Donald Trump poetry


My name is Donald, no, I’m not going bald; that’s not a toupee, what a rude thing to say.”

Donald Trump’s often bizarre and frequently unsettling use of language has been a source of both amusement and horror to onlookers around the world. Yet, like many egomaniacs before him, his words have a strange aesthetic quality that seems to lend them to the form of poetic verse.

For a man who spins his own fictions and creates his own realities, moving into the world of poetry may not be a surprising career move for Donald (although, considering this is the man who moved from reality TV star and frequent failed businessman to become President of the United States, no career move should really be surprising). Yet it must be admitted that his creative writing ability may be impaired by his extremely limited vocabulary and the fact he thinks he can use “schlong” as a verb.

Within Trump’s crude and simple use of language, however, lies a natural poetic lilt. He speaks in compact, distilled phrases that tell you a lot about who he is – often in only a handful of words. His frequent use of declarative sentences and severe lack of complexity gives both his speeches and his tweets a natural staccato rhythm.

Like a child first learning to write and speak, Trump also repeats words and phrases again and again. While this primitive use of language may amuse many – particularly within the liberal metropolitan elite – these are the same linguistic qualities that give Trump’s words power.

By using simple sentences and phrases again and again – accompanied by sweeping generalisations and categorizing his ideas into simple groups (mostly “winners”, “haters” and “losers) – Trump is in some ways a natural communicator to the masses. People remember what he says and take away messages from what he says in a way they seldom do during the triangulated, euphemism-filled speech of most other modern day politicians.

How do we approach this power? How do we deconstruct Trump’s aggressive, misogynistic, racist, and, ultimately, stupid, turns of phrase into something else?

Well, here the best approach seems not to deconstruct it (spending too much time analyzing the babblings of an unhinged idiot is about as fun as trying to remove an ingrowing hair from your crotch with a pair of rusty tweezers).

Instead; it seems we may be best to reconstruct his words – keeping the same natural structures in his choice of phrasing, but mixing his quotes up, in a form of poetic collage, to create new poems and poetry.

We have done just this, exploring the aesthetic power of Trump’s nonsensical babblings about covfefe, and turning them into new forms.

You can read each of our poems below for free through the following links:

Nothing to hide 

So beautiful

Like, really smart

Humble pie

Thank you for listening

So that was my words


The beauty and complexity of Irish literature

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If Ireland is seen by some people in the world as some kind of romantic ideal, it must be seen only through the prism of eyes that have not seen news or history of the killings in the North, or how Irish women were considered far too lovely for contraception (and still today too lovely to be given the right to abortions). Ireland, far from being a mystic isle of pure beauty and tribal innocence, is – like so many countries – a land of contradictions and complexities.

Ireland’s greatest litterateurs have embraced these sometimes conflicting differences to create works of fiction that are as beautiful as they are in themselves complex; that do not shy from painting the horrors that have befallen the island at times, but find lyrical ways of expressing these to readers across the world. Irish writers write against their own foolishness and flaws as much as they do against those of their fellow countrymen or those of colonial invaders – and in doing so they find ways of expressing truths that are delightful and intricate and small; and thereby discovering beauty that is real and full of power and significance.

Perhaps the lyricism and beauty of Irish writing is in part down to the tradition of oral storytelling and poetry within Irish history, combined with the suppression of the Irish language itself during the centuries of British colonialism. With the brutal restrictions placed upon not just the Irish people themselves, but the very words and language with which they used to communicate, the British, in a way, created the conditions necessary for new forms of writing to emerge. Irish writing so often seems at times to be born from the fragmentation of old certainties, and the need to say important things in an almost coded fashion, so as to avoid discovery. Fiction and poetry – creative writing in general – play a crucial role in conveying meaning through indirect means (metaphor, allegory, etc.). And so, in the face of an increasingly restricted and complex reality, Irish writers created their own worlds – spun into life in the most beautiful, unique and creative ways.

In this view, Irish writers rise to a cultural prominence in which they are defined both by their creative genius and by their nationality. Their identity is absorbed by their craft, and the geopolitics of it. This is an idea captured by Sean O Faolain – a pillar of twentieth century Irish short story writing – who wrote:

“Irish literature came to its great period of effervescence in a romantic mood whose concept of a writer was almost like the concept of a priest: you did not just write, you lived writing; it was a vocation; it was part of the national resurgence to be a writer.”

In honour of these writers, we have brought together a far from exhaustive list of our recommended Irish books to read at any time; but perhaps most fittingly on St Patrick’s day.

You can read our book list here.

10 books to read on St Patrick’s Day


Curling up with a book (or doing anything with a book, for that matter) may not be how you would first think to spend your St Patrick’s Day.

A national holiday for the Emerald Isle which has been adopted by peoples across the world with no connection to Ireland but a keen desire to use any excuse to drink a lot and have a party, St Patrick’s day is perhaps more often seen as an obligation to drink Guinness and Whiskey than get au fait with some literature.

Sure, it can be a great lark to don some light-up shamrock earrings and drink your own weight in alcohol – but it’s also a fine idea to explore some of the country’s greatest books, both from the literary titans who shaped the modern novel, to those writing today (and all those in between).

If you’re feeling lucky this St Patrick’s Day, why not check out some of these crackin’ Irish books below:

1. Reading in the dark, by Seamus Deane

Reading in the darkIn strikingly lucid language and scenes fired by a spare, aching passion, Reading in the Dark combines the intimacy of a memoir with the suspense of a detective story. Seamus Deane’s poetic inclinations shine through in his debut novel, perfectly illuminating a coming-of-age story of an unnamed narrator in Northern Ireland. Deane captures the underlying, subconscious fears present throughout the course of the ‘troubles’ – where people live as “if they might explode any minute” and can be “disappeared”. Yet this is a pervading background to an essentially familial story, which contemplates love, religion, innocence, love and truth. And while answers to the novels questions come in bits and pieces, by the turn of the last page readers lives have been illuminated, washed in an elegant, graceful and forgiving prose.

