Exakta66's Poetry
RSVP EROTICA
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Sat, 22nd January, 2011
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The Letter
I poured out every thought upon the page,
Filling it up with all the rage and anger,
That you have instilled inside me.
My pen literally quivered,
As I held it in my sweaty hand,
Yet the words flowed swiftly,
As venomous as any snake,
And almost as deadly.
As I poured the last of the wine into my glass,
I reviewed my handiwork.
Three pages of anger.
Three pages of hurt.
An expression of all you’ve done to me,
As best as I possibly could.
I carefully folded the letter,
And stuffed it in the envelope.
And with quivering pen,
I wrote out your address.
It was late, and I’d post it in the morning.
I went off to bed that night.
The next day I spent quietly around the house.
It was cold outside,
And it was warm by the fire.
In the afternoon,
I opened another bottle of wine.
I sat pensively for some time,
Just watching the flames dance
Upon the logs in the fireplace.
Amidst the crackling of the timbers,
I picked up the envelope.
I stare down at your name upon it.
I take another sip of wine,
And remove the letter.
As I begin to read it again,
I am reminded of everything you’ve ever done.
All the hurt you’ve caused,
To myself and my family,
Comes back again over three pages.
My blood starts to boil again,
And my palms start to sweat.
There is a damp thumbprint on the page,
And the edges of the letter are damp and frayed,
From holding it tightly in my hands.
I lean back in my chair.
I know I am not ready to forgive.
I don’t know that I ever will be.
And God knows I will never forget.
In fact, I hope you rot in Hell,
And if I could deliver you there myself,
Lord knows, I would.
But, I can never stoop to your level.
I can never stoop to your level.
I sit for some time just watching the fire.
In a while, I pick up the letter,
And walk over to the fireplace.
I toss it upon the flames.
I sit back down and sip my wine.
And as I watch the letter burn,
The sparks cackling,
And the black soot fall upon the logs,
I know I can never stoop to your level,
But, there’s a part of me that says to myself,
“God, I wish that letter were you.”
11-07-11.
The Teacher
I want to teach my dog,
Some tricks that are new,
Like sit, fetch and heel,
As a dog’s expected to do.
But after many hours,
Things are not going good,
For despite all my efforts,
She won’t do as she should.
She can’t fetch to save her life,
And it’s just a little ball,
But instead of carrying it back,
She’ll just let it slip and fall.
My nerves are starting to fray,
It seems that I’ll never win,
Far from concerned with her failures,
She’ll just stand there and grin.
I’ll take her out for a walk,
Hoping by my side she’ll stay,
But she’d rather sniff the flowers,
That grow along the way.
And if I try to get her to sit,
And stay until I call,
Now she wants to play,
And go and fetch her ball.
As if having fun is more important,
Than doing what you should do,
Sometimes I have to wonder,
Who should be teaching who?
10-17-11b.
Relatives
At family gatherings throughout the year,
There are those who add to the holiday cheer,
Those who brighten up your day,
Every time they come your way.
Most are a pleasure to be around,
As fine as any friends I’ve found,
But, there are a few I’d like to lose,
If I could only pick and choose.
Some that are a pain in my rear end,
I’d like to delete like a Facebook friend,
Others who insist they are family,
But sure don’t look a thing like me.
Others who are annoying beyond belief,
Whose only purpose is to bring me grief,
They’ll have to get along on their own,
They are not going to get another loan.
The problem with relatives is understood,
You have to take the bad with the good.
Though some I wish would get lost at sea,
They probably think the same of me.
09-11-11.
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Don’t tell me that you need me,
And I’m the best you’ve found,
Because if you really needed me,
You at least would come around.
Don’t talk to me on the phone,
Saying words I want to hear,
And giving me more excuses,
Why you can’t be with me here.
Don’t tell me that you love me,
And how much you really care,
But when I really need you,
I can’t find you anywhere.
Actions speak louder than words,
And for all your fancy talk,
It just don’t mean a thing,
If you can’t walk the walk.
Because it’s not what you say,
As much as what you do,
And if you can’t understand that,
I’ll just find somebody new.
