Outspoken feminist, sexpert and voice of a generation Fadora McSexypants answers your questions on life, love and lust.
Good Evening UCD,
The season of goodwill towards men is nearly upon us, and to celebrate the occasion, I thought to myself: “Fadora, everyone loves your sage advice, why not stir it up with some erotic poetry? It’s what the people really want.”
This coincided perfectly with my good friend and one-time lover Killian Woods, forwarding me a collection of some the finest sexy poems ever to grace the cyberweb. In the absence of any author, I can only assume he wrote them himself.
So, to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of our Lord, I present to you a very special edition of Hot and Nasty:
Fadora’s Sexy Haiku Review
Your mouth around my
Nipple makes me gasp, longing
For your mouth elsewhere
So elegant. So vivid. It’s as if the nipples are just leaping off the page. Look at the way the author managed to ignore any convention of complete sentences – is it a homage to TS Eliot’s The Wasteland, or is she just a bit shit?
Notice how the writer leaves us in suspense as to where she next wants her lover’s mouth to go. Her lips? Her thighs? Down the shops? The possibilities are endless. Also, read the poem again, but this time, imagine it as a rape scenario – the poem works equally well.
We could further consider that she is “longing” for his mouth elsewhere – does her lover have a second mouth located somewhere else on his body? A sly back-of-the-knee mouth, perhaps, for those most explorative of evenings.
I took all of you
Inside me; your body, your
Heart and your soul too.
Well, congratulations to the woman, if she can fit the entirety of her lover inside her, she’s a better woman than I. If we consider this as a metaphor (which I do not), then it takes on an entirely new connotation as somewhat ‘romantic’, but it doesn’t do anything to alleviate the imagery that having sex with this woman is like throwing a sausage roll into the Sarlacc pit.
Upon reading this, does anyone else get the feeling that it’s turned a little ‘serial-killery?’ I’m sure the author took long enough breaks between her Twilight marathons to ‘accidentally’ kill some neighbourhood cats. She’ll be talking about eating each other next.
Licking like a fine
Young lion, you roar, you feed,
You possess me… You.
Dear Lord, I imagine this is what Girl, Interrupted would be like if Winona Ryder weighed 20 stone and had completely misread The Bell Jar.
Also, and perhaps I am simply nit picking at this point, but I get the impression that our poet is running out of ideas for syllables, and is just trying to fill up space.
Is it really necessary to describe him as “a fine young lion”? As if the thought having sex with a lion that’d reached full maturity would be the thing that might put me off. What’s more, there’s something almost insulting in calling him “fine”, as if to say, “he’s alright, could do better”. Oh yes, a night of passion with a mediocre baby cat, that’s got my engine revving.
Finally, she leaves us with the immortal lines: “You possess me… you.” I’m glad she had the forethought to plan her syllables out in advance, the emo twat. I can confirm, however, that this indeed a haiku. You almost forget that there is no way this woman has ever had sex. In response, I have written my own haiku to try and complete the message I believe the poet is going for.
My lonely heart bleeds
Under my Misfits sweatshirt
Someone please do me.
Shut up, that’s awesome,
Fadora McSexypants, LOL.
Next fortnight, Fadora bears all, and explains the importance of unpronounceable safety words.
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