2. Dubliners, by James Joyce

dubliners.jpgFrom (arguably) the king of the modernist movement, James Joyce’s Dubliners plants the reader in the heart of – you guessed it – Dublin. This collection of short stories explores everything from sexual awakening to loss in an attempt to depict the paralysis of the city he loves.

Rejecting euphemism, Joyce’s prose reveals the Irish in their unromantic reality – with fifteen stories offering glimpses into the lives of ordinary Dubliners.

Ultimately, Joyce’s genius is proving to all readers that Dublin is so much more than a tour of the Guinness factory (even if it is Paddy’s Day).

3. A Girl is a half-formed thing, by Eimear McBride

half formed thing.jpg“Definitely a genius” according to Irish writer Anne Enright, Eimear McBride transports you directly into her narrator’s mind and heart, making this experimental, award-winning novel totally unforgettable. A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing tells a sensitive and brutal story about the relationship between a young girl and her brother, as they navigate experiences of sexual violence, family crisis, and mental and physical illness.

In edgy, hazy, stream-of-consciousness prose, McBride introduces us to a host of well-drawn characters that appear taken directly from the streets and fields of Ireland – ranting, Catholic mothers, difficult brothers and a pervy uncles.

4. Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift

gullivers-travelsIn this epic fantasy yarn of a shipwrecked traveller, Swift directs a satirical fury against almost every aspect of early 18th-century life: science, society, commerce and politics. Second, stripped of Swift’s dark vision, it becomes a wonderful travel fantasy for children, a perennial favourite that continues to inspire countless versions, in books and films. Finally, as a polemical tour de force, full of wild imagination, it became a source for Voltaire, as well as the inspiration for a Telemann violin suite, Philip K Dick’s science-fiction story The Prize Ship, and, perhaps most influential of all, George Orwell’s Animal Farm.

5. Brooklyn, by Colm Toibin

brooklyn.jpgA beautiful coming-of-age tale set in the hard years following World War Two. When an Irish priest from Brooklyn offers to sponsor Eilis Lacey in America, she decides she must go, leaving her fragile mother and her charismatic sister behind. Eilis finds work in a department store on Fulton Street, and when she least expects it, finds love. Tony, who loves the Dodgers and his big Italian family, slowly wins her over with patient charm. But just as Eilis begins to establish her life in Brooklyn, devastating news from Ireland brings her back to Enniscorthy. Eilis is forced to choose between America and Ireland–and two men who embody these places–in the midst of the sweeping economic and social changes of the 1950s.

6. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, by Laurence Sterne

tristram.jpgAnother classic of Irish literature, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy ,Gentleman is a meandering satire of the life of antihero Tristram Shandy — a Don Quixote-type character who finds himself in one amusingly dire straight after another, and who somehow cannot seem to finish a story once he’s started telling it. The result is a kaleidoscope of storytelling, digressions, and characters as vividly imagined as those in any great fairy tale.



7. Waiting for Godot, by Samuel Beckett

godot.jpgOkay, so this is technically a play rather than a book – but you can still buy it in a book form, so it still counts!

Two homeless old men wait in a bare road with a single tree. They are in no particular time or place – nowhere and everywhere. Over two days they argue, get bored, clown around, repeat themselves, contemplate suicide, and wait. They’re waiting for the one who will never come. They’re waiting for Godot.

Vivian Mercier wrote in the Irish Times in 1956 that Samuel Beckett had “written a play in which nothing happens, twice”. This is still happening today – and it happens every time you pick up the book/play and read it, or go to watch it performed.

Beckett’s genius lay in creating a work that, more than half a century on, still speaks to audiences, particularly in troubled times (and boy, do we have enough of those today).

A perfect way to spend your St Patrick’s Day afternoon while you’re waiting for your friend to come back from the pub.

8. Young Skins by Colin Barrett

young skins.jpgAn exquisite portrait of post-millennium small-town Irish life – this short story collection features largely rudderless, misfiring young men as the principle protagonists, alongside young women cut adrift by society or circumstance.

Communities muddle through. Longings go unexpressed – and sometimes a fierce and jolting awareness flares up like wildfire on a damp rock on the edge of the north Atlantic.



9. The Country Girls by Edna O’Brien

TheCountryGirls.jpgBanned when it was published and burnt by the natives of O’Brien’s village (a question – how did they get enough copies to build a bonfire of books if it was banned?), The Country Girls has a purity to it that is only matched by how compelling it is to read. Simple in the extreme, it tells the story of Kate and Baba who have made it to Dublin from the deep and damp parish countryside and find that, in all the excitement, hypocrisy remains a constant. With Irish women on both sides of the border still struggling to fight for their rights, this remains an important book everyone should read regardless of what day it is.

10. The Granta Book of the Irish Short Story

granta.jpgA bit of a cheap win this one, as it holds within its pages some of the finest Irish writing from some of the greatest Irish writers of the last century. Lyrical, dark, comic and iconoclastic, the short stories encompass both the richness and the innate contradictions and challenges of Irish life.


Sylvia Plath on writing, and the complexities of life

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It is It is fifty five years since Sylvia Plath killed herself, in her flat in London, near Primrose Hill, in a house where William Butler Yeats once lived. She was thirty-one. Her two children, Frieda, age three, and Nicholas, barely one, slept in the next room. The details of her suicide are known most likely by everyone with a tangential connection to poetry – the rags and towels blocking the doorway; the oven; the two young children sleeping next door; the glasses of milk she left for them on the kitchen table.

In the months leading up to her death, she had published her autobiographical novel The Bell Jar, and completed a manuscript of her influential poetry collection, Ariel.

Both works have rightly contributed to the widely shared view of Plath as a creative genius. Robert Lowell, who contributed a forward, is said to have exclaimed, when he opened and read the manuscript, “Something amazing has happened.”

The feeling that Plath’s work has the capacity to be revelatory to both new and returning readers has never really faded. Yet the near mythicism that is attached to her death – and the frenzied period of creativity that seemed to lead up to it – have contributed to the almost stereotypical belief that all the greatest writers and artists must also be tortured souls who carry their demons with them.

