When Tantric Sex Gets Ugly
I'm not sure what "tantric sex" means
but I think a finger goes up your butt.
“Tantric sex” seems to be reserved for people
who went on vacation for a week
at a Medieval Times restaurant
in Sedona, AZ,
with a large dwarf named Bruno.
In other words,
the redheaded stepchildren
of the fly kingdom.
When I get angry, it’s ugly.
When Gurdjieff gets angry,
it’s “tantric sex.”
At least that’s what P. Diddy told me.
I might consider tantric sex with Sting,
or any guy who’s lovin’ himself
more than he’s lovin’ me.
Yeeeah . . .
I WAS A TANTRIC SEX SLAVE
FOR A SENIOR TIBETAN BUDDHIST MONK
screeching at the Tibetans to GET OUT OF CANADA.
I was 16 and content to be
5'2" of pure Jewish jewishness.
I ended up on an island
surrounded by old perverts
where high priestesses were chanting
while touching themselves
to escape dementia.
That's when I spotted Steven Tyler
with giant white dentures
in half a coma.
I smelled a familiar perfume,
the one my grandmother had worn
to her own funeral.
My fly was undone,
my shirt unbuttoned,
and I was making love
to a barking tiny pony.
His or her name was
Barking Mad Elmo.
He or she was not distracted
by the 4 wheelerchairs going down
on a bunch of American teenagers,
the coolest of whom was
the guy who invented Ctrl-Alt-Delete
who also happens to be
the Fonz is back in town, and he's looking for
Tantric sex involving Arthurian legends
involving Spongebob and Gandalf
involving gangsta rap and druidism,
all rolled together in the guise of some
tantric dragon lady with all sorts of spooky
Eastern sex secrets.
I wish him
all the luck.
-- Sharon Mesmer