04-28-11
Steal This Poem
You probably were a bully,
Who never did well in school,
Stole other kid’s lunch money,
And thought it was really cool.
And now you’ve moved on,
To stealing other’s work and time,
All without a hint of remorse,
As if it’s not even a real crime.
I’d like to think people like you,
Deserve a special place in Hell,
For when you steal an author’s work,
You steal a piece of them as well.
So now I’m going to dare you,
To try and steal this poem,
Post it on another site,
And try to call it your own.
And if you think you can do it,
And never will get caught,
The only thing I can say to you,
Is you’re dumber than I thought.
Paris Will Never Be The Same
I returned to Paris as in days gone by,
Now that I’m here, I’m not sure why,
For the city that once felt like home,
Is a joyless place when you’re alone.
I can’t help but recall the older days,
Of sipping wine in corner cafes,
Romantic dinners by candle light,
That lasted well into the night.
The walks along the river Seine,
Huddled together against the rain,
Hand in hand we’d stroll the street,
Stealing kisses, so discrete.
Now as I walk along the avenue,
I think about the times with you,
But the city we both loved so dear,
Is a lonely place without you here.
And though I yearn for the times of old,
Now the city just seems so cold,
I made my return but I’m sorry I came,
For Paris will never be the same.
04-12-11.
Grandpa
An honest man who worked real hard,
And did his best throughout his life,
To clothe and feed his proud family,
His four children and his wife.
Born in the early twentieth century,
He knew that times were often tough,
But he always did whatever it took,
To ensure his family had enough.
A gentle man who spoke with kindness,
And ungraciousness was never heard,
Who still believed in God and family,
And knew the value of a man’s word.
Some would say he was old fashioned,
He rarely drank and did not smoke,
But he was always there to lend an ear,
And always the first to offer a joke.
A kinder, gentler, more honest man,
Could never be found anywhere,
And I know as sure as there’s a Heaven,
That you will find my Grandpa there.
03-17-11.
Happiness And Purpose
Is happiness something far out of reach?
Something for which we must strive.
Like some far off destination,
Where we hope someday to arrive.
Or is happiness just a commodity?
Something that can be bought,
Or is happiness something we all can learn?
Something that must be taught.
Is our happiness in short supply?
That may someday come to an end,
Or is there enough to go around?
That we can share it with a friend.
There are many things we’ll never know,
Like an envelope that’s always sealed,
And yet as we pass through life,
The answers are slowly revealed.
For we‘re all here for a reason,
As we pass from young to old,
And the longer that we live it,
The more answers will unfold.
And though we entered the world that way,
We were never meant to be alone,
And though we may often try,
We can’t do it all on our own.
For I believe happiness is our purpose,
And a purpose made to share,
To help make happy the ones we love,
And show them that we care.
And whatever our purpose in life may be,
And only time will truly tell,
My only hope is that I’ve served it,
And served my purpose well.
03-13-11.
The Clicking Tease Is On Her Knees
Written for erotic author ClickingkeysTease…
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
Getting it from behind,
So many guys just want their turn,
I know I wouldn’t mind.
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
And man can she suck cock,
Just the sight of her hot pictures,
Makes mine hard as a rock.
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
In so many a young man’s dreams,
As they exercise their right arms,
They’re imagining her screams.
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
And she does live up to her name,
So many young men just might go blind,
And she’ll be the one to blame.
But what those young men may never know,
Is Miss Clicking is more than just a tease,
Because with a hot body like hers,
The Tease was built to please.
02-13-11.
The Jerk at Work
My job I really don’t mind,
It’s the people and the work,
Especially the guy next to me,
Who personifies the word “jerk.”
I wish he would do something,
Anything to earn his pay,
Instead he just gets on my nerves,
And my nerves are starting to fray.
This jerk is looking for a better job,
And keeps asking me for advice,
Do I look like a Google search bar?
But instead I just try to be nice.
He actually asked me for a referral,
And I looked at him just fine,
I’d like to give him a referral alright,
To the unemployment line.
This moron better start to realize,
And I hope he does somehow,
That the next job he’ll be applying for,
May be the one he’s holding now.
2-04-11.