This is an unhelpful view to hold, primarily because it risks diminishing the complexity of other human beings. In the case of Sylvia Plath, it risks simplifying her existence to a simple Wikipedia footnote – the idea that she is simply a tragic figure of creative genius and inner turmoil. But, as with all human beings; Plath is so much more.


While it’s impossible to forget or ignore how Plath died, the question that today has fresh urgency is how she wrote – and how she lived.

In 1975, nearly a decade before Plath’s posthumous Pulitzer Prize, Aurelia Plath, the poet’s mother, edited a loving selection of Sylvia’s letters to her family, published as Letters Home: Correspondence 1950–1963. Tucked between their lines is the enormity of emotion that animated the poet’s restless spirit.

Within these pages are glimpses of a character and a life so much more than a simplified summary that suits our inclination toward drama and tragedy. And they also show Sylvia as entirely human. For instance, at 17, she expresses such a feeling of invincibility instantly recognisable as that of a teenager:

“Somehow I have to keep and hold the rapture of being seventeen. Every day is so precious I feel infinitely sad at the thought of all this time melting farther and farther away from me as I grow older. Now, now is the perfect time of my life.

In reflecting back upon these last sixteen years, I can see tragedies and happiness, all relative — all unimportant now — fit only to smile upon a bit mistily.

I still do not know myself. Perhaps I never will. But I feel free — unbound by responsibility.”

In other letters, the young Plath speaks of the fears of growing older that also grip so many on the cusp of adulthood:

“At the present moment I am very happy, sitting at my desk, looking out at the bare trees around the house across the street… Always I want to be an observer. I want to be affected by life deeply, but never so blinded that I cannot see my share of existence in a wry, humorous light and mock myself as I mock others.


I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day — spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote.”

In other letters, she does express some sentiments of inner turmoil – of not knowing what she wants or if she ever will. But again, here, who has not felt such things? Read on:

“I want to be free — free to know people and their backgrounds — free to move to different parts of the world so I may learn that there are other morals and standards besides my own. I want, I think, to be omniscient… I think I would like to call myself “The girl who wanted to be God.” Yet if I were not in this body, where would I be — perhaps I am destined to be classified and qualified. But, oh, I cry out against it. I am I — I am powerful — but to what extent? I am I.

Sometimes I try to put myself in another’s place, and I am frightened when I find I am almost succeeding. How awful to be anyone but I. I have a terrible egotism. I love my flesh, my face, my limbs with overwhelming devotion. I know that I am “too tall” and have a fat nose, and yet I pose and prink before the mirror, seeing more and more how lovely I am… I have erected in my mind an image of myself — idealistic and beautiful. Is not that image, free from blemish, the true self — the true perfection? Am I wrong when this image insinuates itself between me and the merciless mirror. (Oh, even now I glance back on what I have just written — how foolish it sounds, how overdramatic.)”

Nonetheless, in her fears of the future, she also harbours a clear vision of hope in herself, as well as joy in the knowledge that the future is still hers – is still anyone’s – and that no individual must be entirely bound to any defined destiny:

“There will come a time when I must face myself at last. Even now I dread the big choices which loom up in my life — what college? What career? I am afraid. I feel uncertain. What is best for me? What do I want? I do not know. I love freedom. I deplore constrictions and limitations… I am not as wise as I have thought. I can now see, as from a valley, the roads lying open for me, but I cannot see the end — the consequences…

Oh, I love now, with all my fears and forebodings, for now I still am not completely molded. My life is still just beginning. I am strong. I long for a cause to devote my energies to…”

Even the way she signs off some of her letters to her mother speak volumes of her hope and love, as well as her happiness:

“Honestly, Mum, I could just cry with happiness. I love this place so, and there is so much to do creatively… The world is splitting open at my feet like a ripe, juicy watermelon. If only I can work, work, work to justify all of my opportunities.

Your happy girl,


In other letters, the subject of Plath’s writing is more mundane and perfunctory. At aged fourteen, she writes to her mother from summer camp:

“I am very busy, but not too much to write regularly to you,” she writes. “Last night I had three big helpings of potatoes (mashed) and carrots for supper and a scant helping of meatloaf as well as 2 pieces of bread and butter, 2 apricots & a glass of milk.”

And in others, she speaks intimately of her innate calling to the written word. In July of 1956, twenty-three year old Plath writes:

“Dearest Mother,

… Both of us are just slowly coming out of our great fatigue from the whirlwind plans and events of last month; and after meandering about Paris, sitting, writing and reading in the Tuileries, have produced a good poem apiece, which is a necessity to our personal self-esteem — not so much a good poem or story, but at least several hours work of solid writing a day. Something in both of us needs to write for a large period daily, or we get cold on paper, cross, or down… We are really happiest keeping to ourselves, and writing, writing, writing. I never thought I should grow so fast so far in my life; the whole secret for both of us, I think, is being utterly in love with each other, which frees our writing from being a merely egoistic mirror, but rather a powerful canvas on which other people live and move…”

What these letters clearly demonstrate is that there is heartbreaking tragedy and despair, it’s true: but there is also wholehearted exuberance. There is the hum drum of daily life and meals and eating; there is the excitement of life changing events; there is fear and there is hope; there is, simply, life.


Ever wanted to own your own bookstore? Now you can!


Attention all book lovers! Ever wanted to own your own bookstore? Well, now you can – and through a writing competition, no less!

From My Shelf is a small, independently owned bookstore in Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, USA. Year round, they welcome in-store shoppers to browse the more than 60,000 new and gently used books that they have in stock at any given time. They also host regular writing and book-themed events.

And now, they are offering you the chance to own the store and run it yourself. What’s more, it comes totally rent free for the first six months!

All you have to do is explain, in 250 words or fewer, why bookstores are important to the community. No business experience is necessary, and there’ll be no credit check or monetary deposite required. All you need to do is pay your US$75 entry fee and submit your 250 word piece (the money will be returned to you if you win, or if less than 4000 people enter, in which case there is no winner).

