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Want to save a leg?
It’s gonna cost you an arm!
Want to save an arm?
J Oaks Sep 2018
A man lost his leg in a dark spell
and a dinner plate sits in a dry spot
30 years of love soaked lung choked,
"I can't live without my eyes" life!
It's a tied or be tied world
a king prays in the morning
and stars connect his wishes
tasseled, sparkle, with
blood of shaking soft hands

A man lost his leg in a dark spell
a caravan station unfolds its carpet
a pegged ***** grinds for metal
and a sandpaper shoe floats in the creek
a bluejay whispers to the soil
and a soul catches an eye
hunger taken and a spirit flies
to morphing masses and flowing skies
flowing skies

A man lost his leg in a dark spell
as a green legged woman fell into the moon
a clasp of a watch was finally won
with fevered letters and hammered guns
filtered suns
filtered suns
***
The good. The bad. The ****
All happening in the same location
My bed was taken
Preoccupied by sweat
The bed wet
I have a hot box
I'll rock your socks off
But only if I like you
I'll get some head but you gotta be good
Men made me hate ***
Too fast. No pleasure
I don't like to feel rushed
I like it slow, hard, rough
Choke me while you slide it in slow
Do your best to let me know
Own this cat
Not too many can do that
Only 2 have proven that
But I took Miss Kitty back
She straightened up real fast
Now she hasn't had that
Jaw dropping, leggin popping
Ouuu can I have your babies?
Nah, keep that ****** on daddy
I ain't tryna be crazy
Knock out ***
Make sure I walk funky for 2 days
I've had a lot of ***
I've been high from it
Some might call that addiction
But it has to be the right person or its a waste of skill
I want to showcase this pornstar worthy talent
With someone who had magic to share with me
I want to be pretzelized
Push my legs back as far as they will go
Make me feel it in my stomach
Eat my car until tears of pure satisfaction leak from my eyes
***
Sensational ecstasy 10x
It's magical . As it should be.
Poem 7— Self Preservation
b Dec 2017
no mountain too high they said
i rip the wood from the trees,
to build the road to Juneau
and bathe in the endorphin river

dry my ankles
and let them breathe the cold air
so the people know
im just a nobody

break my hands
to feel my legs again

break me down
so i can love again
Terry Collett May 2017
I put on the leg
sitting on my bed
fitted it
at the top
and stood up on it.

I hated
the **** thing.

I walked
about the room
with the walking stick
helping me balance.

Other girls watched
what's it like?
the girl Susie said.

Like a ******* leg
I said.

You swore
she said
I'm telling Sister Paul.

Go tell her
show her your ****
for all I care
I said.

She stared at me.

Hey Anne
the girl with burns said
makes you look
different.

How different?  
I said
it's just a leg
go **** eggs.

I stormed
from the room
and along
the passageway.

I walked past
the young nun
who smiled
and I smiled.

I liked her
despite her
being a nun.

I went out
on the lawn
and walked over
to the table
at the end
and sat in one
of the white
metal chairs.

I threw
my stick aside
and stared
at the leg.

My stump felt sore
I wanted to take
off the leg
and throw it
at the first person
who came by.

The Kid came
and sat bedside me.

I liked him
one of the few
I liked in
the this hell hole.

He talked.

Over behind him
other kids stood
staring at us
sitting there.