The Facebook Poem
I’d heard about social networking,
And how it was the next big thing,
So I just had to take a look,
And ended up on Facebook.
It only took me a little while,
To fill out most of my profile,
But I have spent many a night,
Figuring out the rest of the site.
I never realized I had so many friends,
The friend requests never ends,
All the people I can’t stand at work,
And now the biggest high school jerk.
I have to admit I’ve learned a bunch,
I know what all my friends eat for lunch,
And it really helps me that I know,
Everyone’s favorite TV show.
The work on Facebook never stops,
I have to water my imaginary crops,
Send get-well wishes to Farmville quick,
My friend’s imaginary cow got sick.
I now realize my chances are dire,
Of ever building a Mafia empire,
And perhaps it is a bit of a shame,
My It Girl will never go on to fame.
My kid’s statuses tell me of their life,
At dinner time I get poked by the wife,
I try to keep my friend count nice and fat,
So, I even signed up the dog and cat.
I guess you can say my life’s complete,
I have more friends than I’ll ever meet,
On Facebook I can roam far and wide,
And I never have to go outside.
02-19-11
When Friends Betray Friends
When friends betray friends,
With words less than kind,
It tears apart the friendship,
And all the ties that bind.
When friends betray friends,
It hurts you to the core.
All the trust and love,
It all goes out the door.
Like an ice cold sword,
That tears through your heart,
When friends betray friends,
It will tear your soul apart.
All the love and friendship,
Built up from the ground,
When friends betray friends,
It all comes crashing down.
And all that peace and harmony,
Built throughout the years,
When friends betray friends,
You’re left with only tears.
1-26-11.
My Love Did Sometimes Wander
My love did sometimes wander,
And my thoughts did often roam,
From the one who held them dear,
And gave my love a home.
But I was young and restless,
And my heart would want to play,
Never thinking of the one I’d hurt,
When my love would go astray.
They say if you play with fire,
You sometimes will get burned,
And though the lessons were often hard,
The lessons did get learned.
For I know my heart belongs right here,
With the one whose love is true,
And if my thoughts should wander again,
They will wander back to you.
1-20-11.
I poured out every thought upon the page,
Filling it up with all the rage and anger,
That you have instilled inside me.
My pen literally quivered,
As I held it in my sweaty hand,
Yet the words flowed swiftly,
As venomous as any snake,
And almost as deadly.
As I poured the last of the wine into my glass,
I reviewed my handiwork.
Three pages of anger.
Three pages of hurt.
An expression of all you’ve done to me,
As best as I possibly could.
I carefully folded the letter,
And stuffed it in the envelope.
And with quivering pen,
I wrote out your address.
It was late, and I’d post it in the morning.
I went off to bed that night.
The next day I spent quietly around the house.
It was cold outside,
And it was warm by the fire.
In the afternoon,
I opened another bottle of wine.
I sat pensively for some time,
Just watching the flames dance
Upon the logs in the fireplace.
Amidst the crackling of the timbers,
I picked up the envelope.
I stare down at your name upon it.
I take another sip of wine,
And remove the letter.
As I begin to read it again,
I am reminded of everything you’ve ever done.
All the hurt you’ve caused,
To myself and my family,
Comes back again over three pages.
My blood starts to boil again,
And my palms start to sweat.
There is a damp thumbprint on the page,
And the edges of the letter are damp and frayed,
From holding it tightly in my hands.
I lean back in my chair.
I know I am not ready to forgive.
I don’t know that I ever will be.
And God knows I will never forget.
In fact, I hope you rot in Hell,
And if I could deliver you there myself,
Lord knows, I would.
But, I can never stoop to your level.
I can never stoop to your level.
I sit for some time just watching the fire.
In a while, I pick up the letter,
And walk over to the fireplace.
I toss it upon the flames.
I sit back down and sip my wine.
And as I watch the letter burn,
The sparks cackling,
And the black soot fall upon the logs,
I know I can never stoop to your level,
But, there’s a part of me that says to myself,
“God, I wish that letter were you.”
11-07-11.
The Teacher
I want to teach my dog,
Some tricks that are new,
Like sit, fetch and heel,
As a dog’s expected to do.