The grand prize includes 60,000 books, 6 months’ free rent, an in-place staff and free consultation from current owners Kevin and Kasey Coolidge. The deadline is March 31, 2018, and entry details can be found at

Nothing in the Rulebook’s Professor Wu says: “What’s not to love about this competition? In a world that so often appears to be ripping itself apart at the seams, in an era of massive globalization and corporatized capitalism, the relationship among readers, writers, publishers, independent booksellers is vital today, in an era in which it’s more important than ever to support community. When you think about all the ways in which an independent bookstore has impacted your life, don’t forget: we are as important to them as they are for us.”

While you’re here, why not check out some of the other fantastic prizes on offer to writers through our writing competitions page?

Lorrie Moore Reads Antonya Nelson


The New Yorker fiction podcast has a great episode up right now, with Lorrie Moore joining Deborah Treisman to read and discuss “Naked Ladies,” by Antonya Nelson, from a 1992 issue of the magazine.

Here’s an excerpt from Nelson’s excellent short story below:

“Laura Laughlin, 17, and her family attended the annual Easter frolic of the Houses, the family her mother worked for in Eastborough, Kansas, a rich, incorporated city in the middle of Wichita, while Laura’s father was away showing his paintings. Laura’s mother took care of the House children, especially 4-year-old Mikey, a Downs syndrome baby, leaving her own children to fend for themselves. Laura’s father refused any invitations to the Houses; he hated it that they called his wife Nana, and that she had to wear an ugly smock to work. Mr. House greeted the overdressed Laughlins in his tuxedo jacket and sweatsuit. In one room, there were drawings of nude women and one, oddly, of Laura’s father’s somber paintings. Laura wandered through the house, saw a pristine studio and compared it to her father’s cold and chaotic back-porch studio. She found her mother with Mr. House and Mikey, who had her mother’s wedding ring. He obviously played with it a lot. During the egg hunt, Laura and her sister found chocolates shaped like naked women, eggs with crude riddles. She told Pammy that Mr. House and their mother were having an affair. When her father arrived unexpectedly, she led him to her mother, carefully avoiding his painting. Her mother was asleep next to Mikey. As they left, Laura watched her father look at the nude women, and was surprised that his eyes skipped over his own painting. She thought that the nudes could be of her mother, done by Mr. House. They never speak about it. Her mother never went back to the Houses. Her father stopped traveling. Laura intercepted the letter that returned her mother’s wedding ring.”

Read the full article on the New Yorker 

Welcome to Jurassic book porn: an introduction to dinosaur erotica

taken by trex

Let’s not beat around the prehistoric bush. Dinosaur erotica exists, and it’s time you knew about it.

Now, there’s a real chance the two types of people reading this article will fall into extremely binary categories: those who have read dinosaur erotica, and those who are now a matter of seconds away from finding out everything you could possibly want to know about a literary sub-genre as extraordinary as it is obscure.

First things first: the basics

Simply put, dinosaur erotica sits within the larger genre of monster erotica (for that, think the vampiric eroticism of E.L. James’ Twilight-inspired fan fiction) – and is made up of books where humans have sex with, yes, dinosaurs.

Generally speaking, plots from the books focus on female warrior maidens in rabbit-skin bikinis and grunting cavemen being seduced by (or, indeed, seducing) a big male dinosaur.

Some of the book titles from within the genre give you a flavour of what to expect. They include Taken by the T-Rex, Space Raptor Butt Invasion, Ravished by Triceratops and Pterodactyl turned me gay. Okay okay, we know that pterodactyls aren’t actually dinosaurs; but this is a fact that doesn’t seem to concern the authors of the books.

Check out some of the craziest dino-porn books (with excerpts and pictures) here

In fact, it sometimes seems like the authors of these books aren’t even bothered by what specific species of dinosaur is performing x or y sex act on which human. The simple fact that there is a large scaly monster doinking your clichéd vision of a smokin’ hot gal or guy seems to suffice more often than not.

Indeed, in the timeless title A billionaire dinosaur turned me gay, by Hunter Fox (not his real name), nothing seems to matter beyond the fact that there is a billionaire dinosaur that is gay for humans (in this sense, perhaps Fox should be given recognition for writing a six word story that even Hemingway wouldn’t know what to do with). At just 15 pages long, readers receive little description of the prehistoric terror lizard apart from the fact that it is a vaguely “greenish-purple” colour and has claws and a penis. But who needs these details? All Fox seems to think readers require to get off to their dino-porn is a main character who’s father hates dinosaurs in positions of power (we can’t imagine what he’d think of Donald Trump or Theresa May), but who nonetheless succumbs to the striking, Christian Grey-esque allure of this financially savvy dinosaur. Observe:

“I grabbed the dinosaur’s cock with my hands and began rubbing it in circles while I sucked on its shaft.”

Ignore the fact that this line seems so awkward as to be describing something that may not be physically possible, let alone sexy or erotic – and instead concentrate on the fact that the main character is having sex with a dinosaur, and you may start to understand the appeal of this style of erotic fiction.

So, just how sexy is the dinosaur sex?

Of course, we know that the question you want answered as quickly as possible is whether or not the books are going to get you off or not. This isn’t just us being exceptionally gifted psychics – it’s just basic human psychology at work: after all, when a person opens a new tab on the internet, the first question anybody asks themselves is “can I masturbate to this?” And while we’re not ones to say what anybody should or shouldn’t pleasure themselves to, we will try to give an honest appraisal of whether or not the sex in dinosaur erotica is actually erotic or sexy.

Now, when it comes to writing about sex, we have some history in this area – trawling through the archives to compile the ultimate compendium of bad sex in fiction. Simply put, the sex described by the authors of these literary novels compared to that contained within the world of dinosaur erotica just does not compare.

We therefore thought the best thing to do in this situation was to compile some of our favourite quotes here below (and here, too). Make of these what you will:

“This grunting, grinding, growling lizard” – Taken by the T-Rex

“She caught the girth of its fat cock in her hands and drew it towards her body, increasing the area of nerve endings which were being stimulated. The T-Rex seemed to appreciate the gesture […] it seemed as if time stood still. There was nothing in the entire world apart from this grunting, grinding, growling lizard and Drin, wrapped around its cock. She managed to bring her legs up, locking her ankles around its wet dick as well, the entire length of her body becoming a cunt for this animal to fuck.


