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Poems On / About SEX  10/1/2014 3:17:13 PM
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Best Poems About / On SEX
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Sex, sex, slimy sex,
Dripping on the floor
Move in with your boyfriend
Call yourself a whore.

Bills, bills, fluttering bills,
Payment seems so forced
Call up Johnny Lawyer
Get yourself divorced.

Work, work, lady work,
Kow you won't be rich
Lash out at your auntie,
Dub yourself a _____.

Look, look, lady look,
Meet a boy named Sid
Lay around ____ around
Have yourself a kid.

Grow, grow, kiddie grow,
Mommy taught you well
Meet a boy screw a boy
Send yourself to hell.

Blood, blood, bloody blood,
Slither down the bed
Lose yourself, sell yourself,
Siddy killed you dead.

Sex, sex, slimy sex,
Dripping on the floor
Move in with your boyfriend
Call yourself a whore.
Leon Agnew

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Do You?

She writes of
Sex, do you?

He talks of sex
Do you?

They dream of
Sex, do you?

I want some
Sex, do you?

She writes
He talks…
They dream
I want -
Yet we all
‘Abhor' sex.



Which means
You like sex ;)

Don't you? !
Aparna Chatterjee

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Sex is an excellent syllable, which
detonates meaning and is fillable
with much connotation. Of course
it conjures a deed done and conjugal
entanglements of bodies, when love
or lust gets down to earthy business,
when desire fires itself up and down
and on (and out of) the town. Sex
is also an implied question on a form

that may be answered M or F,
even if you’re in a mood to
answer Yes or No or Maybe So,
or 'I'll get back to you later' or
'What about it? 'Sex is not solely
one thing or two but more
than a few and human, too.

Sex at times is a semiotic nexus
(how sexual that sounds!) suggesting
bawdy, haughty, naughty, hottie
bodies, which touch and much more
in sex’s neck of the woulds and coulds,
the musts and lusts. Sometimes sex is
subtly intimated simply by the two-letter
syllable, it, as in getting it on, doing it,
making it, and even, alas, faking it. Oh

yes, there’s that other effing eff-word,
the one that rhymes with truck
and gets so often stuck in awkward syntactical
positions. Sex is life in frenzied love
with itself, all lips and hips, rounds
and flats, sultry strategies and tender
tactics, loads of lust and convoys
of cupidity, sensual consensual
congress. Sex can cause stupidity—
would you agree? —and vice versa.
Sex is a state of union, an exhilarating
expiration, a getting up, a getting with
it, a going down, a fear and fondness
of flying, a finding out and a knowing
about. It has been known to be
a bit of a chore, an occasional bore.
It’s mysterious and base, crude and holy,
much cause for consternation,
controversy, rules, and fools. Sex
is something else again. And again.
Hans Ostrom

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A Dog Named Sex

My pooch is not named Rover, Fluffy, Spot or Rex.
I wanted something different, so I named my puppy, Sex.
To renew my doggie’s license. I went down to City Hall.
“I’d like a license for Sex”, I said. He said, “Wouldn’t we all? ”
“You must not have understood, I need it for my mutt.”
“I really don’t care how she looks, if she’s ugly, fine or what.”
“But Sir, I must tell you, I’ve had Sex since I was four! ”
“You are no more than a braggart”, and he showed me out the door.
Newly married, we brought our pet along for the honeymoon.
I told the clerk, “A place for us and for Sex, a special room.”
“Every room has a place for sex. Every room has a bed.”
“But Sex keeps me up at night.” “It keeps me up, too”, he said.
At our divorce the court gave all my possessions to the wife
I protested, “Please Your Honor, I had Sex before my married life! ”
The judge then said that he did, too. “It’s not a real big crime.”
“But Sir, before we tied the knot, I had Sex all the time”
The judge said that I could still have sex, so I took my hound and ran.
My wife then said that she’d miss Sex, so I stayed a married man.
Last night Sex ran off again as we walked around the block.
A cop pulled up and asked me if I knew it was three o’clock.
I told him that I was looking for Sex and he took me straight to jail.
Now I’m waiting for my trial to come and can’t get out on bail.
…..if I ever get another dog,
I think I’ll name him…..”Whoopie” or “Boom-Boom”
Anything but Sex!
Carl Palmer

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Poems On / About SEX