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I look down out of my second story window to see the jam as far as I could spy. It looked like a lake to me, oh what a spot this is turning out to be. The smell of strawberries in the air was the only wonderful thing. For earlier that day I had seen my friend eaten by the strawberry fiend. It reminds me of the blob in a movie I've seen. To my surprise party of little rubber people in a little Glass boat we're coming to save me. Wrapped in trash bags all over their body and up to their heads, they were all sitting in a very large fish tank moving full speed ahead. One yells, we're here to save you my very good friend. Put these bags on and jump right in. As I jumped right in the tank spring a leak. If we don't get out, we're going to feed the **** thing. One of the little rubber people described it me. I helped the Little rubber people back into my window and declared. I guess we wait for rescue my friends. As the building begin to quick and Shake. And that's how a strawberry scented death got me and my friends as a dinner date.
Michael Robert Triska 2024 copy right
Barnaby Atkins Dec 2022
There are buckets made of plastic
There are buckets made of wood
The former are fantastic
The latter not so good.

There are buckets made of metal
And canvas buckets too
But metal for durability
I'd choose if I were you.

There's a bucket on a digger
And buckets made of leather
The former are the bigger
And the latter not so clever.

There are buckets made of tin
And with a little ***** in hand
Kids can build sand castles
When playing on the sand.

There are buckets made of rubber
Or with a wringer for a mop
And some in white enamel
With a blue ring round the top.

There are so many buckets
And some I may have missed
But if anyone should ask me
That's my bucket list.
A poem by Ray Pattenden
Rohan P Jul 2018
i think trains roll
like tires, at night.

their rubber arms can
hold—

can let go.
happy belated canada day
Blubber
Sometimes I get tired
Of all the blubber
The grinding of systems
The metal to the rubber

The pushing of points
The singing to the choir
Pickaxe in place of featherc
Look there's a bird upon the wire

Maybe potions going dry
No thank you please
And fingers going all stiff
While here awaits the feast

And vases laying all smashed
Words sitting there all torn
Lets gather the broken scraps
Rearrange them and be reborn

Maybe it's me and only me
Closing an old and tattered page
Maybe I've overstayed my welcome
On an old and creaky stage

Ah the sticks an stones are smiling now
The crows I think they've left
But the cinders upon ash
Still burn bright upon this hearth

Out into the clearing
See it twinkling up ahead
An inkling of some something
Some of us have thought of and said

Merlin's done it agian
Con-Ed's shut down
Tesla's come into power
And White Bear gets his crown
Oh
And
George Carlin is pope
Shakespeare is president
They both know the ropes
And you what ya think?
Wink, wink
Old out dated systems gone haywire, personally,socially, politically. A system soaked in ideals we call 'civilized'.........from my collection The Situation@amazonbooks/taralizdriscoll
PrttyBrd Apr 2018
trapped beneath a fitted rubber sheet
a lump in the mattress
suffocating on
rancid latex sweat
and yesterday's dried fluids

who were they
the nameless in the dark
this one smelled of popcorn
that on howled in delight

a collage of senseless noise
scented by cats and Ajax
leftovers always go bad

Chuck-will's-widow
in the tree by the window
it must be after midnight

though noon looks the same
in this cage that gives just enough
to torture with possibilities
of breaking free

freedom is overrated
roses stain glass
with the bloodletting
of thorny mishaps

blurred by smeared wounds
ain't life grand
when love ceases to be a goal

how can one find what is
utterly indefinable
if it cannot be decisively named
it cannot be concretely attained

then again, love's fluidity
is its charm
no hard edges
ebbing and flowing
elusive and longing

**** me latex blind
unseen and used
by those who never did mind
a lumpy mattress
041318
161w
Nick Moser Feb 2017
I’m like a rubber band.

I’m forced to bounce back from many things.
I am painfully stretched to my limits,
And recoil back into myself daily.

I’m like a rubber band.

But stretch me out for too long,
Or wear me down for too long,

And in the wrong hands,
I’ll break every time.
Rubber band
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
Flubber inside

filling out the cracks

you and that

insipid hat.

Wolly sweater

boatload of pins

find out when

our love life begins.

It's quite awkward

when I get so nervous

like hot liquid

boiling in a pan.

It's really kind of funny 'cause

I can't figure you out,

man.

Grist and marrow

you're a stringy

kind of fellow.

And every time I see

your stupid smily face

I get this rubber

in my tummy

a fit I cannot place.
Poetic T Jun 2015
I undress her slowly, pink tones are seen,
As all the bits are taken away, undone I am
Pleased. I see her now what I saw early that
Week, dam I know this is what I thought,
What friends said I'm in for a treat.

I run out of breath, before the fun has begun,
She gives me that looks like I want to ****
Some one, she is inviting me deep in.

I want to feel her mouth vibrate across me to
Make me ***, but first I want to play with
Her and have some fun.

She lies still why I do what must be done, she
Doesn't mind what I say ***** talk, ****, what
Ever will get me to the finish line, dam this is fun.

I go slow, lubed up she is wet for me, i go faster
I think I'm going to, OUCH I fall out friction burn
To the mushroom, eyes water I check no damage,
I get off wait a few moments to continue the fun.

I think it is time to do what must be done as her
Mouth waits on me, I start I grab her hair, faster
She says with her eyes I know, ******, ****** as I
Skull bash her, O MY GOD I,M BBAANNGG.

I cry out as a tear reaches my eye, in to the bin she
Goes, that's the third one this month. I think I'll
Have to find a real woman that doesn't explode,
Or go flat just when I'm reaching the end of my goal.
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