Wednesday 28 December 2011

Velvet Tongue poems

Here are a few samples of poems with a Velvet Tongue connection: poems performed at the event that contain the phrase "Velvet Tongue" or were written for or about or debuted at or adapted for London's Erotic Literary Soiree.

Scroll down to read: a limerick by the host and promoter of the event, Ernesto Sarezale; a poem by Open Minds ("Velvet Tongue"); two poems by Cathy Flower (“Velvet Tongue” and “Velvet Tongue: Sequel”); a poem by Gabriel Moreno ("Fuck me")a poem by Pat Cash ("Gay Sex"); a poem by Al Cowie (“How to make love”); a limerick by Graham Buchan on the topic of fisting (dedicated to the host of Velvet Tongue); a limerick by Chris Young (who was scheduled to perform in August 2011 but could not make it in the end); "Painful Questions", a sadomasochistic trilogy by Andy V. Frost; a haiku by Gideon K ("Sex Haiku #11"); a poem by Jazzman John Clarke ("Chinese Vampire"); Amy Neilson Smith ("Shoreditch Tsunami"); Tom Bland ("velvet kink"); Nixy Regan ("Velvet tongue")More to come in the near future (hopefully).

Copyright remains with the authors of the poems.

by Ernesto Sarezale

I sip honey to warm up my tongue.
I use plenty because he’s well hung.
He pulls back the helmet,
it feels just like velvet,
but his dickhead just stinks like old dung.


Velvet Tongue
by Open Mind (2013)

Velvet not as rich as silk
But more, or so more sensually smooth Wrap your warmth around me I don't want anyone to intrude
The feel of your softness against my flesh The feel of your warmth, I am at a lost for breath
I want to know your Velvet tongue I want to experience that language of your erotic love Be it rough or be it smooth Let me be laid down and wrapped within you I wanna be Naked bare open and true Let me Open my Mind for you.
You showed me how…you showed me truth With the exploration of Your Velvet Tongue I am no longer a prude
We can be friend, homosexual or straight Velvet Tongue is a welcome gate….


Velvet Tongue
by Cathy Flower

Oh velvet tongue don’t ever leave me
Your velvet ribbon on my skin
Does such tanta-lizing things
Oops-ay… I spilt my…  coff-ay
My wee favourite ever so small espresso cup
blooms a floral Cezanne mixture on the side…
Tipped it over next to me
Too close it was
Whilst you were stroking my… … …
With (pause)
Your (pause)
Velvet (pause)
Tongue! (pause)
(mellow-ecstasy) Don’t stop (pause)
(mellow-ecstasy) Don’t stop (pause)
(mood change: domineering) I will evict you
if you cease.
Your velvet tongue (pause)
is (pause)
your lease.

Velvet Tongue: Sequel
by Cathy Flower

Cast me your tongue
I know you don’t have to move
I know you don’t have to budge
I sit - I wait - my legs - a part

They call you Guinness don’t they?
Coz your tongue so long and strong

I sit here, you sit there
You don’t even need to leave your chair
I can lie and wait, in any old gate
You can always feel and find your bait

Soft cloth lies beneath me
A blend of pink red silk and cashmere I see before me
Silver rimmed, touch kissing floor
I capture your tongue so soft, so long
What precise, distinct direction
Ding… Dong…

I am wide
I am a ballerina flexible to your velvet tongue intentions
Hear my song
You cross the room

Your tongue is a levitating snake
Elongating from the genesis – your mouth.
Your face - I love to gaze on
As you interrogate my area that wants your
(pause) soft point
Tip - of your competent tongue
Carefully caressing the orchid
Delicate, insisting, dominating, shy   

You are my (pause) recovery
Until (long pause) the day I die.

