ANAL CHANNEL

Glauco Matoso

I found it very funny! The storyteller
of the game, be careful, avoid the expletive
at all costs. Hypocrite, says: “No!
Can not! What does the listener suppose? “

But open the microphone and when
capture an instruction from the trainer
more harsh, you hear: “More horny,
fuck! More punch! More sweat! “

“In the tail! Take it in the tail! Screw it!”,
insist, shout the technician. Nobody
your voice barks on the radio. Elle boasts:

“I’m all! I’m a badass! Whoever loses has
more than to fuck! “Then come, braba,
the voice of the narrator: “How ugly! Me, huh?”

TENEBROSE EATING

Glauco Matoso
A blind man who assumes himself disdictable
but make verses for sale that sells you
the eyes, masochist idea sells,
in book, to its readers, that they enjoy.
Readers who will read Glauco Mattoso
such as, persistent, be intends to:
selling the vile image that extends
by luminous “desilluminismo”.
The scene that opens the awkward bard,
politics neither being nor correct,
giving can a term to the blind: unhappy.
So, “dehumanist”, your goal
is to burden a fucking burden
fucked up, enough: that of the poet.

DIRTY POEM

Do the People Developing Photos Look at Them? - VICE


Ferreira Gullar


cloudy cloudy
the cloudy
blow hand
against the wall
dark
less less
less than dark
less than soft and hard less than ditch and wall: less than hole
dark
more than dark:
clear
Like water? how feather? clear more than clear clear: nothing
and it all
(or almost)
an animal that the universe manufactures and has been dreaming from the bowels
blue
it was the cat
blue
was the cock
blue
the horse
blue
your ass
your gums just like your little pussy that seemed to smile between the leaves of
banana between the scents of flower and open pork dung as
a mouth of the body (not like your mouth of words) as a
entrance to
I didn’t know you
do not know
turn life around
with its heap of stars and ocean
entering us in you
beautiful beautiful
more than beautiful
but what was her name?
It wasn’t Helena or Vera
neither Nara nor Gabriela
neither Tereza nor Maria
His name his name was …
Lost in cold meat
lost in the confusion of so much night and so much day
got lost in the profusion of things that happened
alphabet constellations
chalk nights
birthday tablets
football sundays
Corsican burials rallies
roulette billiards playing cards
changed face and hair changed eyes and laughs moved house
and time: but is with me is
lost with me
your name
in some drawer.
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DEPRAVITY

E os amantes? - A Doutora Do Amor


Liz Christine


Write poetry about poetry?
Your body is poetry
Your voice dominates me
So soft
You are raw material
Converts
in poetry
Your voice melts me
You are sweet melody
That warms me
Touch, skin, look
Just breathe
Your breath
turns me on
Because art is horny
Passion in writing
I want your penetration

Invaded
For creation
Fuck
For you, passion
I want, need and give myself
I love you and I no longer deny
Do not deny, omit
It’s not admitting …

Don’t you dare ask
I write because I am
Feeling
What to love
It’s strong, intense, beautiful
Your look
Undressing
Come seducing me
Come … and hug me
And catch me
With violence, love
I’m wanton
My hand slips

And I’m already hugging you
Your fingers slide
Taunting
Pleasure … chills … wishes
That materialize
And I’m already holding
The passion realized
Aren’t you scaring anymore?
Love … keep depraving me

Depraving is changing
And I’m giving myself
Love you
It’s not hurting me

You were right…
Love is pleasure and fun
With content
And horny
Deep
Love is everything
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INSTINCT

Veja quais posições sexuais eles gostam de fazer com as amantes


Ronilson Rocha

Having her as my favorite female
that’s what my male instinct sends
reason finds this idea weird
but what matters is what I think …

mate with you in summer and spring
warm up with you in the cold winter
my desire for you awaits
love you even in hell

own you from behind or from the front
standing on the wall or lying in bed
what follies go through my mind
when I think of lighting your flame …

Love – because that is an essential word

Carlos Drummond de Andrade, em “O amor natural”. Rio de Janeiro: Record, 1992.

Love – because that is an essential word
start this song and get it all involved.
Love guide my verse, and while I guide you,
gather soul and desire, limb and vulva.
Who will dare to say that he is only soul?
Who does not feel the soul expand in the body
until it blooms in pure scream
orgasm, in an instant of infinity?
The body in another intertwined body,
molten, dissolved, back to origin
of beings, which Plato saw completed:
it is one, perfect in two; are two in one.
Integration in bed or already in the cosmos?
Where does the room end and reach the stars?
What strength in our flanks transports us
to this extreme, ethereal, eternal region?
At the delicious touch of the clitoris,
everything is already transformed, in a flash.
In a tiny point of that body,
the source, the fire, the honey were concentrated.
Go penetration breaking clouds
and searching so bright suns
that human sight has never endured,
but, in the light, coitus follows.
And it goes on and spreads in such a way
that besides us, beyond life itself,
as an active abstraction that becomes flesh,
the idea of ​​coming is coming.
And in suffering suffering between words,
less than that, sounds, gasps, woes,
a single spasm in us reaches climax:
is when love dies of love, divine.
How many times do we die in each other,
in the dank underground of the vagina,
in this death smoother than sleep:
the pause of the senses, satisfied.
Then peace is established. The peace of the gods,
lying on the bed, which statues
dressed in sweat, thanking
what to a god adds earthly love.

The ass, how funny

Carlos Drummond de Andrade, em “O amor natural”. Rio de Janeiro: Record, 1992.

The butt, how funny.
He is always smiling, he is never tragic.
in front of the body. The ass is enough.
Is there anything else? Maybe the breasts.
Now – murmurs the ass – these boys
they still have a lot to study.

The ass are two twin moons
in rotund wiggle. Walk by yourself
in the mimosa cadence, in the miracle
to be two in one, fully.

The ass has fun
on its own. And love.
In bed, it is agitated. Mountains.
they swell, they descend. Waves crashing
on an endless beach.

There the ass goes smiling. Go happy
in the caress of being and rocking
Harmonious spheres over chaos.

The butt is the butt
redounds.
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“MADEMOISELLE FURTA-COR”

Armando Freitas Filho

I know its beginning:
stitch and ball,
skein of honey and languor
slow links
that my tongue licks
in the naked heat,
in the middle of your legs:
hair rings,
longings and we fall apart
at nothing or stain
all over the body sheet
naked and rumpled:
we are all ties here
and we tear ourselves apart
slowly – pore by pore;
rumble of silks
or an entire skin
sweat and sigh:
I sob every scare you
that dissolves us.

“THE ELIXIR OF PAJÉ”

BERNARDO GUIMARÃES (1825-1884)


I adore you, divine water,
holy elixir of lust,
I give you my heart,
I give you my cum!
Make her, always stiff,
and horny always growing,
ceaselessly live fucking,
until fucking die!
Yes, make this fuck,
by your holy influence,
everyone win in potency,
and, with glorious allowances,
be soon proclaimed,
winner of one hundred thousand conos …
And be it on all wheels,
today respected
as a hundred thousand fuck hero,
for his heroic works,
elected fucking king!