Romance
I was thinking about how to categorize what I write and I kept coming back to the term romance. Maybe explicit romance, but romance nonetheless. To this point I’ve called it erotica, I think that’s unfair and inaccurate as the word ‘erotic’ or ‘erotica’ conveys that the text, the content is just about sex. While I do insert a healthy does of sex in the words, the draw, the excitement of the story is about the romance. The passion. The danger of the situation.
It’s easy enough to say “she put her lips on his cock and he shook until he collapsed from the force of his cumming.” You automatically know what I’m saying, you understand the action and the interaction of the characters. She gave him a blowjob until he came. Nice, but there is no suspense, no buildup, no desire, romance or passion.
However, if I say “the world grew sharper as he felt the heat of her touch, his senses were refined as her lips kissed and teased at his desire. He fought to contain his excitement, his self control was not enough, eventually the world faded as he was consumed entirely by her reality.” What did I say here? The same thing I said previously but I gave you passion, romance, desire.
The words left room for your mind to interpret them as you desired, to put you in the situation, man or woman, and build the scene in your head. Isn’t that what we all want in a good story? The ability to suspend your disbelief and insert yourself into the fantasy until it becomes your reality, until the words become your actions and you no longer even see them, the page or the book but a scene in your head. That’s what I described in the story, “They’re just words right?”, posted prior to this. The woman reading the book gets so lost inside of it that she can no longer distinguish the words from reality. She no longer knows if she’s reading the book or living it. That’s the difference between erotica and romance. The difference between writing and expressing. The difference between a story and passionate expressions.
So no, I shall no longer refer to my work as erotica. It’s bigger than that category. My words allow you to live my desires, feel my passion, taste my pleasure and make it yours. True, the ultimate destination of each is release but sometimes the journey is sweeter than the arrival.
-Malcolm Lloyd
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They’re just words right?
They’re just words right?
As long as they stay on the page
What could possible go wrong?
She would surely be amazed
My words inspire desire
They are passion uncaged
Each letter a tactile experience
With every word pleasure remains
She couldn’t possibly know
She was soon to see
Her every movement was captured
Perfectly
Visually by me
I encased semantically
Her ever desire
Verbs romantically linked with adjectives
Nouns dipped in fire
Prepositions very existence
To close the short distance
From fantasy to reality
She offered no resistance
They were just words after all…
Continue reading They’re just words right?
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Salvation
Duane Francis took a look at this topic with the excellent read “Inner City State of Mind” on his site here. It inspired me to post one I’d written months ago with a similar, if more controversial context. I hope you like it.Churches and Liquor stores
booze and God
explore with me the path
of the neighborhood that is ours
I count a store every mile
at least twenty churches in that same time
a liquor store to match
I guess even salvation isn’t a strong enough patch
everyone wants to escape
no one moves away
they deflect it with the thoughts
“where would I go anyway?”
It’s sad
the way this place exists
poverty mixed with pleasure
street peddlers of bliss
in small enough packages
the soul is abandoned
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Without Choice, Without Remorse
She winked at me and my heart grew bolder
When she smiled at me it emboldened my soldier
I couldn’t get past that sparkle in her eye
It beckoned me come closer, how could I deny?
So I approached and what did I find?
She took my by the hand and transformed to my guide
She led me to danger, in the space of an instant
Her words promised me pleasure, just cover the distance
I did and as if in a trance
When I awoke we were entangled in a forbidden romance
Synchronized trance
Forbidden dance
Between the sheets
Pleasure enhanced
All that in a instant
All that in a vision
All that in a smile that defied resistance
I had no choice, in truth I never did
I was always hers, it was only the journey that could be different
-Malcolm Lloyd
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Surrender
I won’t stop…until there is nothing left between us…until your jeans are torn and lying in the corner, your thong ripped and stuffed in your mouth to silence your screams, your bra…missing and in multiple pieces and you bent over the table…ass cheeks swollen and red, with me deep inside you whispering into your ear…asking you questions that you can’t answer…pulling your hair when I don’t hear the muffled scream loud enough…scratching your back when I don’t feel you arch it forcefully.
You don’t have a choice. You give me what I want…eventually.
After all the fight is gone, all the resistance spent…all of the fire and attitude channeled into places that swell with the anticipation. You surrender to me and whatever I have in mind. You yearn for nothing but to pleasure me, you dream of only my touch…rough at first, to tame your spirit, then soft, to soothe your broken will.
You desire my body inside of yours, hard…wanting…searching and delivering. You anticipate every thrust and respond with your very being as if nothing else matters but pleasing your master because in the end…nothing else does.
The cycle repeats…
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Hope
It’s the light in your eyes
I miss it terribly
It’s the way that you smiled
When I suggested running away with me
Though I know you were placating me
Never for once taking me seriously
The thought alone was enough to give me ecstasy
It was your voice when we conversed for a spell
The way you made topics come alive so well
Your words had texture to me
Though you’d praise my clarity
Your wit came effortlessly
Arousing me…intellectually
I won’t even touch upon the danger
That irresistible stranger
Forever present
Yet avoiding all attempts to tame her
Her appearance results in subtle mood shifts
Still though we approach her warily
Never do we beg of her desist
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Away
In the bed between the sheets
Under the stars while the moon peeks
Our bodies like poetry
When they meet
Ecstasy
That which defines our release
Your touch
Which makes my heart beat
You want it, it’s yours
Come with me
To the place of dreams
Where wonders never cease
And thoughts turn to steam
As actions paint a passionate scene
You scream
I need
You speak
I believe
The pent up frustration
Is but an indentation
The paragraph is spoken
And all resistance is broken
Think of me and we shall be
Together forever
Or at least until sweet release
-Malcolm Lloyd
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Untitled…
In her eyes I was startled
Trapped in their clarity
She drank me in and held me
An eternity
Naked for her to see
She held my soul
So bold
My arrogance whisked away from me
I was naught but a man to her
And her;
A goddess to me
-Malcolm Lloyd
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Questions & Answers
Hmm…so if I kissed you would you kiss me back?
Would you touch me back if my hands caressed the small of your back?
Would you look into my eyes and return my stare?
Would you allow me to lead, and then follow me somewhere?
Would you trust me to never touch you wrong?
Would you never doubt my fingers wherever they might roam?
Would you allow my mind to read yours and respond in kind?
Would you stay with me till the end of all time?
Continue reading Questions & Answers
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Where is my Muse?
Sigh…I haven’t posted a poem in a while as I haven’t written one in quite some time. I’ve found I’ve lost my inspiration, my drive…my muse. I write this in hopes that maybe she’ll come back and grace me with the inspiration to create, the desire to procreate words, to make verbs exist that I’ve fallen in love with over the past several months. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this devoid of creativity, this lack of life…since every line I’ve written has just fallen flat on the paper…the ink refusing even to stick and make a mockery of what…had been till now…true talent and passion.
So I write this with over the top words and expression in hopes that maybe the hyperbole will somehow spur the creativity I so obvioulsy lack back into being.
So consider this a call…if you read this blog…still and you have a topic…any topic that you want to see in lights…
leave me a comment and I’ll do my best to write about it.
On a side note…I REALLY HATE THE WORDPRESS EDITOR. SERIOUSLY HATE IT. Sigh.
Mood: Grumpy and lacking creativity.
-Malcolm Lloyd