Fuck Me
by Gabriel Moreno

Fuck me, fuck me like a tamp hammer.
Fuck me like a steam roller, tread on me.
Flatten my insides, exorcise my concerns.
Fuck me, peel the skin of my stagnation.
Fuck me, fuck me like a sledge hammer, 
open me from the inside, 
slice the bread of my thinking, 
shatter the porcelain of my self.
Fuck the poet out of me. Fuck me. 
Reverse me like a kitchen glove. 
Fuck me. Turn me 
into howls and sweat.
Fuck me into wholeness.
Fuck me into the night. 
Fuck me into Dissolution. 
Fuck me. 
Leave nothing but an empty shelf.
Fuck me for the pain and for the boredom.
Fuck me for 20 years of doubt and procrastination.
Fuck me for the broken stool and the hollow egg. 
Fuck me, shatter the insides of my chest.
Fuck me. 
Watch my heart shrink like a desiccated grape.
Fuck me, like no other, fuck me.
Be the one to fuck me. 
Yes, fuck me from the core,
Fuck me with olive branches. 
Fuck me with Your cosmic knife.
Fuck me like a nuclear bomb.
Fuck me with your mind.
Fuck me like a lawnmower.
Fuck me into grass.
Fuck me in a barren field,
turn my masks against me.
Fuck me madly.
Fuck my eyes balls into clarity.
Fuck me into The orange sun. 
Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. 
Fuck me into laughter, 
fuck me into fire, 
bend me like a fishing rod,
sink your limbs inside me, 
save me from my petulance and hate, fuck me till my fears bleed.
Fuck me till my liver aches. 
Fuck me with your psyche, fuck me hard, 
Summon the milk of my creations.
Fuck me, fuck me, O please just fuck me


Gay Sex
by Pat Cash

Let's talk about gay sex baby
Let's crow about its beauty daily
Place away your shades of shame
And trace in me a sacred flame
Lend me your lips, boy
And of your muscled hips
I will speak and enjoy
Give me the words
Of your body's supple burn
And into silver zodiacs
I will write the codes
My desire in you has cracked
Of naked bodies and buttocks
And cocks and jockstraps
My tongue between your shoulderblades
Tattooes them with my name
That I will dare to speak
And dare to speak again
Down into the dip of your back
My mouth will murmur rapt
Then I let my whispers lick
First one gluteus muscle 
Before on to its perfect brother
Hear my hands
Onto your flesh slap
And the parting of your pretty ass
To reveal your winking, pink anus
In the hush of my first kiss
The sensation's racing 
Spiralling up your spinal cord
Exploding into your loosened brain
Uttered as a gasp and a word
That was there from the beginning:

And I say, 'yes...'

I'm not talking about gay sex
To shock or cause stress
I'm talking about it
Because no one else is
Alan Carr isn't, Graham Norton isn't
Paul O'Grady isn't,
Even Tom Daley isn't
Our gay comedians
Are asexual chameleons
It's all hidden in euphemism
The knowing aside, 
The sideshow wink
Don't worry, you're safe
No sex, please
We're gay and on TV

And I've heard my straight mates say
'I don't mind it happening
As long as I don't hear about it'
Well, here, now, it's happening
And it's hard and it's fast and it's dirty
And it's racing
A gasp and a whimper
And the sound of flesh whacking flesh
Of my penis inside him
It's sweat dripping from one man to another
And a soaring, writhing ecstasy of kissing
It's in your face, it's in your head
It's in the space
Where angels fear to tread

Because my sex is part of my identity
My sex makes me and shapes me
And I am not going to stop it and lock it
And shut it up
Not for you and not for me
My sex is laced with shame
My sex is the wrong sex
My sex historically was illegal
My sex instils fear
It's parks after dark
And it's public toilets
And it's AIDS
Like David Stuart said
When your parents think of sex
They see your sister married
You and your boyfriend
It's shit on dicks
My sex is a sin without name

And try telling this 
To the two 20-year-old boys
I interviewed last week
Who both have HIV
Because they're not told
About gay sex in schools
And they're not told
About transmission
And the condom, they are told
Is there to stop pregnancy

But lastly my sex is my gift
To be shared safely
With the rising sensation
Of move and thrust and kiss
My sex lives in excited eyes
It whispers between fingers
In the light laugh of touch
A tantalising tease
It's an intricacy of intimacy
His lips tickling at my neck
And his heart beating in my arms
My sex is in his smile
It's in his pleasure
And what we share together
My sex speaks now and always will
Of the word we all call love


How to make love
by Al Cowie

Close your eyes and just imagine for a moment you are working
You are sitting at your desk, and you’re staring at your screen
But your body feels frisky, slightly sweaty and it’s irking
She controls you, she’s demanding; and so begins the dream.
I’m not beneath your desk or waiting in the ladies,
But you smell my breath and sense me that I watch your every move.
And you walk past a dark alley, like the gateway into Hades,
And your body pulls you in as if you’re falling off a roof.

‘Cos she know what she is doing, and she knows that I am waiting
 And the danger of my strength, pushing you against the wall,
For I will go to any length, from kidnapping through to dating
Just to have you in my grasp and do things to you that will appal…
I grip your hair, you sigh profoundly, you feel your neck hairs tingle,
From head to toe to inner thigh, all your senses seem to burst
You hear my scent, you taste my touch as all the feelings mingle
Excitement makes your mouth go dry; you know I’ll quench your thirst.

