Sexy Science Rap
By Lauren Edwards
She got my cardiovascular system on overdrive, baby
Makin’ me think I got a psychopathology
An anxiety disorder would explain a lot
Like why when she’s around I feel like I been shot
Sympathetic nervous system really takin’ over
Just wanna tell her, that I really love ‘er
Almost wishin’ I was going into cardiac arrest
Hopin’ she’d perform CPR on my chest
Keep me alive girl, keep things from going south
Oh, wait, I think I’m gonna need mouth to mouth
Come on baby, press down on my sternum
Get my heart started, got me sayin’ dayummmn
This girl’s so fine, considered giving her a rock
If it was made of sugar, it’d cause diabetic shock
But my baby’s healthy, she’s a perfect specimen
Just wanna take her home and show her to my love den
Baby, you’re my double helix and you know what that means
I’ll be your DNA helicase and help unzip your jeans
Girl you make my heart beat so fast I wanna vomit
Definitely over the average 72 beats per minute
Hold me baby, palpate my anatomical landmarks
Biggest in town, now that’s a trademark
I’m gonna end this rap, girl, let me explain
It’s hard to think with the lack of blood in my brain
Beauty on, Beautiful
By Boss Whirly
“I’m gonna fuck you”
at backgammon in the bar early.
Our first game
Not our first game.
A comedy show for you I get on the list us two;
a comedy show for me you pay my cover.
Women. Are. Funny.
Fuck how we laughed.
You bought the beer at home I bought the beer at the show and when I looked at you over the drunken laughter you said you were going to destroy me. At backgammon.
Back at the house, a tall dark stout I put on the Slits vinyl and make you do pushups
I do sit-ups and I know they are not good for your back.
I teach you plank breathing heavy I plank on top of you.
Breathe I say
you hold my ankles
while I sit-up
Again
And again
Coach
You count
and talk me through
two more
two more
me and you on a yoga mat on the living room floor
and when you’re finally in me we have warmed up
and we rep
and rep and
rep hot and wet
the fire trucks screamin’ while we breathin’ and we don’t look out the window cause let it.
The funny girl said how in the U.S. everyone’s trying to sell you pills.
If your eyes are dry they try and sell you pills;
she said:
“Cut an onion”
and me and you laughed and drank and she said:
“Can’t produce tears? Maybe you’re just happy.”
And after we wiped our feet
and after we took the garbage out
and after we worked it out and fucked on the floor I cried and I laughed and
I cried.
Because
I love you.
I love you
I love you.
Sweet Infatuation
By Dana Carly Andrews
She’s walking on tiled ground,
solid, she stands lipstick slick
and sealed up.
Her eyes graze the counter
lazily blinking,
hazel lonely.
She stares
and says nothing.
A single finger lifts to feel the glass,
her nail clicking,
a lone typewriter pressing y-e-s
please.
I w-a-n-t it
hot and thick.
Soft pinks moan, curved around
dark chestnuts coming
out from under sweet
mouthfuls of flesh.
Lips release to breathe soft white
mist twisting up
cigarette smoke in a 1930s film.
Anxiously tonguing her lower lip
she waits
while a weathered hand
slices through warm
skin.
Cinnamon, crimson reds spill slowly over the blade,
hungry scarlet juices scream
grasping the cool metal,
bending over and around
over and
over and
over again.
Finally exhaling when lifted in –
Yes, this woman is
infatuated.
Who needs a man, honey,
when a dollar and change can buy love?
Juliet
By Dana Carly Andrews
The river, my Juliet
and I hers.
She, a blanket for my temple,
I, swallowed under decades of diamond sea.
Sand brushes my two feet freely –
I visit often.
When night calls,
I breathe silk and race her.
My skin in, under, over her
and I, catching fingers on ribs of rock and branch,
cover her in warm red blood
spilt easily.
It doesn’t hurt much.
But to be without her?
I would fill my insides thick with poisons,
let strangers in,
bruise and beat my empty skin
with dead men.
They would lick me swollen,
kiss me lipless, sick me rotten,
and I would lay in the place
where my thighs came together
and I would weep for her.
Juliet
Juliet
I. Love. You.
By Erica Newman
I’m smiling, looking into your eyes when it happens.
Uh oh.
My lungs expand to allow sufficient air in order to push it out,
Simultaneously vibrating my larynx in hopes that the sound waves will travel from inside of me into the immense, scary world,
And find their final resting place in the quivering hairs of your cochlea.
Passersby might steal a single sound but the waves belong wholly to you.
Against my will my body’s strongest muscle arcs and lifts,
To form the words my brain has chosen without consulting me.
“I”.
It lingers there, dripping off my rebellious tongue.
“I” could be the beginning of any inane and harmless sentence.
But not today,
Not out of my mouth.
“Love”.
The weather? This room?
If only it could be that simple.
Wide-eyed and frightened I realize that I’m two-thirds there.
Only one-third of the third grade mathematics pizza pie could instantaneously bring tears to my eyes,
And a tear in my heart.
“You”.
I said it. It’s done.
The words hang between us on a string, bobbing slightly and swayed by the wind of the open door.
I feverishly grasp to grab them and stuff them in my mouth,
Forcing them down my esophagus and into my stomach,
Where it’s dark and quiet and acid can break down the foolish notion of love like a simple carbohydrate.
But it’s too late.
I can tell by your face that the waves have made their destination,
And the sound has registered from thought to emotion to rejection.
You leave and the wind from the door blows “I love you” into my face,
Mocking me.
I want to tell you that it wasn’t my fault,
That it was an unconscious bodily function,
That it was no more controllable than the beat of my heart, which is now rapid,
Or the blink of my eye, which is now watery.
But it’s too late.
And left in this room is only my body with “I love you” on a string and my mind somewhere else.
Sheet Music
By St. F
Sex
is in the rhythm of Mother Earth
and Mama knows cause every birth was begun with a headboard beating to the same drum
every time you come
your erection
becomes part of the horn section
blowing your load aloud
when I come I’m
proud to sing in harmony
with all my sisters that come with me
and our
vibrators hum along
but they don’t know the words
‘cause sex is in the rhythm of Mother Earth for what it’s worth
I’ve had men who could
hit G perfectly
but without timing
without integrity
well
it’s just not going to do anything for me
so now
I only fuck musicians
and I know my mom’s wishin’ I’d do otherwise
she’s told me
these guys’ll
pluck your heartstrings until they sting
and still
it sounds so good
and I always understood
she told me time and time again
these men
when they turn old and grey
you’re going to get sick of hearing them say
I am employed
but even my mother married a bass player
so she can’t say shit
‘cause even my mother knew that
sex was in the rhythm of Mother Earth
it’s not about size
not about girth
not even about making love
‘cause if you need sex to make love you’ve got your own shit to deal with
tonight we’re not going to make love
tonight
let’s make music
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