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Captain of My Fate
I stand aboard my vessel grand And gaze upon the troubled seas Darkness looms above the waters And fills me with unease. I smell a storm upon the air My mental crew begin to brace The pain of storms that've come to pass Leave scars upon my face. My crew look far in frightened gaze And brace as they prepare For damage done to all but one The captain will be spared. I, the captain, seem unmoved My wits as strong as stone Crew are shaken to the core, And frightened to the bone. But as the captain stands at bow My back faced to the crowd The scars I bare are hidden from The masses by a shroud. I stand unwavered by the tales That frighten them with myth My will is iron, and heart is steel Because I learned to smith My will was honed by horrid nights As thunder shook my soul. My heart was hardened by the storm As mourning took its toll. I use the pain from all my scars To keep the storm at bay. And though the crew may seem unsure The captain knows the way
Play Count: 182

[M] Feels So High
Hormones rush as hands caress My lips massage and grace your neck Heart is beating as moans escape I feel your sounds and body quake. My breath upon thy exposed skin Sex sublime within this hug Clothing splayed across the bed Lips now kiss between your legs Sighs and breath escape my throat Chills now run and tensions grow I need to feel you satisfied To escape from this deep hole I've dug Desperation fills my soul Obsession starts to take its toll But, your pleasure makes me feel divine Adrenaline pumps, sends shivers down my spine. Addictive feelings, pleasure abound Cripple like a sex-born drug.
Play Count: 270

[M] Will You Choose?
Will you choose to sleep with me? Will you choose to kiss for me? Will you choose to live for me? Will you choose to bend for me? Will you let me treat you well? Will you succumb to a lover's spell? Against you my arousal swells Two bodies together, a story to tell. Shall your back caress my chest? Shall my lips caress your breast? Shall I watch as you undress? Upon your ass my hand shall rest. Will you let me spank you bare? Will you let me pull your hair? Will you let me catch your air? Will you let me lick you there? I can pin you 'gainst the wall. Shove you down and make you crawl. And if you ever feel too small, Just know my heart you have enthralled. So will you choose to beg for me? Cause I will choose to moan for thee. And will you choose to live for me? Release the mind and set it free.
Play Count: 385

May I feel? Said he by E E Cummings
May I feel? said he I'll squeal. said she Just once. said he It's fun. said she May I touch? said he How much? said she A lot. said he Why not? said she Let's go. said he Not too far. said she What's too far? said he Where you are. said she May i stay? said he Which way? said she Like this. said he If you kiss... said she May i move? said he Is it love? said she If you're willing... said he But you're killing! said she But it's life. said he But your wife... said she Now. said he Ow! said she Tiptop. said he Don't stop. said she Oh no. said he Go slow. said she Cccome? said he Ummm said she You're divine! said he You are Mine. said she
Play Count: 287

[M] Please Master by Allen Ginsberg
Please master can I touch your cheeck please master can I kneel at your feet please master can I loosen your blue pants please master can I gaze at your golden haired belly please master can I have your thighs bare to my eyes please master can I take off my clothes below your chair please master can I can I kiss your ankles and soul please master can I touch lips to your hard muscle hairless thigh please master can I lay my ear pressed to your stomach please master can I wrap my arms around your white ass please master can I lick your groin gurled with blond soft fur please master can I touch my tongue to your rosy asshole please master may I pass my face to your balls, please master order me down on the floor, please master tell me to lick your thick shaft please master put your rough hands on my bald hairy skull please master press my mouth to your prick-heart please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base till I swallow and taste your delicate flesh-hot prick barrel veined Please Mater push my shoulders away and stare in my eyes, & make me bend over the table please master grab my thighs and lift my ass to your waist please master your hand's rough stroke on my neck your palm down to my backside please master push me, my feet on chairs, till my hole feels the breath of your spit and your thumb stroke please master make me say Please Master fuck me now Please Master grease my balls and hairmouth with sweet vaselines please master stroke your shaft with white creams please master touch your cock head to my wrinkled self-hole please master push it in gently, your elbows enwrapped round my breast your arms passing down to my belly, my penis you touch w/ your little fingers please master shove it in me a little, a little, a little, please master sink your droor thing down my behind & please master make me wiggle my rear to eat up the prick trunk till my asshalfs cuddle your thighs, my back bent over, till I'm alone sticking out, your sword stuck throbbing in me please master pull out and slowly roll onto the bottom please master lunge it again, and withdraw the tip please please master fuck me again with your self, please fuck me Please Master drive down till it hurts me the softness the Softness please master make love to my ass, give body to center, & fuck me for good like a girl, tenderly clasp me please master I take me to thee, & drive in my belly your selfsame sweet heat-rood you fingered in solitude Denver or Brooklyn or fucked in a maiden in Paris carlots please master drive me thy vehicle, body of love drops, sweat fuck body of tenderness, Give me your dog fuck faster please master make me go moan on the table Go moan O please master do fuck me like that in your rhythm thrill-plunge & pull-back-bounce & push down till I loosen my asshole a dog on the table yelping with terror delight to be loved Please master call me a dog, an ass beast, a wet asshole, & fuck me more violent, my eyes hid with your palms round my skull & plunge down in a brutal hard lash thru soft drip-fish & throb thru five seconds to spurt out your semen heat over & over, bamming it in while I cry out your name I do love you Please Master.
Play Count: 683

