Nicodemus Scenzio

An erect penis draped in a glistening vagina
Is that erotic?

Silken words whispered
so that they slip amongst the spine
tugging the toes curled as you get
closer, closer, closer...
Is that erotic?

Hot breath heating the room
with screams of, "Oh my GOD!"
blasphemy piercing the room
as the pattering of flesh applauds your efforts
Is that erotic?

Or perhaps erotic is that moment at the bar
drink sweat mixing with the future wet
even as your eye's betray your unspoken promise
every inch of you eager to lose all control, but
is that erotic?

School girls are erotic,
clad in innocence even as they strip you of apprehension
sweet smiles offering up artless submission
which in tandem swells ego and sex, and yet really
is that erotic?

When Webster's was inquired
it returned "of, devoted to, or tending to arouse sexual love or desire"
but does this fuel a pyre
built on lust and love and sweat and fire...
is that erotic?

Dancing, slow sinuous movement interacting with rhythm
physical mimicry of emotion made sound
connecting without connecting
yet connecting that you'll be connecting at the club's close...
is that erotic?

Light glinting in your eyes
as you kiss the finger that rests on her thighs
work left behind as your miraculous distractions ride off to school
revealing a chance to lose your cool and clean-up after breakfast
is that erotic?

I'll tell you what erotic is.
Erotic is that pressure in your chest
that pushes the wetness of sex to lips, thighs and breasts
when your eyes are as connected as your breath
dying for the driving to drive your dying to death.

Air heating between our lips
Tasting your need
the sweet scent of you igniting
the urge to spread your affection

Electric goose bumps of sensuality
carry my finger-tips along your skin
toggling the the throttle of your desire
moistening you for my ownership

Parting you...oh, parting you
friction fueling fires of ecstasy
the erotic experience of you
propelling a rising urgency to

to too much

my digits dial into arcs
signing your flesh as we press
flesh wet with our sex
wringing out our essence as we write

Fireworks are a poor display by comparison
the explosive nature of our embrace
draining the world of all relevance
compressing eternity as we empty the world between us.
About Nicodemus Scenzio
Born in New York City during the summer of '81, Nicodemus Scenzio had
always been interested in poetry. With an affinity for free-verse and
alliteration, Nick has touched on many topics in his poetry, from the
silly to the erotic. This diversity probably stems from his
background, where his father worked as a poor cop from Brooklyn while
his mother had roots within South American aristocracy. The half
Italian - half Hispanic, fueled by the passions and principles of his
parents constantly worked with word-play that reflected the intensity
and meaning one can find within his poetry.

Nick moved from New York when he was just 10 years old, following his
parents south to the sunshine state, a decision he regrets that they
ever made. However, it was in Florida that Nick discovered his love of
poetry, and was grounded in his many influences. Among classic poets
like Robert Frost, Nicodemus has also been influenced by spoken word
poets like Rives, Sikou the Misfit, and Oscar Brown Jr., among others.
While "Yes" is Nicodemus's first poem published, it is also his first
submitted, and he looks forward to others enjoying more of his work.
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