**** them
I said to myself
and gave them
a hard stare.
A GIRL AND HER NEW LEG IN 1959
Kewayne Wadley Apr 2017
Her leg was my favorite tree to lean against.
Most times I'd lean my back there and listen to her for hours.
I'd stare at the pattern of clouds that hovered above my head.
The wind sweeping beneath her dress in  perfect amount of shade.
The rustle of fabric against skin.
Here I felt I could be myself. 
I found peace in an abundance of silence.
Turned the opposite way, her roots.
I rested my head against redwood skin.
Free to be myself.
She was my sanctuary.
Standing still in her strength. I became a part of her,
Sitting still.
listening to her intently, the debris left behind from most storms.
I'd take my time, to help fix the broken branches.
Keeping weeds as far from her as I could.
Learning to compromise in a moment of trust, leaning my head against her lower leg once more.
The shade she provided in her selflessness.
The rustle of my hand against her leaves.
Letting parts of her former self go to grow anew.
My head nestled soft against skin.
I watered her every chance that I could,
Watching the same water sprinkle down on me like rain.
I rested my head against her lower leg for a moment longer.
Learning to be still in the moments that pass like clouds
Khay Sep 2016
im staring a ceiling,  im staring st the curtains
there's nothing much to do with an injured leg
i think about the point of impact, i think about the pain but there's always room to think about you
perhaps i would have been better off with an injury to the head
I know we were as much an accident as the collision course  I was on
and the bruises on my leg hurt less than the bruises to my heart
the doctor talks bandages, stitches, pain meds and creams but recovery
always comes back to the same thing...i wish you were here
Äŧül Aug 2016
I thought she was a **** chick,
I also thought she was true,
But she was only true to my ****.

I remember that chicken breast,
She flaunt her legs in privy,
Now it's someone else's leg piece,

Someone else will devour it over,
I won't ever get that very chick,
Because it was just a quick dream.
Dreamt about an edible chicken last night.

My HP Poem #1109
©Atul Kaushal
Terry Collett Feb 2016
I am lying flat on the bed,
a nurse is rubbing my leg stumps,
her hands are smooth,
fingers skillful.

Another nurse
is beside me;
I  can hear
their conversation
between each other.

She died in the night,
the nurse nearby says,
terrible wounds,
didn't think she
would survive.

I think of Jean
and how she had
just gone off after
our row yesterday.

Her children were dead
at the scene;
the house took a direct hit
in last night's blitz,
the nurse nearby says.

It is tragic children
being killed like that,
the nurse rubbing
my leg stumps says.

I stare at the area
of their voices as if
I could see,
but I see nothing,
darkness where voices
come from.

My hands lie dormant
by my sides.

It is oddly sensual
this rubbing,
painful but sensual,
as if the mixture
of pain and rubbing
combined to make it
seem sensual.

I remember Clive
touching me the last time,
his hands moving
between my legs
and kissing my feet
and even now
I sense his kisses.

The last time
we made love.

There between me
he lay.

Then, he was gone
and died at Dunkirk.

The reality shocks me
and I move,
Steady , Grace,
steady, am I hurting you?
the nurse says,
holding my leg stumps.

No,
I say,
no just a memory.

She rubs again,
the sensuality fighting
with the pain.
A BLIND WOMAN IN HOSPITAL WITH NURSES IN LONDON IN 1940.
Terry Collett Dec 2015
Anne rubbed
at her stump
it was sore

and her toes
(which weren't there)
were hurting

Benedict
gazed at her
and her leg

where her skirt
had risen
it looks red

the boy said
shall I tell
Sister Paul?

**** her Kid
she's no good
she couldn't

find her ****
with both hands
Anne said

well who then?
the Kid said
staring hard

at the stump
glimpse of white
knickers edge

the thin nun
with a face
like ghost

Anne said
so the Kid
left Anne

and her stump
and raced back
to the white

and black brick
nursing home
racing past

other kids
on his way
Sister Luke

was standing
in the hall
come quickly

the Kid said
Anne's stump
is all red

and hurting
Sister Luke
gazed at him

her dark eyes
searching him
is this true?

it's not one
of her games
she's playing?

the nun said
Benedict frowned
no it's real

I've seen it
the Kid said
going red

it's all sore
you've seen it?
seen her stump?

the nun said
she showed you?
yes she did

the Kid said
(but didn't
say about

the knickers
that he'd seen)
Sister Luke

stared at him
she shouldn't
show you that

the nun said
that's private
not for boys

maybe not
but please come
the Kid said

going red
it's painful
so the nun

followed him
on the lawn
where Anne

was sitting
in her chair
stump showing

red and sore
and knickers
that the Kid

never said
that he saw.
A GIRL AND BOY IN A NURSING HOME IN 1959.
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