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 Nov 2015
Sam Temple
the CIA will never make the money off ******
it made off *******
******* is for parties
dance clubs
good times in social settings
******, not so much
dark alleys with ***** dealers
selling black tar
to hopeless souls
Mexican mules with **** cavities
brimming
carrying kilos into Nogales
or maybe Calexico
bow legged and sweating
just 35 more trips and sweet little Consuela
can be an American
until Trump gets his wall –
article after article relaying tragedy
the poor, lost in addiction
desperately seeking a coping mechanism
something to stem the tide of despair
and general malaise
dead in their prime
over a twenty sack
and low self-worth….
many friends and family this same tale…
some folks heritage is in ranching,
thousands of head of cattle
driven across the open plains
grandfather to grandson,
uncle and cousin….
others,
political dynasty
papa congressman
and auntie judge
but not mine –
the crest of my tree looks like the biohazard symbol
as generations of drug addicts litter the undergrowth
their weight attempting to hold me
lock me into familial history
unfortunately or fortunately
my will, and recognition of god’s power
flowing within me, as it..
I am my own master
and free to fashion my branches
to whatever my liking desires –
undercover government agents line street corners
whispering illusionary tales of release
stories of becoming void of pain
parables relating a free mind
to personal freedom
through chemical alterations
I whisper back
“I bet my **** is delicious,
wanna taste?” –
 Oct 2015
Mike Essig
When I go out,
my cat sprawls
on the carpet and
dismisses me with
a half-opened eye.

When I return, I
find him in the
same disdainful
posture.

But I imagine that
when I am gone
he calls his cat
buddies, they come
over, drink beer
and whiskey,
smoke cigars, play
poker and watch
kitty ****.

Small wonder the
poor beast needs
so much sleep.

  ~mce
 Oct 2015
Kush
I have experienced a schism from mankind
Alone and adrift in the cosmos of my mind
My acension from life has made me anew
False happiness no longer leads me askew
Rage-filled memories are held with great retention
For this rupture has led to a dark dessension
With glorious hate, I take my last mortal breath
I am a soulless and vengeful shadow
Something akin to Death
 Oct 2015
Meghan Letson
If the Devil had a friend,
Who would it be?
Would it be you or
        would it be me?
You played with a top,
but you left it there spinning.
My mother's darkest hour
         became my beginning.
You abused her, ***** her,
and used for game.
Now because of you
         I'm the embodiment of shame.
A man has a job
to do what is right
but you'd rather crush souls
          and play as you'd like.
So I ask again, If the Devil had a friend,
who would it be?
Would it be you?
           Because I refuse for it to be me.
There's a thin line between right and wrong,
And now Nineteen years have gone.
I've cried and been angry
           but it all left me empty.  
A child can not pay
for the sins of the father
so I refuse to feel shame
            for what you did to my mother.
If the Devil had a friend.
Who would it be?
Would it be you?
Or would it be me?
 Sep 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Another Day
Another dollar
That's what I get
For, I'm blue collar
Working hard
For all the bosses
Sitting upstairs
In the office

Grab a coffee
On the way
do the same stuff
every day
nothing changes
It's routine
That's the way
It's always been

I am just a working man
Doing the best job that I can
Nine to Five, or Eight to Four
Do my eight and out  the door
Loading trucks to hit the road
Get 'em out with a full load
Doing just the best I can
I am just a working man

Twenty minutes
and two breaks
That is all
The time I take
Sneak a smoke
When I can
This is the life
Of a working man

Old and rusted
two tone truck
Always busted
Just my luck
Working hard
To make a dollar
It's the lot
of a blue collar

I am just a working man
Doing the best job that I can
Nine to Five, or Eight to Four
Do my eight and out  the door
Loading trucks to hit the road
Get 'em out with a full load
Doing just the best I can
I am just a working man
 Aug 2015
Edna Sweetlove
This is one of Barry Hodges' most inspired memories.