I kiss your ear so gently, you feel your body tremble,
Nipples hardening at my every touch, I start tugging at your shirt,
You want my body very much, the volcano begins to rumble,
You want my lava rippling, pressing you against the dirt.
I tear the shirt, I rip it, the buttons come off, popping,
I kiss your chest, I sip it, I breath in your sex and scent,
I caress your belly to me and at once there is no stopping
My gnashing teeth gripping your belt as my passion I give vent.

Your wrists behind your back and your trousers off instantly,
I tie you with your clothing, the breeze puffs against your skin,
The smell of excitement in the air, ignites desire, you want me
As you stand restrained and bare, before my rising sharklike fin.
The enormity of that moment must wait until I’m ready,
But first I send my head down, chin brushing on your mound,
My fingers touch your wetness, your fragrance is so heady,
It drives me to a frenzy, touch, lick, kiss with hungry sound…

Your body now imagines with her wild imaginations
That I am an infant, slurping ice-cream from a cone,
But my delvings are more visceral, wild, unbridled, I’ve no patience,
Tongue scoops, curls, moves as mastiff, munching marrow out of bone.
With a groan you thrust your hips up, downy pubes, combed by my stubble,
Fragrant juices from the cup run, prepping for our final merger;
Then I pull back oh so slightly, and it makes you want me double,
And you grip my ears more tightly, pressing waves compel and urge her.

So with one hand on your belly and another on your coccyx
I squeeze, caress and hold you, like a limpet on your soul,
And I measure as a barman measures pleasures into optics
To explode so deep inside you it’s like dynamiting coal…
And the coal builds to a furnace with the thrusting of my shovel,
Boiling water driving pistons of a roaring screaming train,
Climbing high above the Andes on a bridge that spans forever,
While Heaven’s every star is shooting, popping brain cells in your brain!

And your body’s now convulsing and your train is now exhausted
Twitching, shuddering and pulsing, a sweating devastated wreck,
Fulfilled and filled with liquid pleasure, sucked inside you as I thrusted,
Two million tiny passengers embark upon a trek.
They fill every nook and cranny in their drive to get you swelling,
Satisfied knowing your fanny is the vessel for my seed
And soon everyone will know that my baby is now dwelling
In your belly as it grows. That is how you do the deed.

If you’ve never had conclusion by a boyfriend or a lover
That can be described as fusion in the manner I’ve expressed,
Then you’ve never had a lover, just a pusher and a shover,
Ignorant of his confusion, a mere infant at your breast.
In effect you’re still a virgin and no wonder do you wonder
What it’s like to feel the real thing; not a sapling but a tree;
Not a cabin boy but captain, a true pirate after plunder,
Whose bold arrogance expresses “what you really want is Me”


There was a young man called Ernist
by Graham Buchan

There was a young man called Ernist
who did amusing things with his fist.
Well I won't succumb
to a hand up my bum...
but ask me again when I'm pissed.


by Chris Young

No, I can't say that thrill struck me dumb
Or that nerves set up spasms in my bum.
I'd perform, and I'd wow,
If my means would allow,
But this evening I just couldn't come.


Painful Questions
A sadomasochistic trilogy by Andy V. Frost
(under revision) 

I want to beat a tattoo tattoo,
You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours,
And your arms and your legs and your breasts and your cunt,
Perhaps a Nettle massage,
Or a bath of wax,
Cleaning the hair from your pubis with twisting tweezers.
Now, would you like Deep Heat on that sore?
No? perhaps I should smear on some more.

When does the play stop,
The pain go beyond?
What drives you to go deeper?
What compels you to be here at all,
As my slave,
My victim,
My plaything?
Why do I want to hurt,
Stim you in places that on me can't be reached?
How far do I have to go,
Before you'll utter your safeword,
And not want to return,
To re-enact these scenes of pleasure through screams?
Will I ever receive an answer,
Or do you intend to die as you have lived?

Why do I torture myself with these worries?
I'm playing this game by your rules,
Fulfilling your wants,
your needs,
I may hold the whip and the key to your bonds,
But I'm no monster,
Not a real sadist.

I may have fun but my doubts grate,
As deep as the weals on the backs of your thighs,
I wince every time I place a new mark on your skin,
Find myself jealous of your submissiveness,
Your sated inherent wish.
The atomic agony of your zenith.

I don't want it to be like this,
I want to lay down the tools,
Set you free,
Take your place,
Beg for mercy yet hope for none,
I've had enough,
I can't resist,
Please help me to explore my own masochist.


