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Poems On / About SEX  10/25/2014 5:04:04 PM
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Best Poems About / On SEX
 
 
 
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  77.     

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.

Agree?
No?

Disagree?
Yes?

Which means
You like sex ;)

Don't you? !
 
Aparna Chatterjee

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  78.     

Let the music move you

Theses f***** up lyrics pour out of me
Telling past tales of love & lust
They could give a man a hard on
They say i am a freak some say i am unique
You say monster now lets see

Close your eyes & let the music move you
Don't be afraid it would all happened anyway
Man or girl all things aside, don't start to cry
Blood sex rock and roll
Blood sex rock and roll

I hear the drums of hell, they are like ecstacy
The make us dance together so sexually
Can't anyone else see
Whips and chains will never be the same


Close your eyes & let the music move you
Don't be afraid it would all happened anyway
Man or girl all things aside, don't start to cry
Blood sex rock and roll
Blood sex rock and roll

Don't it sound promising
So who is to blame
You know you like it anyway
You like it when I...

Close your eyes & let the music move you
Don't be afraid it would all happened anyway
Man or girl all things aside, don't start to cry
Blood sex rock and roll
Blood sex rock and roll

At the end of this song
My job should be done
Fresh and bone
Is all that should remain
Now lets start the game
 
Codykye Callaghan

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  79.     

Girl

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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  80.     

Sex

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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Poems On / About SEX