I've met myself a potatoist
She claims she is, so all over it
She likes potatoes, she said she does
If she eats too many she goes all a buzz
I'm not really sure how the subject arose
I only just know, that it did, I suppose
Potatoism is the word that she said
A potatoist eats potatoes and potatoism will spread....
Jelly, my Granddaughter, is the young Potatoism Potatoist.
Got to love a new word....
Brian Hill - 2020 # 22
Love new words coming from the grand children!
Pour down upon me
Fill my nose with your scent
My eyes with your cascading droplets
My ears with your pitter-patter
My hands filling to become small pools
My mouth with your refreshing and cool take-over
Then release me
Make me wild
Laughter erupting from deep within
O, what a wonder!
O, what a blissful time!
Bring me life
Make me anew
- Jay M
October 22nd, 2019
captures it's prey, then eats it,
swallowing it whole.
I take a bite.
The taste, it's sweet.
The texture, it's crisp.
I take another bite.
The taste, it's grand.
The texture, it's great.
I take a third bite.
The taste, it's old.
The texture, it's the same.
I take one last bite.
The taste, it's gone.
The texture, it's nonexistent.
Why do I do this to myself?
I guess that's just the way the cookie crumbles.
spongy tapped that dire tweet
and made it tweak a moonlit sky
with this teacher in a spoon
found thus in online game room
these warriors again hit their speed with such utterance
that sought a time still learned of design though what suspiciously
in their console as it made their jobs shine
in matter of moments these ones start
as friendly their epilogue in neighborhoods
that peace has proffered reward again
while tonight they'd emblem cursed fate
a tutor in remorse
plays a different song
depending on your mood.
So I make you turn sour grapes
and suddenly Jimmy Eats World
hits the speakers.
I wait; nothing great ever happens.
Blame it on me,
as I drive under the tunnel.
You put the window down,
light a cigarette, and tell me,
"I put my soul into this art ****."
I don't know how to respond
to that statement, so I keep driving.
The smoke leaks out,
covering the night like a quilt.
You ask me, "Where'd you leave the drugs?"
I don't respond.
Tap my shoulder until I twitch
and say, "Cut it out."
But this time, you open the door,
step out to the road,
and ditch me to go watch "La La Land"
with your ex.
I go home and make a tuna melt.
The sunlight is fading and nothing
good is playing on TV.
The couch pulls out into a bed
and there I shut my eyes.
And I tumble into dreams,
dreams where you exist
to hold me up,
of pulling me down.
Perhaps we are
married far to long.
The words have all been said?
Have I become the furniture.
Has it become me?
I offer you an apple
It is sweet and ripe
It's juices flow like the
Apple within the garden of Eden.
They will flow down your face
drenched in sweetness.
But you hold it like a stone.
Even as I look to the blue sky.
An ocean for the
white shape shifting
clouds that hold
no rain in their silence.
I see them fascinated
by me in a language
that needs no words.
In their silence
they say everything
I want to say?
Beats on the
Seat when I lift my
Was sitting on a chair and dreaming,
that I'd go out someday for fishing, again.
This world had us like a satan.
We miss everything that is going.
Woah! Fastest (and crappeiest creation) of mine! :P
The likes of you I can't describe,
Yet I love to eat between your thighs.
The melody you spake to me
Unfolds my greatest sovereignty.
I crave to quaff all of your spit,
And swallow every drop of it.
Don't cheat me of your tasty flesh,
Those bare and supple ****** *******,
Your eyes that follow my firm gaze,
While we kiss and lick and misbehave.
I need to feel each piece of skin,
Smashing girl and boy parts over and over again.
It's such a treat to eat you whole;
I'm obsessed with eating 19-year-olds.
— The End —