The Book of Real and Imaginary Girlfriends

5.00 out of 5
(4 customer reviews)

$3.69 $0.99

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Sex on a Stick

The Book of Real and Imaginary Girlfriends

Rated 5.00 out of 5 based on 4 customer ratings
(4 customer reviews)

$3.69 $0.99

This is the original book of poetry that put Moctezuma Johnson on the porno-literary map. This little book has now become something of a classic. It has strangely even ranked in the top 25 of Amazon’s Love Poems. It certainly isn’t a book of love poems in the classic sense, but it does have depth, beauty, and porn. See review below.

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science fiction erotica love poems

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Description

What goes on behind closed doors? What goes on in the shadows of alley ways? This book of erotic poems and fiction from Moctezuma Johnson yanks the doorknobs from the doors and throws the doors open like a Sexual Cowboy busting into a Rough Saloon. Each poem is a spotlight onto a private act. As you read you get to be voyeur to the most intimate moments. You get to see things most people don’t want you to, things you have always wanted to see. You get to be the dirty things themselves in this blend of Porno-Literary Madness laced with sexual tension and an overriding sense of longing for women and love. This book of poems and fiction is poignant, it is perverse, it is perverted, it is lonely, and it truly explores the human condition.

 

Review by Poetess Extraordinaire Misti Rainwater-Lites:

Sex on a stick. Sex as corn dog, a carnival snack snatched and devoured in between the Zipper and the Tilt-A-Whirl.

Sex on a swizzle stick. Sex as vodka soaked olive, tongued and chewed and swallowed despite Justin goddamn Bieber on the jukebox (some bars in America still have those but they usually play the wrong goddamn music) and the wrong goddamn hand on your thigh.
Are there wrong hands? Are there wrong thighs?
In The Book of Real and Imaginary Girlfriends there are no wrong hands, thighs, tongues, lips, penises or vaginas. It’s all good it’s all right and up all night high on cough syrup or something similar and shameless and blameless in its unholy writhe.
Eat this. It is good.
–Misti Rainwater-Lites (rock star, author, porn star, poet)
 

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4 reviews for The Book of Real and Imaginary Girlfriends

  1. (verified owner) – :

    5 out of 5

    Praise:
    Sex on a stick. Sex as corn dog, a carnival snack snatched and devoured in between the Zipper and the Tilt-A-Whirl.

    Sex on a swizzle stick. Sex as vodka soaked olive, tongued and chewed and swallowed despite Justin goddamn Bieber on the jukebox (some bars in America still have those but they usually play the wrong goddamn music) and the wrong goddamn hand on your thigh.
    Are there wrong hands? Are there wrong thighs?

    In The Book of Real and Imaginary Girlfriends there are no wrong hands, thighs, tongues, lips, penises or vaginas. It’s all good it’s all right and up all night high on cough syrup or something similar and shameless and blameless in its unholy writhe.

    Eat this. It is good.
    –Misti Rainwater-Lites (rock star, author, porn star, poet)

  2. :

    5 out of 5

    This is the first book of erotic poetry for me. In fact, I don’t normally read poems, although erotic prose is a staple in my kindle. I read other books by this author, so I was curious. This left me speechless when I swiped to the last page. I wanted more.

    There were poems about life, and love, and sex. Very graphic explicit sex, I couldn’t believe it could be put in stanzas, but it was. Some made it hard for me to breath, some made my cry. When a book elicits this kind of reactions, you know it’s art. I am already having withdrawal symptoms now and again, so I find myself flicking back to this book in my kindle once or twice a day. And for me, there are only a few books like that.

    “Some say he is part comet. Others say he is shooting star. Behind his back they call him a sex addict. To his face they call him a god.”

    • (verified owner) – :

      out of 5

      Connie Cliff, thanks so much for the review. Getting an awesome review is always spectacular, but getting one from you–a writer I respect and admire to the fullest–is a special bonus on par with the joys of enthusiastic deepthroat.