But after many hours,
Things are not going good,
For despite all my efforts,
She won’t do as she should.
She can’t fetch to save her life,
And it’s just a little ball,
But instead of carrying it back,
She’ll just let it slip and fall.
My nerves are starting to fray,
It seems that I’ll never win,
Far from concerned with her failures,
She’ll just stand there and grin.
I’ll take her out for a walk,
Hoping by my side she’ll stay,
But she’d rather sniff the flowers,
That grow along the way.
And if I try to get her to sit,
And stay until I call,
Now she wants to play,
And go and fetch her ball.
As if having fun is more important,
Than doing what you should do,
Sometimes I have to wonder,
Who should be teaching who?
10-17-11b.
Relatives
At family gatherings throughout the year,
There are those who add to the holiday cheer,
Those who brighten up your day,
Every time they come your way.
Most are a pleasure to be around,
As fine as any friends I’ve found,
But, there are a few I’d like to lose,
If I could only pick and choose.
Some that are a pain in my rear end,
I’d like to delete like a Facebook friend,
Others who insist they are family,
But sure don’t look a thing like me.
Others who are annoying beyond belief,
Whose only purpose is to bring me grief,
They’ll have to get along on their own,
They are not going to get another loan.
The problem with relatives is understood,
You have to take the bad with the good.
Though some I wish would get lost at sea,
They probably think the same of me.
09-11-11.
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Don’t tell me that you need me,
And I’m the best you’ve found,
Because if you really needed me,
You at least would come around.
Don’t talk to me on the phone,
Saying words I want to hear,
And giving me more excuses,
Why you can’t be with me here.
Don’t tell me that you love me,
And how much you really care,
But when I really need you,
I can’t find you anywhere.
Actions speak louder than words,
And for all your fancy talk,
It just don’t mean a thing,
If you can’t walk the walk.
Because it’s not what you say,
As much as what you do,
And if you can’t understand that,
I’ll just find somebody new.
04-28-11
Steal This Poem
You probably were a bully,
Who never did well in school,
Stole other kid’s lunch money,
And thought it was really cool.
And now you’ve moved on,
To stealing other’s work and time,
All without a hint of remorse,
As if it’s not even a real crime.
I’d like to think people like you,
Deserve a special place in Hell,
For when you steal an author’s work,
You steal a piece of them as well.
So now I’m going to dare you,
To try and steal this poem,
Post it on another site,
And try to call it your own.
And if you think you can do it,
And never will get caught,
The only thing I can say to you,
Is you’re dumber than I thought.
Paris Will Never Be The Same
I returned to Paris as in days gone by,
Now that I’m here, I’m not sure why,
For the city that once felt like home,
Is a joyless place when you’re alone.
I can’t help but recall the older days,
Of sipping wine in corner cafes,
Romantic dinners by candle light,
That lasted well into the night.
The walks along the river Seine,
Huddled together against the rain,
Hand in hand we’d stroll the street,
Stealing kisses, so discrete.
Now as I walk along the avenue,
I think about the times with you,
But the city we both loved so dear,
Is a lonely place without you here.
And though I yearn for the times of old,
Now the city just seems so cold,
I made my return but I’m sorry I came,
For Paris will never be the same.
04-12-11.
Grandpa
An honest man who worked real hard,
And did his best throughout his life,
To clothe and feed his proud family,
His four children and his wife.
Born in the early twentieth century,
He knew that times were often tough,
But he always did whatever it took,
To ensure his family had enough.
A gentle man who spoke with kindness,
And ungraciousness was never heard,
Who still believed in God and family,
And knew the value of a man’s word.
Some would say he was old fashioned,
He rarely drank and did not smoke,
But he was always there to lend an ear,
And always the first to offer a joke.
A kinder, gentler, more honest man,
Could never be found anywhere,
And I know as sure as there’s a Heaven,
That you will find my Grandpa there.
03-17-11.
Happiness And Purpose
Is happiness something far out of reach?
Something for which we must strive.
Like some far off destination,
Where we hope someday to arrive.
Or is happiness just a commodity?
Something that can be bought,
Or is happiness something we all can learn?