Unbelievably, Drin started to feel herself building up toward another intense climax. As she came, she clutched tightly onto the big lizard’s dick, her arms and legs tightening on the throbbing, red hot member. The Tyrannosaurus Rex yelled loudly as pints of white fluid shot from the tip of its fat cock. Once, twice, and then a third time the big lizard rammed its shaft against her naked body.”

“The great, scaly beast” – In the velociraptor’s nest

“A reptilian tongue, stiff and hot, dashed out to lick at the tender, naked flesh so suddenly exposed. Azog gasped at the touch, then gradually relaxed as her body warmed to the intoxicating sensation of the beast’s flesh against her own. She wasn’t sure if her arousal was because of her earlier thwarted climax in the cool stream, or if she was just desperate for one last pleasant sensation before being torn limb from limb by the great, scaly beast. Either way, Azog relished the rasp of its tongue, hot and rough, on her sensitive skin.”

“The raptor quickly slashed away the rest of her hide, watching with wide black eyes as the leather fell at her feet. It seemed to take its time, sniffing at her young hot body. Azog quivered with fear and desire. The cave was hot, and now sweat began to gather at her throat and glisten across her supple skin. She could feel every bead of sweat as it caressed her naked body, feel the raptor’s gaze upon her human flesh. Azog suddenly understood what she would have to do to survive. She offered her body, naked and yielding, sweaty and raw, moist hot and wet, as a sacrifice to the beast. Perhaps if she pleased it, she would be allowed to live. If not, she would leave this world as she entered it, naked and screaming.”

My billionaire triceratops craves gay ass

“Oliver’s* scales feel rough but pleasant against my face, a reminder of his beastly dominance as he takes my hands and pushes them back above my head.


I rub my fingers across Oliver’s toned abs, even more impressive than the last time I saw them on our family vacation to Greece.

“You’ve been working out,” I manage to say through the flurry of kisses.

“Dancing,” he responds. “It’s good for a dinosaur’s bod.”

From this angle I can see his incredible body, toned and muscular due to a rigid dance routine that could only be accomplished by the most disciplined of prehistoric creatures.


Finally, I’m just too horny to take it any longer. I pull Oliver out of my mouth and the (sic) desperately command, “fuck me right now, I need you in my asshole with that triceratops dick!”

Oliver shakes his head in mock disappointment. “What are we going to do with you? Such a nasty little human twink, you need a real dinosaur to show you how to fuck.


He feels incredible inside of me, now a seasoned gay lover who knows exactly where to thrust within a man. I can feel a prostate orgasm slowly creeping its way across my body, puling (sic) inside of me with more and more power until it finally explodes across me in a sensual wave.”

*FYI: Oliver is the protagonist’s pet triceratops, who makes it big in the city and becomes a burlesque dancer.

What do others think?

Whatever you make of the above examples, dinosaur erotica is undoubtedly an explosive phenomenon. Some of the best-selling authors behind the books (usually self-published) have earned so much from their craft that they have been able to quit their day jobs. With titles usually costing a couple of dollars on Amazon, online readers have not been shy to share their views on the works they have purchased.

We’ve compiled our favourite reader-reviews of dinosaur erotica for your viewing pleasure here.

Amazon reviewer Bang2Write, for example, says of Taken by the T-Rex:

“This is a fantastic story that really helped both myself and my partner to reignite some spice into the bedroom.

My partner has always loved dinosaurs from a young age and I myself love the idea of dressing up in different outfits and role-playing scenarios that could be considered odd.

Taken by the T-Rex has allowed us to fuel both of our less conventional, sexual desires whilst also giving us an interesting and gripping story to read. I could not a rate this e-book highly enough.”

Meanwhile, Guardian book reviewer, Damien Walter, has taken an alternative view on the qualities (or lack thereof) of Billionaire dinosaur forced by gay by Hunter Fox, writing:

“Perhaps the writing can be forgiven if there is an underlying meaning to it all. Indeed, it seems like there might be an important message about race and economic inequality hidden in this story about financially-savvy dinosaurs taking over the world. We learn early on that the main character, John, has a father who is a bigot and can’t tolerate dinosaurs in positions of power. However, if we follow the real-world analogue too far, it gets very questionable very quickly. The billionaire dinosaur is just as bigoted (“how do you think we as a species have risen so quickly to the top?” he asks rhetorically, apparently referring to all dinosaurs as a species), and John later comes to agree with his intolerant father. Awkward.

So I’ll be clear: A Billionaire Dinosaur Forced Me Gay has no intrinsic redeeming qualities. It is horribly written, morally questionable, and even the sex in it seems like an afterthought.”

Basic instinct

In summary, therefore, dinosaur erotica may not be the place to come for the highest calibre of writing (although it might just help you breathe some life into your relationship). Yet the popularity of the sub-genre – marginal and confined to the fringes though it may be – speaks to something that these books have to offer.

But what exactly is that?

Clarissa Smith, Media and Cultural studies professor at Sunderland University, suggests this type of erotic fiction speaks on some level to our basic human instinct. She says:

“There are a number of pleasures potentially on offer here – the fact that this is really fantasy. Even if there is evidence that dinosaurs existed, we don’t know masses about them, and they have mythological qualities. The idea of having sex with one is outside the realms of possibility. It’s a bit like ‘magic’, where all rules become suspended, and for that reason it may well allow … for kinds of imaginative risk-taking impossible in more standard couplings.”

If nothing else, then, the very existence of dinosaur erotica speaks to the incredible extent of the human imagination. And if this hasn’t convinced you to consider reading Ravished by the triceratops, then quite frankly we don’t know what will.

Dinosaur erotica: excerpts and pictures

If you’re reading this, it’s likely because you are as fascinated as we are by the quite frankly insane world of dinosaur erotica as we are.

We’ve already compiled a detailed introduction to the sub-genre that will help get you up to speed with the scaly, sexy goings on of this monster erotica sub-genre.

