Sexual Poetry by B M Bradley

Brian M. Bradley is a heavily tattooed forty-two year old recovering addict living and working in the LosAngeles area for lack of a better idea. His hobbies and interest includemotorcycles and writing. Brian's work as writer is greatly influenced by twenty-five years of active drug addiction and petty crime. Such experience has given Brian his own unique voice and point of view as a writer. Brian has just completed his first novel and is hard at work on his next project. Brian writes poetry in his spare time.

"I too play my games. I count the dials, the levers,
the buttons, the knobs of my kingdom."

COCKSUCKERS

"spit that gum out, I want you
to think about me"

she told me
she sucked her
thumb
as a child,

her
mom said

"look stupid with a thumb
in your mouth"

what would
mommy say now-



OLD DAYS

I saw your
old boyfriend the other day

the one you said
you loved so much
that you would
eat his shit

we hugged and
talked about the old days
about his new truck, work
and music

we didn't mention you



THREE WAY SPLIT

I got something

she got something

the rubber
got filled with spunk
then dumped in the
trash

used up
but not empty



TALK TALK

"men like to fuck me because I get really wet
and use my muscles,
but I only give head to boys,
I don't want my labia to turn purple
when I get older."

"my pussy looks like a young girls
because I wont let these men
fuck on me any old way
they want to."

"fuck me from the back and I'll think of the nastiest
stuff but you better make sure
I cum."

"my boyfriend has a small penis and doesn't like
to kiss me, but
he lets me sit in his lap, naked
when he shits."

"I got little tits with big nipples
and a fat pussy, but It makes me happy."

"my boyfriend ties me up and pretends he's
Clark Gable or John Wayne when he fucks me."

"you got a camera?
you can tie me and we'll take some pictures."

"I got this little problem,
if you can't kiss me with any more passion than that,
go fuck yourself."

"forget the talk talk, baby......lets fuck."



SUDDEN

I walked by your home
just now
and was hit by a sudden brilliant flash,
as vivid and clear as
the point of light
from a Polaroid camera,
that leaves a red dot
in my eyes

as sudden as banging my toe
on the foot of the bed
in the middle of the night
leaving me to hop about
on one foot,
swearing
like a drunken sailor

of you clutching me,
your arms and legs wrapped tightly
around me,
panting
and chewing on my ear,
our clothing
having long been forgotten
to be replaced by a film of
delicious sweat
that sucks and pulls
as we are driven closer by
a timeless need
your nails clawing my back
to leave
long red furrows
of peeled flesh
as angry and deep
as your passion

as I pound away
with a furious insistence,
my only concern to be
if I can go the distance
or will I be forced to finish you off
with tongue and finger
after having missed my Que.
by excitement
and the eagerness to please

anyone watching might see
a missed step,
to be taken for a stumble,
by a preoccupied man

someone
with a lot on his mind
in a hurry
to be somewhere
else



DSB

the thing about
deadly sperm build up is
once you get that pesky sperm out
you can think clearly again


"hey look baby, I gotta' go"



HAND JIVE

some people think masturbation is a sin
like the Pope and other
informed sexual experts
or maybe just a moral
deficiency who knows for sure

a lot of men say
they don't have too masturbate
I don't either
I like too



DREAMING OF HONESTY

the very fact that
we stand here and talk,
closely, almost touching
when really I want to
lick the inside of your
thighs until
you quiver and moan
forcing you to lay
down upon the floor and pant
head thrown back
eyes shut tight
as a small puddle of
sweat gathers in
the hollow of your neck

tells me of the
need for simple honesty in art
when I am forced to live a lie
every single day of my life

this I dreamed
as I slept



HEALING

smooth warm skin,
creamy white
where not loved
by sun or wind
wrapped around long
strong arms and legs
that hold me tight

my tongue drags
across hard flat belly
lying in the hollow formed
by wide flared hips
above a smooth cleft
bared by shared shower
and Bic razor,
to leave fine black hair
clinging to porcelain
and tile
abandoned
by need

a cleft that reveals
a small pink bud
to be placed gently
between tongue
and teeth
held as
soft breaths of hot air
and warm wet saliva
bathe with delicate
sensation

very,
very slowly
giving and letting go
of bad dreams
and days wound to tight
by the mad insanity
of modern life
in an age old
healing wave
of time suspended
gathered
then wrapped
within
the bounds
of passion



TEMPEST

Winds of change
have gathered on the horizon
building up a cloud
mysteries.
to be explored

not black and boiling
filled with hate
power
or sudden death,
but
bilious white dreams

cotton candy
filled with rainbows
built from the memories
of our touch,
our heat

only thoughts
but filled
with sudden strong flashes
just the same
without warning I'm hit
(you sitting in my shower
with your long legs draw up
purring and giggling
wet hair dangling in a dark stream
to half hide
your sparkling eyes)

I'm hit again while going to work
(driving around in my car
you with your dress pulled up
and no panties on
telling me you don't care
who sees
me trying desperately
to stay on the road
and play
at the same time)

standing in line at the market
waiting for the cashier
looking at women
when I'm hit again
(in my bed, your chest
flat on the mattress.
your naked hips raised
me behind being guided
by your eager fingers
to hit just the right spot
slowly moving to your tempo
while taking my time
watching the pleasure's
swim lazily across your face
listening to your breath
sigh through taunt lips
your panting moans,
wondering what the neighbors think
and yet not caring
at the same time)

I'm caught in your tempest.