Sex Haiku #11
by Gideon K

You are such a tease
My skin cries out for more of
Your slick velvet tongue


by Jazzman John Clarke

We were sat around the night campfire
When in she came this voluptuous Chinese Vampire
Wearing a flesh-eating diaphanous intoxicating kimono
No she wasn't Japanese and didn't in any way shape or form
resemble Yoko Ono
She was statuesque with a pair of delicious thighs
rippled with blue-veined alabaster
I wanted to be the victim as she laughed then cackled
like a lascivious erotically-charged slave master
I knew if I shacked up with her it would prove to be
nothing short of a libidinous disaster
But I had to crack on & make my move
She had gigantic breasts that ballooned out of her flimsy bodice
With eyes that were curious yet flashed off & on like greased lightning
Her whole teasing aura & superior dominant sense of presence
was deathly powerfully frighteningly excitedly alluring
Now these days I'm not one to fool about or stupidly scream & shout
But I'm so on the verge of creaming myself right now
I'd like to fuck her senseless forever inside out
Even when I see those razor-sharp talons dripping crimson blood
And those freaky fangs that tilt & never seem to end
I still want to take her roughly & swiftly from behind
And shove & bury my wicked wand deep deep up inside
Until I come thru the very roof of her mouth
She may be a vampire yet I'm madly insanely attracted to her
As if she's an enormous knockout piece of impish crazy dishy
squidgy samphire
Most of all I crave to squirt a perfect smutty pearl necklace
Around her Chinese Vampire smooth porcelain neck
Before she bites my fucking balls off!
And every time she mouths: "Ah so!" I know she really means 'arsehole'
Then when she has me secure in her evil clutches I can teach her
How vampiric rhymes so well & easily with throbbing bulging prick
And obviously it goes without saying that she's absolutely
mouthwateringly pussylicious.
(c) JOHN  CLARKE  7 MARCH 2014

Shoreditch Tsunami
by Amy Neilson Smith

for Ernesto Sarezale 

Dirty words wandered
into dirty ears,
as the Velvet Tongue

licked another Monday night;
punters eroticised
between crimson curtains

cobwebbed with words,
which echoed the crack
of whips over backs,

raw talent seeping 
through weeping pores,
air dense with whispers

of wet lips between legs,
pressing on minds
a gas chamber of pleasure,

kicked into a tiny 
Shoreditch pocket;
the pressure too much

a pipe cracked,
sewage crawling 
under curling toes.

Poets fought – stemmed
the rising tide of filth,
shit seeping through walls;

think God heard your sins, 
sent a second flood – a tsunami
sent to turn your verses into sludge,

poets to be punished.
You won’t be bumped 
by filth, you are the filth;
the rodents who can write.
Your quills dipped in spunk!       


velvet kink
by Tom Bland

you said this was about sweat
i asked if you meant intensity
you said one bottle of wine would do

red was best
red almost rhymed with dead
but the night was young

my fingernails scratched your arm
crisscrossing marks
a whole bottle of red

almost anything right now
rhymed with dead

your arms were stretched to the ceiling
a nice bit of cabling
like you didn’t know this feeling
you naked my belt tightening
around your neck

you looked at me calmly
and said
‘i really might be the one in control

was that pic of your penis really what it seemed?
open to suggestion you can’t escape
my cunt’

my hand pulled harder on the belt
my prick against between your buttocks
you gasping but for what?

i bit your neck
too nervous but wanting blood
bittersweet against my teeth

your thighs
pushing back against me

it was i who couldn’t breathe
i pushed in underneath

you on tiptoes
my knees slightly bent

the belt gripped tight
my body acidic your sweat dripping down

your forehead
your armpits
your inner thighs

i couldn’t breathe but i had to
no longer my mind
no longer my will

annihilation if
i left you hanging
but i was already inside

(originally published in: Blue of Noon)


Velvet tongue 
by Nixy Regan

Sweet, hot, liquid at the back of my throat, awakening senses I haven’t been aware of in a very long time. 

The thrust of the large thick cock banging my uvula with drip drip dripping down my throat. 

A hand grabbing my head as the cock drives deeper playing my tongue like a piano. 

On my knees, laying down, against the wall even upside down. 

Smashing my mouth in with a forceful hammer, the loud screams from your mouth sending tingles across my spine. 

After minutes of pushing, spitting, foaming and gagging the explosion of cum fills my mouth like a black currant soother curing my sickness. 


1 comment:

  1. Lovely writings. How can I know about future dates of such an event? I would be interested and have a lot of erotic poetry to share. (If I dare) lol