Now, we’re going one step further and giving you some of our favourite excerpts and book titles (with pictures, of course). Enjoy!

  1. My billionaire triceratops craves gay ass

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Synopsis: Jeremy was never quite sure about his feelings for Oliver, his gay pet dinosaur, until Oliver scores big and leaves home to pursue his dreams of being a dancer.

Years later, the two of them reconnect for dinner in New York City, and realize that there may have been more to their relationship besides prehistoric pet and master. Now a wealthy socialite, Oliver the triceratops is willing to take another chance on Jeremy, and soon the two find themselves locked in a passionate evening of gay human-dino love.

Juiciest Jurassic quote:

“The dim, romantic lighting is enough to make anyone look sexy, but Oliver has clearly aged beautifully. He was always a good-looking dinosaur, but the specks of grey that now dot his scales have added an air of self-assured beastliness. Oliver’s also dressed way been (sic) than he ever did when he was my pet, the cutthroat world of male burlesque doing a complete one-eighty on his previously tired fashion sense.”

  1. Taken by the T-rex

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Synopsis: Drin is her tribe’s chief huntress; she lives for the thrill of the hunt. Men and sex hold no allure for her, as Drin has never found a partner to satisfy her. When a T-Rex descends upon her village, destroying it, Drin demands that the tribe’s hunters go in search of the beast and slaughter it. Opting for safety instead of revenge, the tribe moves to a new location, hoping that the big beast won’t follow them.

It does.

Drin taunts the beast, giving her tribes mates time to flee. As she runs, leading it through a gauntlet of traps, the thrill of the hunt soars through her blood, leaving her wet with desire. When the angry T-Rex corners the huntress in a box canyon, it seems more interested in her wet womanhood than in her flesh.

Tightest Triassic quote:

“She caught the girth of its fat cock in her hands and drew it towards her body, increasing the area of nerve endings which were being stimulated. The T-Rex seemed to appreciate the gesture […] it seemed as if time stood still. There was nothing in the entire world apart from this grunting, grinding, growling lizard and Drin, wrapped around its cock. She managed to bring her legs up, locking her ankles around its wet dick as well, the entire length of her body becoming a cunt for this animal to fuck.”

  1. Ravished by the Triceratops

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Synopsis: Beliria’s pride has gotten her into trouble again.

Before she can complete her rites of womanhood and take her place in the tribe, she must provide a kill for her tribe. Beliria chooses to hunt the most dangerous herbivore on the plains, the Tri-Horn. No single hunter has ever successfully taken a Triceratops, but Beliria is determined to be the first. Naked, with no food, water, or provisions beyond her weapons, Beliria sets out. Tracking the Tri-Horn, she lays a cunning ambush, but it isn’t cunning enough.

Her attack caused the big bull Triceratops to lose his mate. Now he intends to replace her- with Beliria!

Horrified and aroused by the horned giant, Beliria must find a way to control the situation, or she may find that this Tri-Horn is really too much for her to handle.

Perfect pre-historic quote:

“It may have been the best sex I’d ever had, but I didn’t want to do it again.”

  1. Taken by the Pterodactyl

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Synopsis: Dianne is a shepherd, watching over flock of sheep. She is sworn to protect them against any predators– no matter the size. But when a flock of pterodactyls attack, Dianne has no choice but to use herself as bait to draw their attention away from her precious flock. One pterodactyl swoops in and picks her up, taking her to his nest. She fully expects to be eaten by the massive beast, but when it starts to peck her clothes away, leaving her naked, she begins to understand that the pterodactyl might have carnal pleasures in mind. Dianne finds herself excited by the prospect and acquiesces. But can Dianne accommodate such a massive creature?

Craziest Cretaceous quote:

“Don’t be so stupid,” she scolded herself. “What, are you going to live up a tree your whole life, getting fucked by a dinosaur?”

“She let out a heavy sigh; the idea was appealing, it just wasn’t practical.”

  1. In the Velociraptor’s nest

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Synopsis: Azog is an underappreciated cavewoman in her tribe. The cavemen treat her like a piece a meat. They disrespect her at every turn and never listen to anything she says. Azog cannot change this unless she proves herself as a hunter. When she goes out in search of fresh meat, she discovers a clutch of baby velociraptors and decides to kill them and triumphantly bring them back to her tribe. That is, until their father shows up and blocks Azog’s way out of the cave. Azog must use all of her womanly wiles to get out of the cave, which includes doing things she had never dreamed of.

Ravishing raptor quote:

“The raptor quickly slashed away the rest of her hide, watching with wide black eyes as the leather fell at her feet. It seemed to take its time, sniffing at her young hot body. Azog quivered with fear and desire. The cave was hot, and now sweat began to gather at her throat and glisten across her supple skin. She could feel every bead of sweat as it caressed her naked body, feel the raptor’s gaze upon her human flesh. Azog suddenly understood what she would have to do to survive. She offered her body, naked and yielding, sweaty and raw, moist hot and wet, as a sacrifice to the beast. Perhaps if she pleased it, she would be allowed to live. If not, she would leave this world as she entered it, naked and screaming.”

  1. Billionaire dinosaur forced me gay

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Synopsis: The year is 2014 and dinosaurs have gained control of the world economy due to exceptionally accurate stock predictions. After graduating from NYU with a business degree, John is hired to be the assistant for one of the largest trading firms on Wall Street. His boss, the CEO of the company is highly regarded as the best businessman of the century. Only difference is that he is a dinosaur!

Juiciest Jurassic quote:

“My father had never liked the dinosaurs ever since they began taking control of the world economy. When I was growing up he tried to condition me to hate them, too. I never did though. I thought that they had just as many rights as we did. They shouldn’t be punished because they had extremely accurate stock predictions in the eighties, becoming the single leading force of Wall Street presently. I was more grateful that Mr. Anderson (a dinosaur) was going to take a chance on me and let me be his assistant.

‘Yes Dad, he’s the dinosaur billionaire. He’s also my boss now so please don’t lecture me on them again.’”

