Creative Writing


Check out my Daily Haiku Archive! As the title of this blog probably gave away, heroin tends to be the predominant theme of my little verse by syllable expressions. But I’m not that one-dimensional! Music, adult humor, socks, and my daily mood-swings have also made their way into my attempts at poetry. Here’s a small sampling of past haiku’s. But don’t stop here… go check out the complete collection! And if you feel so inspired, please leave one of your own as well!!

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Erotic Writing XXX3

Not a fan of poetry? (Me neither, I hate it really…. I just like expressing myself in syllables.) I bet you ARE a fan of sex though, right? I know my audience so well. Don’t be shy, I’m a fan of S-E-X too. A BIG fan. In fact, I have a little section of this blog entirely devoted to the subject. I bet some of you haven’t even noticed that little “Erotica” tab on the far right side of my menu bar. That’s okay, I ain’t mad atchya. That’s why I’m putting here as well, to increase your odds of stumbling across it.

They say a picture is worth 1,000 words. But sometimes 1,000 words can be well worth the orgasm it comes with. I know you’re used to the instant gratification of internet porn. But give the written word a try, prolong the gratification and enjoy the building sensation of impending climax. I’ve got a small, but kinky sampling of erotic writing, most of which explore themes like BDSM and Dom/Sub relationships. But if you’d rather just read about a good ol’ fashion BJ, I’ve got that too. (And rest assured, each story does come with a picture or two for those who simply can’t read without them;-) ) From kinky to kinky-est, you can read….

The After Party

The Rendezvous

I Must Always Satisfy My Master

I Find Joy Only Through Heeding My Master’s Word

The Vacation

When you’re done reading these and want something a little lighter, check out my adult humor, Sex Jokes Are Not Funny. I Mean, Cum on People!  It’s not porn, but you might find a little nudity and hopefully it’ll come with a chuckle or two as well. 😉


3 thoughts on “Creative Writing

  1. This is an old poem called “Cocaine Lil and Morphine Sue” which many people think is written by W.H. Auden; but instead was collected by him and included in “W.H. Auden’s Oxford Book Of Light Verse” and is actually credited as being anonymous. It was written in the 19th century and I think it is wonderful.

    Cocaine Lil and Morphine Sue

    Did you ever hear about Cocaine Lil?
    She lived in Cocaine town on Cocaine hill,
    She had a cocaine dog and a cocaine cat,
    They fought all night with a cocaine rat.

    She had cocaine hair on her cocaine head.
    She had a cocaine dress that was poppy red:
    She wore a snowbird hat and sleigh-riding clothes,
    On her coat she wore a crimson, cocaine rose.

    Big gold chariots on the Milky Way,
    Snakes and elephants silver and grey.
    Oh the cocaine blues they make me sad,
    Oh the cocaine blues make me feel bad.

    Lil went to a snow party one cold night,
    And the way she sniffed was sure a fright.
    There was Hophead Mag with Dopey Slim,
    Kankakee Liz and Yen Shee Jim.

    There was Morphine Sue and the Poppy Face Kid,
    Climbed up snow ladders and down they skid;
    There was the Stepladder Kit, a good six feet,
    And the Sleigh-riding Sisters who were hard to beat.

    Along in the morning about half past three
    They were all lit up like a Christmas tree;
    Lil got home and started for bed,
    Took another sniff and it knocked her dead.

    They laid her out in her cocaine clothes:
    She wore a snowbird hat with a crimson rose;
    On her headstone you’ll find this refrain:
    She died as she lived, sniffing cocaine.


  2. Ha! Thanks for filling in my missing content gaps. I some how screwed up the menus section and it stopped updating automatically. But that’s better actually most of the time 😉 Poetry added! But I honestly like yours better! Keep posting!


  3. Oooppsss…. Hey, there’s no poetry here…
    I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to be cheeky and leave a poem here for your page to get started. If you don’t like it you can delete it, I will understand…


    I remember the afternoon when you, my good friend, appeared at my door.
    Blazing a trail of halcyon rust, you pirouetted like a helpless feather in the wind,
    bounced elegantly off two walls and let gravity pull you to the nearest chair.

    Mumbling about how much, how clean.
    Hitting a pipeline, the dark crimson surge and heaven
    cascading through the walls as a tidal wave extinguishing the pain.

    Without saying a word I continued playing the battered Spanish guitar
    that some tone deaf fool had left abandoned after judging it with their eyes.
    “That’s nice” you said. Smiled, swayed and drifted into bliss.

    Content to just be; I encouraged the guitar to continue singing sweetly.
    Until gradually, it dawned on me that I was slowly killing you,
    gently lowering you back into the womb and away from realities grasp.

    I spoke your name.
    Shouted it.
    Screamed it in your ear.
    Not a flicker.
    Shook you as hard as I could.
    Slapped your face over and over.
    All the time watching your colours fade into a baltic blue.

    With my last resort of cold water shock I managed to let in a tiny chink of light.
    Which pierced the cocoon.
    Which flooded the grey back to pink.
    Which triggered the sharp intake of breath.
    Which prompted the glare.
    Which accompanied the words,
    “Ever throw water on me again and I’ll kill you!!”


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