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Mark Toney Oct 2019
Green eggs, Spam and grits
Sam and Pam had their fill,
Then made their way to Main Street
Down WhoDat’s Whatsup Hill.

Waived "Hi!" to their neighbors
To show them that they cared.
All smiled except two who
Just stood there and glared.

Hulu Q Hopps and
His shorter half-brother
They came from two pops but
Shared the same mother.

Hopps came at them fast
So they quickened their pace
Sam and Pam flew past him,
Boy, this was a race!

Hopps huffed and puffed,
While shouting very gruffly:
"You better stop now, or
I'll treat you roughly!"

          "Just what have we done
           To make you so mad?"

"If you don't stop right now,
I'll do something bad!"

Pam and Sam finally stopped,
Turning right around,
Awaiting their fate while
Standing their ground.

Hopps wide-eyed and breathless
Finally stopped within inches
"Listen real closely now,
Your see Mr. Pinch is
Hot on your trail
Looking for retribution
Based on your failure
To give restitution."

          "We don't know what that means,
           We don't know what to say..."

"Doesn't matter at all,
Pinch is coming your way!"

Since Mr. Pinch meant
To slow cook their goose,
Pam and Sam agreed to do
What they learned from Dr. Seuss!

They asked all their friends
To lend them some help.
Eucalyptus, Betty Loo,
JaeJae and Miss Kelp.
Hortman, Octavius, and
Hopps stepped up to bat.
Even Kat came back
And threw in her hat!

Off in the distance
The Catawampas growled
And soon after that
The Terrormasu yowled.

Down came Mr. Pinch
From atop Mount Dumpit
In his impedimenta SUV,
Like it or lump it.

Rolling into town
Entering WhoDat's Square
Pinch shouted "Sam and Pam!
Are you hiding somewhere?"

"You must pay the piper,
I'm here to collect.
Excuses mean nothing,
Your pleas I'll reject!"

Pam and Sam stepped forward,
Friends forming a line.
          "Pinch, you won't get away
           With extortion this time!"

With that Betty Loo
Pulled out her didgeridoo.
The others pulled out
Their instruments too.

All began playing strong,
Singing loud and clear:

"You are hostile Mr. Pinch
And your breath reeks of stench
But we're stronger than you
So you can't make us flinch.
Mr. Pinch you are mean
So you better flee the scene
You're a ****** like no other, Mr. Pinch..."

They droned on and on,
A multi-stanza bonanza:

"You're a villain Mr. Pinch...

"You are ****** Mr. Pinch...

"You are nasty Mr. Pinch...

"You're a ****** Mr. Pinch...

"You disgust us Mr. Pinch...

Mr. Pinch screaming loud
With hands to his ears,
Made a beeline to his
Impedimenta SUV in tears.

Then Pinch did the math
Calculating the odds
He wasn't going to get
Anywhere with these clods.

"You haven't heard the last of me!"
Fist pumping as he shouted.
When he left, all WhoDat cheered,
Disaster had been routed.

Sam and Pam thanked their friends
In a way that befits.
A WhoDat picnic serving them
Green eggs, Spam and grits!
3/10/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - My tribute poem to Dr. Seuss. Special thanks for this poem's inspiration to Theodor Seuss Geisel, an American children's author, political cartoonist, and animator. He is known for his work writing and illustrating more than 60 books under the pen name Doctor Seuss. The lyrics in the above poem are my own, as are the names of the characters and locations, but they were inspired by "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," a song that was originally written and composed for the 1966 cartoon special How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The lyrics of that song were written by Theodor "Dr. Seuss" Geisel, the music was composed by Albert Hague, and the song was originally performed by Thurl Ravenscroft. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Am i happy with my body?
pinch pinch pinch
Will you smile to the mirror
Or make yourself sick?

Is anyone okay
With who they really are?
Is 100% even possible
Give me a sign if you are?