  1. Space raptor butt invasion

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Synopsis: Space can be a lonely place, especially when you’re stationed by yourself on the distant planet Zorbus. In fact, Lance isn’t quite sure that can last the whole year before his shuttle pod arrives, but when a mysterious visitor appears at Lance’s terraforming station, he quickly realizes that he might not be so alone after all.

Soon enough, Lance becomes close with this mysterious new astronaut, a velociraptor. Together, they form an unlikely duo, which quickly begins to cross the boundaries of friendship into something much, much more sensual.

It’s not gay if it’s a man and a dinosaur, is it?

Craziest Cretaceous quote:

“I kiss Orion deeply, one last time. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in with me?” I ask.

“I don’t think it’s going to help your case,” the raptor replies. “I mean, some people just don’t understand that love is real. You’ve gotta put yourself in there (sic) position. They’re so used to everything working a certain way, women kissing men, men kissing men… not men kissing dinosaurs.”

  1. Mating with the Raptor

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Synopsis: Marga was the Protectress, the city’s leader, charged with defending it against dinosaur attacks. It is her sworn duty to protect her city at all costs, even when a pack of velociraptors attack her and her men at a small, undermanned outpost outside of the city.

The battle is a vicious one, and after a daring maneuver to save a fellow soldier, she finds herself trapped by the pack leader, a powerful male. The creature captures the Protectress and takes her to his cave. Will this raptor make the Protectress his next meal? Or does the beast have different plans for the beautiful warrioress?

Ravishing raptor quote:

“Marga looked down, and noticed the heavy green pouch hanging between the raptor’s legs… Her mouth gaped when she saw a pink mass emerge from it. Suddenly, the raptor began to move his hips towards her, punching the air with his swollen member that glistened in the light of the cave. In that instant, Marga understood, though the reality was hard to grasp… The thought disgusted and terrified her.”

  1. Dino park after dark

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Synopsis: Dino Park houses the New Dinosaurs- beasts created by scientists from residual DNA. The park is open to the public, who come to see the big carnivores and the classic, well-known herbivores. Smaller, gentler dinosaurs perform for the public.

Maria trains the marine reptiles- she’s been working with the same plesiosaur for more than three years. He’s friendly, well trained, and greedy. One night, Maria stays late to feed her plesiosaurus and disaster strikes- she tumbles into his pool.

The plesiosaur isn’t just greedy, he’s hungry. The only one of his kind, he’s been lonely and amorous for years. But now Maria, the human he’s imprinted on, is in his element and he’s got a lot of pent-up frustration to work out.

Tightest Trirassic quote:

“Maria thought that perhaps the creature was going to lift her from the water and save her, she felt a bump from behind. Holding the platform with both hands, she kicked and kicked until her pants, along with her panties, slipped down her legs and joined her shoes at the bottom of the murky water. Suddenly, she felt something thick and large between her legs – a dinosaur. She couldn’t understand what she was feeling. She had no idea what it was and she didn’t have the strength to hold herself above the water while she looked. The large stiff object slid between her thighs and prodded at her vagina. Whatever it was, was thick and hard and although it had a knot on the end. A thickly rounded bell shape that pushed inside her. It was big. Bigger than any man.”

  1. Spinosaurus wet dreams


Synopsis: Sheila has been having strangely erotic dreams about a Spinosaurus. She can’t seem to go to sleep without dreaming about it and then waking up completely aroused. How is this going to affect her work performance and how is she going to handle her growing sexual desires when her boss happens to be a Spinosaurus himself?

Craziest Cretaceous quote:

“The mud would help cover up her scent. It was nice and cool as she smeared it on, helping to ease the heat of the humid morning, and felt strangely sensual as she rubbed it all over her firm, young breasts, down her toned belly, and even between her legs. Sheila made a note that she would have to experiment with this some more at a another time when her life wasn’t in danger.”


Like what you see? Check out what others are saying about dinosaur erotica in our compilation of real-life book reviews

Head on over to our ‘sex in fiction’ page for all your erotic literary resources 








Dinosaur erotica: what the reviews say

We’ve delved deep into the frankly bonkers world of dinosaur erotica as part of our ‘sex in fiction’ series. Now, not only can you find out all you need to know about this literary phenomenon through our in-depth introductory guide, but you can also get an insightful glimpse into this monster erotica sub-genre of literary erotica through our helpful collection of excerpts from some of the most famous dino-erotica book titles (with pictures, of course).

billionaire triceratops

But while dinosaur erotica can make millions of dollars for its authors, what do the people actually buying the books think of them? To find out – and to help you if you’re considering purchasing a couple of these books yourself – we’ve compiled some of our favourite reviews from the readers of dino-erotica themselves. Check them out below!

“Dinosaurian magic” – Richard W Girdwood 

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“After reading Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park I was left feeling scientifically fulfilled but emotionally distraught. Now I know why.

I have to recommend this most heartily. I was transfixed by the subtle arrangement of words into a tale of lust, so much so I struggled to read for more than say, 2-3 minutes at a time, often having to take short breaks between reads to recompose, arrange short expeditions to find edible berries, spear neighbour’s dogs and clean up the Kindle.

Needless to say those 2-3 minutes were spent deep in the mindset of a caveperson, wondering what dinosaurian magic might come next. After reading this literary wet dream I wouldn’t mind a Velociraptor opening my door handle at night!

I would love to see her branch into other forms of prehistoric erotica, such as ammonites and giant sloths, or fantasy creatures. Cthulhu with his many tentacles comes to mind. Bravo!”

Something about the description of this mid-sized dromaesaurid was getting me hot and bothered” – VelociFAPtor

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“I was at a stagnant place in my love life when I purchased this book. I hadn’t been able to get aroused by the usual erotic novels that women like me take a common liking towards, so I was just taking a shot in the dark with this book. I’ve always been a fan of Dinosaurs but never knew how much I truly loved them until I got to page 3 of this masterpiece. I began to feel wet immediately, something about the description of this mid-sized dromaeosaurid was getting me hot and bothered again. I was hooked as if they claws of the reptilians in this book had reached out and touched me with arousal themselves. Trust me ladies, weather you’re a hardcore dinosaur fan or just mildly amused by the film “Jurassic Park”, this is not a book you want to pass up. “In the Velociraptor’s Nest” will give you that pleasant sensation you’ve been looking for and you’ll find yourself relished for the rasp of a raptors tongue. I give it 5 out of 5 stars.”

“Shouldn’t have been hot but it was” – Author K Webster

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“Wow! This story shouldn’t have been hot but it was! Marie was such a naughty girl with the dinosaur! Will they have mutant babies???? Jim is a perv but I liked his character and wish he got his chance with her too. I will read more by this author.”

“Tale of aerodynamic arousal will warm your heart, and groin” – John H 

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From start to finish, this piece is reminiscent of a controversial episode of animated classic, “The Flintstones”, in which a similar thing happens involving Wilma and the garbage disposal. While they resolved to replace the disposal (prompting the comment “I guess I’m getting disposed now!” and a humorous wap-wahhh sound), in this book they go a different direction: a very arousing one.

Easily the highest point of this book (no spoilers) is when they’re up in the air, though while the shepherd is on the ground is by far the low point. It has its up and downs, but this tale of aerodynamic arousal will warm your heart, and groin.

I will admit, though: you’ll never look at your local museum the same again. I walked by the dinosaur exhibit, and whispered “Pterodactyl? More like tear-me-dactyl…” and licked my lips while walking away. The lip-licking was due to being out of chapstick, but you get my point.

“A lot of unanswered questions” – LCisMe

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“This story was short and lacked character development. WHY was Dianne taken by the pterodactyl? Why did the pterodactyl keep her? And how will she survive in his nest? This story left me with a lot of questions, and I don’t think the author is planning a sequel.”

“The Wuthering Heights of Billionaire Gay Dinosaur Fiction” – Liam Pierce 

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“I strongly recommend replacing the word “his” with “his billionaire dinosaur” at every opportunity. It puts you that much more in the moment.”

“Having sex with a dinosaur would be a lot of fun” – Daniel Michael Cowan

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“Not only does Dr. Tingle paint a vivid picture of the future colonization of faraway moons and planets, he also really drives home the message that having sex with a dinosaur would be a lot of fun.”

“Makes a great retirement gift” – 

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“I thought this was going to be just like every other book of gay dinosaur erotica, but I was so wrong! If you ever read 50 Shades of Grey thinknig, “If only the mysterious billionaire was a homosexual dinosaur…” this is the book for you. You’ll bite your nails as you wonder whether the two characters will get together, you’ll cry as they talk about past pains, and you’ll shiver with delight as author Chuck Tingle turns up the heat.

Now that Kindle allows you to give books as gifts, this becomes the perfect gift for your favorite new graduate, your best friend’s birthday, or a pair of newlyweds who could use some steamy reading in their honeymoon suite. It even makes a great retirement gift, saying, “Yes, you’re old now – but dinosaurs are ancient and they’re still getting it on.””

T.S. Eliot’s letter of advice to a sixteen year old aspiring writer

“Nobody ever became a writer just by wanting to be one,” literary giant F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote to his fifteen-year old daughter in 1936. Sixteen years later, an aspiring young author, born in that year, called Alice Quinn reached out to T.S. Eliot – by that point one of the most famous writers in the world – in search of advice and guidance. The sixteen year old asked the poet who masterminded The Wasteland whether he could answer questions about the creative process, and – since nobody just “becomes” a writer – how he himself developed his poetic sensibilities and skills.

While Eliot was not known for responding to fan letters, something about the young woman’s earnest inquiry touched him. His warm, wry response, full of writerly wisdom, may be his most direct statement of advice on writing. It was only ever published in Hockney’s Alphabet — a lovely and perhaps sadly forgotten 1991 charity project raising funds for AIDS research through short essays by famous writers about the letters of the alphabet, each illustrated by artist David Hockney. Eliot’s response to Alice Quinn — the only posthumous contribution to the volume — appears under the letter Q.

Four years after he received the Nobel prize for literature, Eliot writes to the young writer:

Dear Miss Alice Quinn,

I do not often answer letters, because I am too busy; but I liked your letter.


I cannot tell you how to concentrate, because that is something I have been trying to learn all my life. There are spiritual exercises in concentration, but I am not the person to teach what I am trying to learn. All I know is that if you are interested enough, and care enough, then you concentrate. But nobody can tell you how to start writing. The only good reason for writing is that one has to write. You ask seven questions. No one event in one’s childhood starts one writing: no doubt a number of “events” and other causes. That remains mysterious.

My advice to “up and coming writers” is, don’t write at first for anyone but yourself. It doesn’t matter how many or how few universities one goes to, what matters is what one learns, either at universities or by oneself. My favourite essay, I think, is my essay on Dante, not because I know much about Dante, but because I loved what I wrote about. The Waste Land is my most famous work, and therefore perhaps will prove the most important, but it is not my favourite.”

At one point in the letter, Eliot reflects on an accusation and criticism levied against the poet – that his work is elitist and exclusive. On this question, he reflects:

“I am interested to hear that Kunitz & Haycraft say that I prefer to associate with Nobility and Church Dignitaries, but I like to know every sort of person, including Nobility and Dignitaries. I also like to know Policemen, Plumbers and People.”

He returns to the subject of how one grows equipped to be a writer:

“One does not always need to know a subject very well in order to teach it: what one does need to know is How to Teach Anything. I went to a very good school (which no longer exists) in St. Louis, Missouri, where I was well taught in Latin, Greek, French and elementary Mathematics. Those are the chief subjects worth learning at school; and I am glad that I was well taught in these subjects, instead of having to study such subjects as T.S. Eliot. At the University I studied too many subjects, and mastered none. If you study Latin, Greek, French, Mathematics […] that is the right beginning.

I like living in London, because it is my City, and I am happier there than anywhere else.

With best wishes,

T.S. Eliot”

Complement T.S. Eliot’s timeless wisdom with some of our collected writing tips; for writers, from writers.