  3. (verified owner) – :

    5 out of 5

    Having just discovered this book, because yes, I lived under a rock for most of my life and I’ve just crawled out into the daylight, I have to say, I am in love with it. As a writer of poetry for the last, oh, forever number of years and published in several blah. blah society’s annual poetry anthems, I can honestly say that this is the Kama Sutra of poetry. It is raw and uncensored, poetry that makes you feel and think. My heart broke at times and my heart rate sped up at others. MJ, who is the actual King of Literary Porn, has captured me heart, soul and body!

    • :

      out of 5

      How am I so lucky as to have a reader like you, Genevieve. That’s the nicest comment to find that someone likes my poetry. As you’re a poet yourself, you know that poets slave and get very little for all the thought that goes into a few measly lines. But getting your review/praise out of nowhere like this makes it all worthwhile! I love your line “this is the Kama Sutra of Poetry!” Thank you!

      One last thing, you were not under a rock. If you were you would have met me earlier because that’s where I keep all my work. I live in a sewer and must keep the pages dry, right?.

  4. :

    5 out of 5

    Required explicit reading for the #metoo era

    This was not an easy read in the #metoo era. Women could find this disturbing. I did. But this review isn’t intended to destroy the collection because I feel what it offers, especially in the metro era, is valuable.

    The title warns us that what we are about to experience is both real and imaginary. Does this refer to the events? The characters? Perhaps even the designation of girlfriend. None of the women in this collection could be construed as a friend let alone a romantic relationship

    This collection is about raw sexual encounters, sexual assault, rape, anger, objectification, degradation, humiliation. I feel this is entirely the point. Fantasies or not, the tales told are experiences by the narrator in some way, as we experience them ourselves.

    The narrator understands what is going on in this collection, clearly naming acts as humiliations and relishing in them. At one point he posits that he’s a sex addict, even a rapist. Frankly, he cheats, uses women, lies to them, discards them finding them boring after having sex with them. “Sociopath” might be more accurate.

    Descriptions of the collection likened it to Charles Bukowski, but I would include Walt Whitman and “Song of Myself”. Observe:

    “I’m the one to eat no matter how
    hairy the beave is! I’m El Chupacabra I’m Ra
    I’m the quetzal and the coatl
    I’m the smoking mirror
    the human sacrifice:
    the body flying down many
    pyramid steps.”

    That’s just beautiful, even from the same narrative voice that seems to see women’s orifices as dark black holes in which to plummet—to seek a relief that might also be produced by heroine or morphine? Very likely.

    We shouldn’t hope that every male voice is that of a nice guy, a guy who respects women, that doesn’t categorize them according to what they can do for him sexually. Women should read this as a view into the mind of a sexual predator. This isn’t a likable person and that’s perfectly acceptable.

    It’s the self awareness, the brief (and perhaps all too few) moments of clarity and self reflection. I craved more rawness, but such an expectation cannot be fulfilled with such an individual, who compulsively engages in rejecting intimacy.

    Perhaps that’s the only true insight we receive: we observe the obsessions, the constant need to degrade and manipulate and use. It emerges as a kind of panic for validation. Most definitely, as in the case of Amy, supposedly the one woman ever loved, she appears and disappears with so little focus and detail that we wonder if she even existed at all. Which I think is the point. True connection in this nihilistic sexual universe is fleeting and painful—caught between being real and imaginary.

    Real and imaginary: relationships that exist and yet aren’t relationships at all. I continually had the feeling that I was trying to talk on a cell but kept going through tunnels and dropped signal. Who is to blame for these encounters—what women would let men treat them this way, and what men would do such terrible things? A question asked with no answer. Perhaps the answer, the most vulnerable core of this book, is too frightening to answer.

    I give this book five stars because whether it’s the author’s intention or not, I felt something and respect the effort. Some of the language is enviable and gorgeous. It’s this excerpt that made me gasp, just like a teenage girl:

    “Some say he is part comet. Others say he is shooting star. Behind his back they call him a sex addict. To his face they call him a god.”

    Yes, a modern day Zeus who changed into a swan or a bull to go raping and spread his seed. MJ gets it. This is why I give the book five stars.

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