sleeping much and wishing I could be repeating something which made my heart and my head spin.
I’m going to stop talking now…it’s
seeping back again. Again like any other poem- no editing allowed- it’s the law of the land… and I’ve got
more Love brimming up inside of me. than you could ever understand……………….