  'Twas morning time in times of yore and I, bold Barry Hodges, stood outside my store, my giant vegetables on display for all to see, when lo and behold! a luxurious limousine drew up, and from the back there emerged a gorgeous form of voluptuous statuesque feminity.
  "My God!" I cried, it is that beauteous lady from *La Dolce Vita
, the wondrous Anita - and I gazed with joyous on her divine body, imagining it sprawled lasciviously in my bed, legs open as wide as a major road junction on the M1 motorway.
  "Excuse me", said she in that Italo-Swedish voice guaranteed to make any man wet himself copiously, "But I am a-lookink for a shop a-called 6B, and yet all I can-a-see is a Barry Hodges' the Master Geengrocer's, complete with a giant cucumber or two, which I 'av to say remind me of somet'ing tasty."
"Dearest lady, said I, you have come to the right place: 6B is the trading name of my sister enterprise: Barry Bodgers' Boil Bursting Beauty Bureau which is located upstairs, Barry Bodgers at your service, my dearest, most delightful Fru Ekberg."
"Shhhhhhhhh! I am een deesguise, not even dear Federico knows I am-a-here." And thus, assuring her of my utmost discretion, and forming a bond by saying that I too, the famous Geordie seducer, Barry Hodges, had indulged in a slight nomenclatural change in order to separate the two sides of my business interests, and in order to do a spot of money laundering on the side.  "But," I enquired, "How is it that you have need of the rather specialised medical services we offer, you who are so radiant and bella-bella?" She lowered her eyes seductively and promised to reveal her terrible secret.

As I ushered her up the stairs to the studio, my eyes on her ****-cheeks wiggling like two delectable beach ***** in a sack, she told me the sad tale of the immense boil which kept recurring on the middle of her back and which no amount of corrective surgery could fix.
"Aha!" I exclaimed, "Only Barry Bodgers, the world's greatest boil-sucker, can effect the cure for which you long, and I shall operate on you personally, not entrusting such a task to even the best of my boil-bursting minions." I added to myself, "Also I want to give you a good old bonking while we're at at."

Once we attained the privacy of my consulting room, I instructed her to strip off utterly so I might examine her, and I can tell you, dear reader, that her **** **** was a joy to behold. I too divested myself of my clobber, knowing that boil-******* can get a bit messy at the best of times. Jesus wept!, but the mighty boil betwixt her graceful shoulders revealed when de-plastered was a true horror, with a yellow tip as big as a Grade One Belgian Turnip. I explained that I would **** it out whilst I rogered her from the rear and that, when she felt her ****** on the way, she should scream out to that effect and I would then bite the core of the boil right out in a blaze of mutual ******* glory, before applying a dose of my exclusive Boil Preventative Cream, namely a handful of our conjoined love-juices extracted from her gaping ***** by hand a few seconds earlier.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" screamed the Swedish bombshell and with a mighty **** like an industrial Dyson FX334 on full power, I slurped and  razor-bit the boil, bursting it asunder, smothering my eager face in blood and putrid pus, thereby causing me to blow my *** as ne'er before. The green core of the boil emerged from its fleshly cavity with a deafening plop as we came together like a nuclear blast d'amour.

O, but only then, as my seminal outpourings soaked my jim-jams, did I awaken to discover yet another nocturnal emission. And, not unexpectedly, dear Nurse Nellie, having heard my cry of ecstasy, rushed in to my bedroom, head-shaking and tut-tutting as usual, as she knelt down and licked my tum-tum dry.
"Yum, yum" she murmured in her dulcet Northumbrian tones, "Ah've looked after three generation o' Hodges laddies, and I kin tell ye, your *****'s the tastiest of them all, ye bonnie wee man."
"Better than Grandad Charlie's?"
"Why aye, mon, yours is well creamier."
 Aug 2015
David Ehrgott
I'm sorry
I didn't mean to trick you
into believing that life might
have an ugly side
no, no, no

Life is nothing but sunshine and butterflies
Watch as they flutter
Against blue sky
And the greens of trees and grasses
Yes, that is nice

Life is a wonderful place
Where
All the happy clowns dance and smile
And there is a pony just for you
On your special day

Because little girls
Always get what they wish for
And a dream only stays a dream
Until the wish becomes fulfilled
Because that' is life

Double ones deserve at least that,
to know that nothing could ever harm them
And that everything is grand
A never-ending happiness
with double rainbows
 Jun 2015
Edna Sweetlove
Recession, what recession, I couldn't care a jot
You should check out all the money that I've got.
I don't need to work as my Dad's a merchant banker
And he's a fat cat too, what a greedy ******.

I look out my window to see the peasants grovel
In the dirt, starving in a filthy Council hovel;
I just sit and smile and sip at my Laurent-Perrier.
Long live capitalism, I just couldn't be any merrier.
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