#bj
Gotta pull my hair back
But can't look too masculine
When I get on my knees
To **** his ****
Let the black mascara run
Down my pink cheeks
As I think about
Everything but this moment
He says he likes what he sees
He likes what he feels
My thighs are aching
**** no teeth
Well...maybe a little
Not like I'm gonna get anything
Probably sore knees and
A mouthful of ****
That tastes like bleach
I'll cry about it later
Have to finish strong
So he can finish strong
And prove the patriarchy
Really loves a ****
Who will get on her knees
Not a strong woman
Who stands on her feet
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 9:13 AM UTC
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta hai.
Jab b puch lo kyu udas hai
Koi baat nahi kehta hai
Kya kho gya hai uska jo door desh me dhoondta hai
Sans is zami me hai
To vha ku ghumta hai.
Muje fark yun padta hai
Ku Maine is chand ko haste hasate dekha hai.
Ladte jhagadte roothte manate dekha hai.
Us chand Ka taqiya b uski ankho ki nami mehsus karta hai.
Bhai jan to hai par aapi ammi ki kami mehsus karta hai.
Vo vha aasman ki talash me gya hai
Apne sapno k jahan ki talash me gya hai.
Ab use is shehar ki chamak b raas ni aati
Kabhi bethkar sochta hai k is shehar kash na aati.
Maa ki panv ki jameen ko jannat hai janta hai.
Jo samne se jhagdta tha phone pe ammi Ka Sab kha manta hai.
Us chand Ka dil b toota hai kisi se keh ni paya
Sab kuch saha Akele
Bas Roye bina reh na paya
Ab Dard kam hai Bas kasak baki hai
Khalish baqi hai jakhm pe thoda namak Baqi hai.
Or Hume intezar hai k vo chand Jane ab Kab hasega
Kab utha k tasveer zindagi ki usme rang bharega
Chudi bindi mehndi libaz Sab shaunk thode kam ** gye hai
Ye Sab dekh k hairan hum ** gye hai
** skta hai ye likha b use na pasand aye
** skta hai nazarandaz kare ya nazarband kar jaye
Hume yakin hai vo Khud k Masle hal kar legi
Sabr or dua dono mile h use aj ni to kal kar legi
Dhal jayega jald vo saya jo chand pe aj betha hai.
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta hai.
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta hai.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 9:16 AM UTC
I feel your eyes emblazoned as stars
stitched into a river of ebony
your hands, how they extend from heaven
wading across our distance
tasting of cedar and salt to my mind
of every dream I've yet to realize
I squeeze the rind of you
from coastal sunsets
drinking your essence as blood red pulp
you sing within the cicadas' song
as I wander through tufted sea oats
searching, longingly, for your voice
the whimsical splash
of your laughter is a brilliant fusion
of lemon, fuchsia, and tangerine zinnias
framing my cottage pathway
you become the smile
of every face I encounter,
the tickling glimmer of sunlight
between scrolls of Spanish moss
dripping like lace from my heart
you are wisteria and wine
late summer afternoons spent
in naked conversation
I want to be drunk on you today,
tomorrow, every day
we're promised tucked
beneath your chin,
slumbering to the sound
of your cool rain
coating oak leaves
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 7:59 AM UTC
bent Hallmark card (for BJ Donovan)
*”I'm a bent Hallmark card with no stamp. It won't reach my love”
BJ Donovan (HP gone, Gray Dotted, r.i.p.)*
at the drug store, loose poems,
no right-sized envelopes left,
loosie cigs, for newly ‘underemployed’
both, thumbed, finger oil anointed-stained,
and
bent
all available for purchase
24/7, in these United States,
in national drugstores jailed,
kept in “chains” till discarded
therein hides the rub-bled best,^^
great verse writings, deadline-
inspired in a Ohio bullpen office,
@ corp. HQ by an Eng. Lit. major
composed, vetted, approved, yet
marked ‘failure,’ by quality control,
third Tuesday of every month, ritualized,
manager freshens display, victims chosen
Hallmark display, pruning the die-marked,
the no-hope cards, consigned, to a green
in-the-back-garbage dumpster resting place,
where you just may see me climbing-in
(and where America safe keeps its treasures)
droning on, as per usual, I’m kicked away by a
rent-a-cop, muttering insurance assurances, just
business, not personal, grab what cards I can, mine,
stolen pleasures, resending via insertion here ‘n there
my resurrection act, a new business, wife thinks