Am i disgusted with myself?
Yeah, maybe.
With so many flaws here and there,
But i guess its alright,
I happen to love my hair.
"Pinch the pink rose bud"*  He whispers

"ahhh mmmm"* she responds

"Harder dear one"

"ohhhoww" as the dark heat shoots through her body

"Yes that's it girl"

"Roll it between your thumb and forefinger"
"How does that feel girl?"

"Mmmss ohhh it feels so good"

"Pinch it hard now"

She cries out as the painful heat surges

"That's it, again now harder"

Calls out louder as the heat in the bud hurts but feels so decadent

"Take your other hand and slide your fingers between your rose petals"

She continues rolling the ****** as her other hand obeys His demand
Her fingers reach the nether lips and find them laden with dew
"Mmmsss" As the fingers slide through the moisture

"Slide your fingers into your well and pull forth what you find"*

Her hips lift off the bed as the fingers slip inside her tight wet well
the heat intense her tunnel soaking wet, how she wonders

"Pull it up over your little nub now and begin circling it as you continue to pinch that tight ******"

"OHHHHH ohhh yesss!!!"
It feels so good she wants to move her fingers faster but doesn't dare

"Circle Your **** round and round now pinch hard and hold it"

Gasping as she does so, her legs jump as the heat seems to stab her between her quivering thighs
Whimpering as desire washes over the ivory flesh, feeling the nectar as it flows between the cheeks of her ***

"What are you thinking girl?"

"How I wish you were here, How I want you inside of me so badly"

"Mmmm I wish I was there to girl"
"Now release your pleasure nub and begin to rub faster"

Fingers flutter over the taut nub, hips lift pushing into the fingers
Other hand continues to roll, pinch and pull the ******
He hears her moans, whines, and whimpers growing in intensity

"Lift your ****** to your mouth girl and suckle the hardness, I want to hear you, keep those fingers moving over that taut lil nub" He whispers sensually

Suddenly he can hear her mouth as it pulls upon her own ******, breathing through her nose as she ***** harder, fingers moving faster now as the passion begins to take over from his demands

"That's it girl, bite it hard as you ****, imagine my teeth against your chest"

Her scream is muffled by the large ample globe of flesh as fire shoots to her *****, nectar floods her well

"Yes my girl you sound so good, are you close" He asks softly

"Yessss" is muffled as she continues to **** and bite her bruised breast

"Rub harder girl, faster, I want to feel your release" He says firmly

Her fingers pinch and pull her **** as her mouth suckles on the breast harder pulling more of the flesh into her heated mouth

Tension builds, hotter, as body tightens, muscles grow taut, suddenly her breath holds, her body stiffens liquid shoots into her mouth from her ******, as the clear viscous fluid floods her bed

"Screaming yes oh yes oh **** yes"*  She cries

She hears him as he responds to her ******

"Yessss oh yes girl I am ******* you so hard, oh godddd yes here it
comess"


She hears him hold his breath as his body releases the slapping liquid sound is heard as her own body is still pulsating, muscles finally relaxing as fireworks still explode behind the closed eye lids

"You are so ******* hot ****, I can't wait to yank that long hair as I ram my hard **** deep into you"  He pants

"I can't wait either, I need you soon, please don't make me wait much longer" she begs

His wicked laugh is heard on the other end of the phone as He says firmly
"Now **** *** now"

Believe it or not she did, this time harder than before, thighs quivered where she could not walk, they were actually sore from the strain, she blushed at how easily he could get her to release

"It won't be long now girl, we will meet and you will feel my hand pulling those long locks as I push deep inside you, where you can taste the effect you have on me and I can taste your sweet essence"

"Oh yes I can't wait to be beneath you, on top of you, in front of you, I can feel your bites on my flesh already, I can feel your hard shaft opening me up over and over again, I can't wait"

"Yes that isn't all you will feel is it girl?"  He asked

"ummm no Sir" she shivered thinking of the sting of leather against her flesh, the feel of rope binding her tight, and the clamps all strategically placed to enhance her ******

"Sleep now My girl, naughty dreams"  He whispered huskily

"Sleep tight my Love" She responded softly
The pain scared her but she had experienced it before and the pleasure it brought was so all consuming words could never describe


****** pain can bring intense pleasure. I would suggest you not try things on your own without the guide of an experienced lifestyler.  This definitly enhances the ****** experience.  Not everyone is into it but I hope my poem did it justice
Written by : Jennifer Humphrey all rights reserved   Updated 1/31/15
Raj Arumugam Dec 2012
1
Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap


I love this dance you do
my dearies, each one of you
on your mobiles and devices
We too play with our fingers
and keep our eyes fixed
on your pockets and purses
and wallets

Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap

Stay diverted -
we love this what you do,
me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too,
that Artful Dodger

2
Come on, dear children of Fagin mine
this here is Paradise
All these people with eyes
and fingers on their devices
and brains in idle mode
in these crowded malls -
it’s our Paradise, dear babies mine
Whilst they are so preoccupied
let’s to our devices
And we can pick, pick, pick
whilst they tap, tap, tap

3
Ah ha, keep tapping on your mobiles
each one of you, my dearies
with your eyes on the mobile
when at the shops and in crowds
and at new year celebrations
Keep your eyes there, indeed
each one of you, my dearies
Tap, tap, tap
pinch and expand with 2 fingers on the screen
eyes mostly there on your devices
Tap, tap, tap
pinch, pinch, pinch
  
and  let your *******
burst like shooting stars
All like a dance, as in a dance
each one of you in public spaces,
my dearies
so do the merry dance of your fingers
and eyes on the devices
And we?
We love this, me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too
(that Artful Dodger)
while You
tap, tap, tap
and we
pick, pick, pick
at this our harvest at shopping malls
Fagin is that unsavory character from “Oliver Twist” by Charles Dickens who trains and bullies children into a life of pickpocketing and crime. Fagin, that “old gentleman”, would have loved our preoccupation with cell or mobile phones even when we are in crowded places - especially in crowded places.
Kirsten Lovely May 2014
He noticed the little things
Like how she would cry and grip the steering wheel
Pull over,
And pinch the inside of her palm
As if trying to reignite the fire that her tears put out
How she held on to her skin so tight
That the tips of her fingernails changed from rosy pink
To a suffocating and painful ivory
How she would cry and cry
And how she would wait until her palms bled
And how she sniffled one last time,
Wiped her palms on her pants
How every time she did this, she drove home silently
She noticed how he could not say a word
How he must be utterly repulsed by her
By how turned around she gets
He must not be able to react to her abnormal ways
Of dealing with copious amount of stress and anxiety
She noticed the little things
Like how he wouldn't know how to take care of her
How she was trapped
How she couldn't pinch herself out of this world
How she didn't want to die,
But simply cease to exist
How she knew she couldn't ask him to help her
"Can you pinch me out of this world?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"You're the only person I have that brings me back
When I sometimes pinch myself too hard."
They also failed to notice the larger things
Like how he held her in his lap
And let her pinch to make her stop crying
How she brushed his hair back when he couldn't stop
How they kept a box of tissues in the car for moments like this
When the other would need to pinch for a while
To make the crying stop
To deal with this abnormal way of coping with things
To make the other remember
That it might not be so bad to have someone to help you
Get out of a pinch, after all.
The uniVerse Sep 2016
I keep pushing myself to the extreme
keep indulging in the obscene
trying to break my mask
all this reality is just a dream
a dream about the past
I pinch myself so I will wake
a pinch of salt is all I take
a glimpse into the unknown
so I can escape this dream
this tapestry I have sown
for every illusion has a seam
where time and reality is stitched
but there are no maps
no one knows where or which
just a maybe or perhaps
so pushing boundaries is all I have
hoping something snaps
on to silence I try to grab
but echos are all I hear
a voice from my childhood
a little boy transfixed with fear
I don't know if I should
follow the yellow brick road
follow it all the way home
a pinch of salt to blind the witch
I pinch myself but still don't flinch
maybe Oz is all there is
maybe it was and still is
maybe because I willed it
if I designed it I can **** it
there's no more reason to pretend
take a knife to my imaginary friend
take his life so my dream can end.
Solaces May 2018
I could not find you in the woods..
With the moon as my light..
You were lost in seven thoughts..
Lost and out of sight..

Your light steps were fading..
Your stardust too..
Pinch harmonics and shadow voices..
Are coming through..

I see you looking toward the stars..
And then you look toward me..
Your eyes are filled with moonlight..
You shine and leave to the star sea..
Moments....
Jay  Jun 2018
Stupidest Things
Jay Jun 2018
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
Before long the summer sun will rise in London
Like the half of the Ge meets the other half.
Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin
The love flame hidden in the chest lights up!

Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light,
Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word,
Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light!

The summer in London will pop and sizzle
We will see a threshold in our land.
The rose for a while is tucked away
Off the winter and is given to the sun
Winter is not forever spring is on the corner
Come back in the sun with the early bird
Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path.

Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field
Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning
What on earth will it strike, will it dish out?
Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze.

Like a southern song singing on a dream scene.
a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon
a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all
a melodious raindrop in the serene pond
a butterfly dance on the rose
a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock
Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Ashly Kocher Mar 2019
Going to sleep
Waking up
Pouring coffee
Into your cup
Cream and sugar
Make it oh so sweet
Start your day
My mornings complete
Same routine
Everyday
Spice it up
Add a dash of flavor today
Pinch of this
Pinch of that
Today, I am on the right track
Going to sleep
Waking up
It all starts with you
Get ready, take the risk, and jump...
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Just a dew drop, let alone the sea,
and a handful of earth, not the Planet Ge.
Not a shade of blue, save the rose for bee
Purely a clear drop didn’t spill in the core,
because the whole sphere feels the pinch.

Singing chorus rains down, bouncing back
to earth the only open-through planet.
No black hole is as deep as the sun jumps,
dives in the dew on every flower they wet.
Every bird in the trees sings and tweets,
yet one is stone quiet, shouldn’t even hiss.
Shh! shh, the sleeping beauty is sleeping!

Cut above the rest, the unique earth
brimming with the infinite finishing line
by design pans out to the transcended pi.
Pure spring, the waterfront by the Moon,
untouched, unspoiled is her swimming pool.

How she goes by, wetting her ****** toe
Only to bubble high up the transcended circle
If only the sun could rise high in that pole,
for the rest of species could sneak a peek.
She’s there with the capstone of the pyramid!

Shots beyond the fixed circle, netting the eyeballs.
The stars, the Moon on the move for pure freedom.
The thrilled earth did come out, smelling of roses
Off the golden cut pi-decimal-abyss digital spring.
With a handful of earth and a drop of water dew
This is a pure mirroring thanks to the original, you!

At the end of the string apt you lovely took her by hand
and she took it in emptying her heart and soul.
Earth is now too thin on stock, she is no more
Just a shadow, a 360-degree hollow flute!
Oh light at the end of the tunnel shine and show
Play in like in the Night of Ascension once more!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Randy Johnson Mar 2016
Because I'm not wearing green on Saint Patrick's Day, a man gave me a pinch and I gave him a punch.
I hit that ***** so hard in the stomach that he lost his lunch.
About an hour ago, another man pinched me and I kicked him in the crotch.
He fell down and started crying like a two year old, he deserved what he got.
Nobody else had better pinch me for not wearing green.
I'll kick your **** if you pinch me because I'm very mean.
This is a fictional poem.
Bo Burnham  Mar 2015
A Final Wish
Bo Burnham Mar 2015
Cremate me, please
and sprinkle my ashes,

                    pinch by pinch
.                               on strippers' eyelashes.

— The End —