His Beloved Olivia

A tiny puff of wind
covertly breezed into the room
and elicited a little squirm, rhythmed
from beloved Olivia in full bloom

His tempted tongue, quivering
unfurled her moist nether lips in heat
she moaned, her arched hips wriggling
Holy! What a treat!

He thrust inside with pleasure
gently circling her pink pearl, aroused
so sultry was his muse’s gesture
it left him in utter wows

He fondled, kissed and licked her
savouring the juices nectarean
He sucked over and over
revelling in that one moment utopian

The intensity of her sensations heightened
till she pressed herself against her bourgeois
He captured the glow in her face, enlightened
as she finally let out an ecstatic ‘Ahh’

Spirituality

It’s 2016. I have decided that I’m gonna start to speak my mind unapologetically by writing my absurdly wild thoughts within quotation marks and tag them as ‘The Little Mermaid’ to make them sound more credible so that people believe every shit that I rave about. Let’s just do it sassy and a wee bit smart-assy.

“If people actually made love to the mind and soul with the same flaming passion as they made to the physical body, we would have long had an illuminated generation of spiritually, morally and intellectually elevated species.” 

-The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

Ingenuity

“Raw ingenuity is very often misconstrued as madness by the crowd. Take no shit. Carry on.”

-The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

Solitude

“There are two types of solitude-one that pulls you into darkness and another one that pushes you towards light. While the former drowns a person in the tangled inferno of harrowing isolation, bottomless depression and lugubrious despondency; the latter transforms him to a fireball of energy when he is fully connected to his own being, thereby allowing the individual to get a glimpse of quintessential empyrean.”

-The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

Daddy’s Little Girl

A delightful cherub, a treasured angel, a ray of sunshine
Eyes full of mischief, puckishly running around the umbrella pine
Jolly in a perfect world of magic and miracle of mine
At six, I neither care to draw the line
Nor bother to define time.


Whoop! Daddy’s little girl I am, his princess too
With excitement my feet quiver as he looks at me and shouts “You-hoo”
“Cutie pie, bring me my shoe!”
Tickled pink I become when he rubs my head with shampoo
And he brings me to the zoo
Hand in hand, to admire the kangaroo
Along with the woodland caribou
How much I love him, how much I adore him, I’m telling you
If only Daddy knew
Of my heart’s untamed hullabaloo.

Every morning I hurry to tie his half windsor knot
In seventh heaven I be for this jackpot
Smelling of aromatic Bleu de Chanel he bought
Tut-tut! Daddy wants just the teapot
Does he even long for my touch? I waver on second thought.

Sneaking into his bed with all my might
I swear I am on cloud nine in the sweetness and the moonlight
Down here, my little bud is on a high and it feels alright
In the strong arms of my white knight
But so cold he is, as usual without appetite
Shh! Cruel Momma’s in sight
Goodnight. 

For long I waited for it-a signal, a sign, an indication
It never arrived, it never will, ’cause everything is self-deception
More so, an illusion
Do I live in a fool’s paradise? I shudder in rumination
I sense fear, guilt and sin creep in with my destruction
Stiffled, smothered and suppressed, I silently witness my desires’ annihilation
As they burn till nothing but ash is left at the dawn of realization
Daddy’s little girl I shall forever remain, is my final decision.

*Image borrowed from Google

Heya beautiful bloggers!

Since you’ve enjoyed my short poem (well I guess, hopefully), I’d like to explain to you its central theme, which as you correctly identified, yaay, is the Electra Complex. Developed by Sigmund Freud, the Electra Complex is a girl’s psychosexual competition with her mother for possession of her father. In the course of her psychosexual development, it occurs in the third—phallic stage (ages 3–6)—of the five psychosexual development stages: (i) the Oral, (ii) the Anal, (iii) the Phallic, (iv) the Latent, and (v) the Genital. 

This conflict normally resolves when the child finally identifies with the same-sex parent and employs the defence mechanism of displacement to shift the object of her sexual desires from her father to men in general. It is just a game of the id, ego and superego. Though it might not fall into our pattern of political correctness, the Electra Complex is much of a realness in reality and through my poem, I have modestly tried to explore this not much talked about subject.

Wish you a good read! 

I need you to make love to me

I need you to make love to me
But intense and raunchy I want it to be.
I heard lukewarm is no good
So tear me apart, open up your manhood.
Nah nah nah sweet boy
I’m not talking about the physically exhausting wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am
I’m talking about the mentally titillating one, goddamn.

Ice cold air, rich champagne, playful bonfire and sensual candles
Silk blanket, velvet linen and you away only a few bandles.
I could be a slave to your charms in a tick
Before you even think, though, to manoeuvre your hands over my body
I want you to drive me to a sizzling frenzy and wheedle my mind filthily.
Trust me when I say that darling
It is all worth it, your lustful yearning.