[M] Plegaria al Orgasmo (Prayer to the Orgasm) by Dina Posada
(SPANISH) Ajeno a mis pensamientos huiste a un casto silencio Hoy que sedienta mi sangre te busca ni a golpes ni a ruegos te insinúas enajenado prosigues riguroso y oprimido y largamente oscuro como pasillo de convento desolado Tú ángel de dura delicia apático orgasmo rebelde erizado temblor pólvora vulnerable regresa a mí y aniquílame (ENGLISH)(I apologize for inaccuracies and any lack of grace in the translation. Still learning Spanish!) Oblivious to my thoughts, You fled to a chaste silence. Today, How my blood thirsts for you. No matter how much I fight it or beg, You insinuate yourself. You remain alienated, harsh and oppressed, long and dark Like the hall of an empty convent You angel of harsh delight. Meaningless rebellious orgasms make the hair stand on end. Lively, yet vulnerable. Return to me, and destroy me.
Play Count: 403

The Shower by Charles Bukowski
We like to shower afterwards (I like the water hotter than she) and her face is always soft and peaceful and she'll watch me first spread the soap over my balls lift the balls squeeze them, then wash the cock: "hey, this thing is still hard!" then get all the hair down there,- the belly, the back, the neck, the legs, I grin grin grin, and then I wash her. . . first the cunt, I stand behind her, my cock in the cheeks of her ass I gently soap up the cunt hairs, wash there with a soothing motion, I linger perhaps longer than necessary, then I get the backs of the legs, the ass, the back, the neck, I turn her, kiss her, soap up the breasts, get them and the belly, the neck, the fronts of the legs, the ankles, the feet, and then the cunt, once more, for luck. . . another kiss, and she gets out first, toweling, sometimes singing while I stay in turn the water on hotter feeling the good times of love's miracle I then get out. . . it is usually mid-afternoon and quiet, and getting dressed we talk about what else there might be to do, but being together solves most of it for as long as those things stay solved in the history of women and man, it's different for each- for me, it's splendid enough to remember past the memories of pain and defeat and unhappiness: when you take it away do it slowly and easily make it as if I were dying in my sleep instead of in my life
Play Count: 300

[M] The Weary Blues by Langston Hughes
Please feel free to let me know what you think! Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other night By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light He did a lazy sway . . . He did a lazy sway . . . To the tune o' those Weary Blues. With his ebony hands on each ivory key He made that poor piano moan with melody. O Blues! Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool. Sweet Blues! Coming from a black man's soul. O Blues! In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan— "Ain't got nobody in all this world, Ain't got nobody but ma self. I's gwine to quit ma frownin' And put ma troubles on the shelf." Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then he sang some more— "I got the Weary Blues And I can't be satisfied. Got the Weary Blues And can't be satisfied— I ain't happy no mo' And I wish that I had died." And far into the night he crooned that tune. The stars went out and so did the moon. The singer stopped playing and went to bed While the Weary Blues echoed through his head. He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.
Play Count: 321

[M] Man Was Made to Mourn by Robert Burns
My first recorded listening like this. Feel free to let me know what you think! When chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One ev'ning, as I wander'd forth Along the banks of Ayr, I spied a man, whose aged step Seem'd weary, worn with care; His face furrow'd o'er with years, And hoary was his hair. "Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou?" Began the rev'rend sage; "Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or youthful pleasure's rage? Or haply, prest with cares and woes, Too soon thou hast began To wander forth, with me to mourn The miseries of man. "The sun that overhangs yon moors, Out-spreading far and wide, Where hundreds labour to support A haughty lordling's pride;- I've seen yon weary winter-sun Twice forty times return; And ev'ry time has added proofs, That man was made to mourn. "O man! while in thy early years, How prodigal of time! Mis-spending all thy precious hours- Thy glorious, youthful prime! Alternate follies take the sway; Licentious passions burn; Which tenfold force gives Nature's law. That man was made to mourn. "Look not alone on youthful prime, Or manhood's active might; Man then is useful to his kind, Supported in his right: But see him on the edge of life, With cares and sorrows worn; Then Age and Want-oh! ill-match'd pair- Shew man was made to mourn. "A few seem favourites of fate, In pleasure's lap carest; Yet, think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest: But oh! what crowds in ev'ry land, All wretched and forlorn, Thro' weary life this lesson learn, That man was made to mourn. "Many and sharp the num'rous ills Inwoven with our frame! More pointed still we make ourselves, Regret, remorse, and shame! And man, whose heav'n-erected face The smiles of love adorn, - Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn! "See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn. "If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave, By Nature's law design'd, Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind? If not, why am I subject to His cruelty, or scorn? Or why has man the will and pow'r To make his fellow mourn? "Yet, let not this too much, my son, Disturb thy youthful breast: This partial view of human-kind Is surely not the last! The poor, oppressed, honest man Had never, sure, been born, Had there not been some recompense To comfort those that mourn! "O Death! the poor man's dearest friend, The kindest and the best! Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest! The great, the wealthy fear thy blow From pomp and pleasure torn; But, oh! a blest relief for those That weary-laden mourn!"
Play Count: 290