Something that must be taught.
Is our happiness in short supply?
That may someday come to an end,
Or is there enough to go around?
That we can share it with a friend.
There are many things we’ll never know,
Like an envelope that’s always sealed,
And yet as we pass through life,
The answers are slowly revealed.
For we‘re all here for a reason,
As we pass from young to old,
And the longer that we live it,
The more answers will unfold.
And though we entered the world that way,
We were never meant to be alone,
And though we may often try,
We can’t do it all on our own.
For I believe happiness is our purpose,
And a purpose made to share,
To help make happy the ones we love,
And show them that we care.
And whatever our purpose in life may be,
And only time will truly tell,
My only hope is that I’ve served it,
And served my purpose well.
03-13-11.
The Clicking Tease Is On Her Knees
Written for erotic author ClickingkeysTease…
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
Getting it from behind,
So many guys just want their turn,
I know I wouldn’t mind.
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
And man can she suck cock,
Just the sight of her hot pictures,
Makes mine hard as a rock.
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
In so many a young man’s dreams,
As they exercise their right arms,
They’re imagining her screams.
The Clicking Tease is on her knees,
And she does live up to her name,
So many young men just might go blind,
And she’ll be the one to blame.
But what those young men may never know,
Is Miss Clicking is more than just a tease,
Because with a hot body like hers,
The Tease was built to please.
02-13-11.
The Jerk at Work
My job I really don’t mind,
It’s the people and the work,
Especially the guy next to me,
Who personifies the word “jerk.”
I wish he would do something,
Anything to earn his pay,
Instead he just gets on my nerves,
And my nerves are starting to fray.
This jerk is looking for a better job,
And keeps asking me for advice,
Do I look like a Google search bar?
But instead I just try to be nice.
He actually asked me for a referral,
And I looked at him just fine,
I’d like to give him a referral alright,
To the unemployment line.
This moron better start to realize,
And I hope he does somehow,
That the next job he’ll be applying for,
May be the one he’s holding now.
2-04-11.
The Facebook Poem
I’d heard about social networking,
And how it was the next big thing,
So I just had to take a look,
And ended up on Facebook.
It only took me a little while,
To fill out most of my profile,
But I have spent many a night,
Figuring out the rest of the site.
I never realized I had so many friends,
The friend requests never ends,
All the people I can’t stand at work,
And now the biggest high school jerk.
I have to admit I’ve learned a bunch,
I know what all my friends eat for lunch,
And it really helps me that I know,
Everyone’s favorite TV show.
The work on Facebook never stops,
I have to water my imaginary crops,
Send get-well wishes to Farmville quick,
My friend’s imaginary cow got sick.
I now realize my chances are dire,
Of ever building a Mafia empire,
And perhaps it is a bit of a shame,
My It Girl will never go on to fame.
My kid’s statuses tell me of their life,
At dinner time I get poked by the wife,
I try to keep my friend count nice and fat,
So, I even signed up the dog and cat.
I guess you can say my life’s complete,
I have more friends than I’ll ever meet,
On Facebook I can roam far and wide,
And I never have to go outside.
02-19-11
When Friends Betray Friends
When friends betray friends,
With words less than kind,
It tears apart the friendship,
And all the ties that bind.
When friends betray friends,
It hurts you to the core.
All the trust and love,
It all goes out the door.
Like an ice cold sword,
That tears through your heart,
When friends betray friends,
It will tear your soul apart.
All the love and friendship,
Built up from the ground,
When friends betray friends,
It all comes crashing down.
And all that peace and harmony,
Built throughout the years,
When friends betray friends,
You’re left with only tears.
1-26-11.
My Love Did Sometimes Wander
My love did sometimes wander,
And my thoughts did often roam,
From the one who held them dear,
And gave my love a home.
But I was young and restless,
And my heart would want to play,
Never thinking of the one I’d hurt,
When my love would go astray.
They say if you play with fire,
You sometimes will get burned,
And though the lessons were often hard,
The lessons did get learned.
For I know my heart belongs right here,
With the one whose love is true,
And if my thoughts should wander again,
They will wander back to you.
1-20-11.