I need you close to me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear
Bring me to my knees, leave me a writhing mess, oh dear.
You might begin to wonder if words alone are enough
Well of course baby, without bluff.
The mind is the gateway to paradise and you know it too
I promise I’ll take you on a wild fleshly expedition
If you could just nurture my salacious cerebral gratification.

So why don’t you undress the many layers of my thoughts
And kiss every pearly bruise at secret spots?
Why don’t you remove any encumbrance
And touch my hidden conscience?
Why don’t you subtly stroke my ego
And stimulate my psychic libido?
Might I begin to drown in erotic desire and beg you wantonly?

Please sex me up, sweating, panting and shaking
Your raw body intertwined with mine is what I now want so bad, truly speaking.
I need you to make love to me in its glorious nudity
For you’ve already owned my soul totally.
Ah it kills me not to touch you in this game of the brain
The time is just so right
Come inside. 

*Image borrowed from Google

A Taste Of The Forbidden Fruit (Part II)

“Do you like wine, love?”, Paul mumbled succintly and teasingly in her ear in a deep, gentle voice that educed an aristocratic tender masculinity.

“Pardon me?” Esther replied, confused and beguiled; quite oblivious of where the conversation was going, but so conscious of her large bust brushing against his broad chest in that moment. She felt a tingling sensation down there. Esther drew a quick breath to regain her composure.

“Have you ever tasted red French wine?” He simpered again, crookedly.

“Er..I suppose, yes”, she answered huskily, obviously not wanting to disturb the strange, thrilling atmosphere between them.

A long speech on the world’s best French wines ensued.

“French wines are one of the choicest wines available on the market. Especially those made from Shiraz from France’s Rhone Valley. A red French wine, darling, is bright to look at, it is noble in character and it feels intense, concentrated, deep..It possesses elegance.”

“I see…” Esther responded, while she continued to stare in this charming stranger’s eyes, delving in the profundity of his thoughts to figure out what he was really talking about; for nothing, categorically nothing, but him, made sense to her.

“You are like French wine, my dear. Young, yet so ripe. Bold, yet so supple. Sparkling, yet so balanced. You’re so beautiful.”

At that point, Paul got goosebumps. Something inside him shuddered. His arms slipped to her waist and tightened around her. Then he drew her closer. Her fragrance was just as commanding as she was-smelling a mixture of sweet jasmine and salted vanilla. He gazed down at those slumberous eyes and parted bee-stung lips in the dim light. Esther reflexly knew this tempting inveigler was in control. Hitherto, he was.

“That if I kissed you..” She waited, but he never finished the sentence. Her eyes closed, and she softened in his arms.

He leaned in and brushed his raw lips across hers, testing the delicate skin, absorbing the heat. He amended next, playfully, pausing, puckering, nibbling on her moist lips for a single heartbeat. This roused Esther because at that instant, she desperately needed more-she needed him, wild and consuming. Now this was torture.

Just when he touched her lower lip with his tongue, Paul felt his penis stiffen as it pressed against her. Then he opened his mouth again, angled his head, captured her full lips and sealed them together in a fusion of heat and pent-up passion. She instinctively came up on her toes, and he settled his arm more firmly around her tiny waist, pulling her vehemently against his tension-filled body. His fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her longer, harder, deeper. She thrust her tongue inside his mouth and explored every secret corner. In a matter of seconds, they were soul-kissing voraciously; completely in sync with each other. For that short lascivious period of time, there was no beginning. There was no end. Only one thing mattered in the universe. That kiss.

“Give me your tongue”, breathed Esther, suggestively when they slightly parted for air. And she started sucking on his tongue gently, in and out of her mouth as she cupped his chiseled face with both hands and he squeezed her peachy bottom.

The kiss went on-occasionally changing from light and frisky to unyielding and serious. Paul swore his damsel not only looked like French wine, but she tasted like one too; and that his thirst would never be satiated for an eternity. He kissed her neck. She tipped her head back and gave him free access, biting down her lower lip. He spread his legs, pulling her tight into the vee. His fingertips-strong, calloused and erotic tightened on her sore nipples; and shock waves ricocheted between her thighs. It was so good. So incredibly, unbelievably good.

They wanted each other. Naked. As one energy. But good things seldom last long. Realization dawned. Esther instantly pulled away. Without thinking, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her, into the unknown, but at least in her mind she was going far away from this man.

Hunger knows no moral.
Lust knows no boundary.
Basic instincts drive us into animals.
And animals know no sin. 

Esther seemed to pacify her obstinate heart, trying hard to forget the face of that stranger. Alas! He was no stranger. Paul was her soulmate. And she just lost her soulmate.

(The End)

*Image borrowed from Google