me stinks, but for me, a perfume of saved words,
an act of rebirthing, god bless America, making it
great by giving Hallmark poems a second chance
gonna send one of those cards in envelope,
addressed to BJ Donovan U.S.A., no stamp,
inside note, your poems were ordinal, small
plates of sardonic pith, human foibles, on being
old, recalling youth, both celebrated, Icarus and Daedalus
pretty sure this poem may not get there but I believe
in poetry and the US Post Office, who delivers
mail to me, marked “Nat”^ and to Santa Claus,
which impresses, cause I’m mythical, he’s real
*your compositions were breathtaking, literally,
miss your hallmarked witticisms, criticisms,
glad you escaped that virus nursing home jail,
if needed, write to “Nat, NYC, living somewhere
in a park, scribbling close by the East River”^*
I’ll get it, like I got you, they know my special tree,
and the rock nearby, that too, is a known hideout,
no worries buddy good stuff may perish, but somehow
it gets a second wind, can’t keep a good scrip, down forever...
a very humbled admirer...
NaTTy
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 1:01 PM UTC
Dear Beautiful Venus,
O great Goddess, I, Temilola Your true worshiper crawl before your altar to ask you for a love, my soul mate, my true companion. A man who does joke with my precious heart. Who is God fearing. Who is financially balance, emotionally and Spiritually balance. Who laughs and make me laugh. Who make decisions with me and our children. Who plays with me and my children. Who respects and treat my family as his own. Who understands my silence and my eye blink. Who argues but not fight. Most of all. Who accept responsibilities for all d faults and mistakes. And make me to love him too and accept my responsibilities too.
Tender hearted Venus,You are a friend to the lonely like me,to those who need a lover,a companion for life,a mate to share their sorrows and delights.
Pls grant me this request of my heart. And I will encourage your true worshiper among my community.
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 5:47 PM UTC
To heck with Debbie Dallas, she just don't compare
her talents and her attributes, just not that debonair
the grip upon the shaft
it's an art, a craft
Debbie, she just laughed, a BJ type, affair
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
please don't say i'm "trouble"
to my father
my mother
because i am an attractive young lady
and boys will come calling.
that is not a compliment.
"she's trouble."
that makes me feel like it's my fault
that boys will regard me in disgusting ways,
will want to slip a hand up my skirt,
leave.
make me feel
it's my fault that he doesn't love me anymore
because i wouldn't let him shove his **** in me
like he desperately begged me to.
*we've been together for seventeen months
i love you, please **** my ****
no i will not feel guilty
i will not let him take what's mine.
and he leaves to find someone who will bend
to every i love you
and please
over a table so he can bury himself inside her.
compliment me.
call me :
pretty
smart
kind
compassionate
creative
stop saying i'm trouble
because my face is nice
it's not my fault that boys believe
that girls are born to cater to their every
throbbing ********
in sunday church
get down on your knees and pray
face buried in the pelvis of God.
ironic.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Nobody likes ugly
Cracked pills
Shackled head
Pushed down
To give you head
It's me you see
That used to be
Happy and free
But now I have added
And you have subtracted
On my resume
Good is gone
Bad has begun
Nobody likes ugly
And I am very
Very Beautiful on the outside
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
I saw a Man both Lean and Hard,
Who smiled at me with warm regard.
As I notice the Bulge within his jeans,
I stretch out my hand. to stroke his seams.
And see the Size of his Manhood Rise,
From Soft Flesh, before my eyes.
Then Kissing the Now Swollen Tip,
As it Slides between my trembling Lips.
Engulfed within, my Lips Now Part,
I feel the Beating of his Heart.
His sighs give rise to other tones
As I Hear the coming of His Moans
And he Collapses, Having Spent
His sweet Manhood now Content.
JMF '98
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC