Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Johnny walker Jun 29
Time skips me by while I'm drinking coffee In my local cafe my head In the clouds I'm miles away lost deep In thoughts of all my
yesterday's
Memories flooding my veins and vision filling my head of days gone by that never will be again the clock on the wall Its continuous
ticking
For everything else around me seems to have stood still
Its as If myself and the clock are the only ones moving
for everything Is frozen In
time
For I know one day that clock
will stop ticking for me then Its I who will stop moving and everything else around me
will start moving again and
I
will go to the place of the forgotten for time will have been called on me and the world soon forget of
me
When the moon was coming

I saw the wolf passing

Through the grain slipping

I am in my control staying

I said to myself whispering

Why does this creature like the wolf came?

What is the wolf doing?

Answer me my beautiful kids

I wait and still thinking

Till the wolf came creeping

The ****'s eyes were opening

The wolf came guessing

That he was almost disappearing

He was till slipping

Then he stood looking

The **** was then standing

He lowered the jar watering

The wolf was completely wetting

He ran with fearing

The **** disappeared at a moment

The wolf looked and gazing

The universe was all dark and silent

He dried himself and returned

The **** shouted at all guards

"Thief" there is thief stealing

They came all running

They were surrounding and hunting

Soon his clothes were tearing

He returned with deep feeling

That he can't came and robbing

He said "I was deceiving"

The **** was waking
the guard must open his eyes and get awake through his job
Purcy Flaherty May 2018
As I enter the arena and the blood sport begins;
I gaze around the room, at the fighting *****, all dressed in battle trim.

Angry eyes telling tails, chests puffed out,
**** and ****** feathers scattered to and fro, spurred on by spite...

Amidst the bitter cries; and angry beaks;
talons rip and wound again and again until the match is over
and everyones a loser;

Even the hen!
Inspired by **** waving & cockfighting.
Martin Narrod Jan 2018
The Holy Ones


I want to shove socks in my pants, so it looks like I have one of those Italian-line painting *****. I want to do it when I go to the grocery store so fourteen-year olds and thirty-year olds alike stare at my junk as it fills the stitches of my pelvic arena, I want to make eye contact with mothers and grandmothers, brothers and dads as they shift uncomfortably in those handicap battery powered carts that are reserved for the handicapped but are often only used by the near-morbidly obese, near because they’re not quite dead yet, morbid because they can’t help but imagining my **** sliding past their tongue and what it feels like as the tip pushes past their uvula and they gasp for air through their nose because they’ve never had a **** like this in their mouth before. This would be my **** ****. This would have me making lists of adult film star names for film star jobs I’d never take because I’d be busy making lists of phone numbers, the college girls I’d have my pick of *******, and the mothers and grandmothers who I’d be happily turning away from while I select my own organic radishes from the produce department at the specialty market on Vine. This **** is better than a rolled up wrapped stack of hundreds or the leather jacket I had in high school, it’d be better than when I walked down Michigan Ave in Umbro Valentino donning a Parisian accent, I can see me having to buy new briefs just to make room for this ****. And my own **** getting jealous of the girth I’d be faking it’d swell up, and in the middle of ordering my four-pump Vanilla Almond milk Latte from Starbucks my gray wool socks would fall to the floor, and up from the band of my Acne Jeans would bulge the tip, just the tip, like she said when I was in college, or just the tip like I said when I just needed to feel something other than how emotionally wrecked you made me feel when you told me not to touch you anymore. You ****** me up righteously. And still, 380 women later, I’m ****** up and I don’t have a single pair of socks to wear
I convinced a man he could prune his own ****.

That if he spliced it just so,
two little pink shafts would sprout in it's place.
Wriggle themselves growing into two separate fully functional phallus.
And I watched him.
As he reluctantly reached for the shears.
And went through the five stages of grieving.

"There's no way this will work.

******* for telling me this secret!

can't I just take a pill to grow a second **** without having to cut this one off?

I don't think I can live without it..."

but just think, I reminded him.
after you do this.
You're gonna have TWO *****.

"I'M GONNA HAVE TWO *****!"

TWO *****.

And with almost no other thought, reasoning or belief.

He closed the shears



He opened his eyes.

His flaccid privilege laying there.

"When does the growing start?"
He asked me, pained.
His big brown eyes swelling.

"It doesn't."

"WHAT?"

"I lied to you, it doesn't grow back."

"It doesn't grow back? Not even one?

"Not one, not two,
no **** for you. I lied."

"Lied?"

"Lied."

it was easy,
to convince him.
Just had to promise he'd have two times the power in the long run.
If he risked it all right now.
Eric Martin Dec 2016
Oh ****
I'm out of luck
This really *****
I am stuck
how did I get here?
In my own muck

I am held down by locks
But my mind is still sharp as a fox
But I think instead I'll rub my *****
To get off my Rocks
And then wonder if I am queer?
Because I like the look of my own stocks

Now all there is left to do is cry
And wonder that this is what I do instead of try
While I am asking why
Even though I got here with my lies
I wonder if any one will hear?
My rattle as I die
The Good Pussy Nov 2015
.
                                   Gobble
                              Gobble Gobb
                             Gobble Gobble
                           Gobble Gobble Go
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                              Gobble Gobble
                    Gobble                   Gobble
              Gobble Gobble      Gobble Gobble
            Gobble Gobble Go bble Gobble Gob
               Gobble Gobble      Gobble Gobble
                     Gobble                    Gobble
Next page