#innuendo
Come look at my bush…
Slowly now please do not push
Legendary, fluffy at the base
Be careful or it might hit your face
Why does my bush have to be outside
The neighbors stare—I’ve lost my pride
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 5:30 PM UTC
A woman who had a Large chest
It was bigger, and really the best
Get your mind from the gutter
It's where she stores her butter
She bought it from a dealer out west
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 6:33 PM UTC
What do ya say?
do ya wanna come play?
we can do all the words, innuendo, and such
as a slip in your crease, not oil, and no grease
and while away the whole day!
The drips from your pan
all part of the plan
and smoothly we'll glide, and we'll moan
to look in your eyes, and know real surprise
what's that, you're doing, with hand?
A rise to the peak
and ******* to tweak
tongues and bodies, dripping, collide
no that's not sweat, but I think I can bet
twixt your cheeks, culminate, in wild rides......
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 9:06 AM UTC
He kissed
my flower
tattoo.
you naughty minds - smirks
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 5:46 AM UTC
~
*It began at sea
this music box
playing your calliope
fingers churning
like a paddlewheel*
~
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 11:32 AM UTC
It was all the rage
in the food industry
or so they implied
It was easier to
go down the bakery aisle
or so they justified
It was how so many men
preferred to see dessert
or so they specified
But to her way of thinking
it just never looked right
no matter how she tried
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 2:09 PM UTC
I am Eve
I know I am life
I know why a heart beats
I know why the cat sleeps
Far too much
I know why the moon glows
I know why the mould grows
In the bread bin
I know why the earth shakes
I know why the dog wakes
And barks at the world
I know why the wind moans
I know why we break bones
When falling off benches
I know why the stars shine
I know how to write a couplet
As grand as Shakespeare
I know why the trees groan
I know why the hormones
Rush through teenagers
I know why we exist
I know why we like lists
And ticking off the boxes
I know why you and I
Can stare at the same big sky
And see a different thing
I am the raging turbulent seas
I am a cold cup of tea
I am whatever you make of me.
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 1:22 PM UTC
Isn't it a pity that,
what she and I have
might be a
foretold; untold tale?
This writhing soul might be a fool to be
- t a n t a l i z e d -
by her honey-like scent,
with the topical rose redolence;
percolating every existing room for air
in my thickly tar-scarred lungs
from every hush of her troubled breath---
only then to realise that
every passing seconds spent
have always been a constellation of
== inane innuendo ==
to pique the lovelorn in me.
Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 8:16 PM UTC
open up Less upclose hint:
upsidedown absorb unwet waves of silent noise,
otherwise Loud silence moist more !!!
Oct 5, 2020
Oct 5, 2020 at 11:26 AM UTC
a week has passed and since then,
my love for you found refuge in my close friend's list
-settled for knowing that you saw it,
saw me, perhaps, even through me.
-settled for knowing that you,
are there for me.
-settled, for knowing you.
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 6:49 PM UTC
On the second floor
of a department store
At the DMV
appointment window
In the kissing booth
on Coney Island
Anywhere around
her pineapple grove
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 4:59 PM UTC
There once was a lady,
(and there actually still is),
who clandestinely preferred
the growth about her garden gate.
The talk in the village square
these days was all about
pruning the living daylights
out of it, until it was a sad
but smooth barren surface.
Apparently visitors had weighed in
and made this some kind of rule.
Nonetheless, she liked how
the twisting leaves and ivy
created a picturesque latticework,
a natural tapestry,
evoking mystery and anticipation
for what lay beneath.
Oh, she trimmed her foliage
here and there,
keeping the overgrowth
from running wild,
but all things considered
she was not about to change.
Her garden was beautiful
just the way it was.
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 8:50 AM UTC
She sneezes like she pleases
Suddenly
Without warning
And all over the place
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 10:47 AM UTC
When I die
I want to be cremated
and have my ashes mixed with paint
just so someone can s
p
r
e
a
d me
across a canvas.
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 2:47 AM UTC
I'm doing it!
you're doing it!!!
all the cool kids,
are doing it!!
and they are doing it!!
and them too, doing it!!
look, there his trying to do it?!!
with very little success
but let's all, give him,
a hand for trying......!
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 2:11 PM UTC
-I can taste the sensation in my brain
a drug moment defined by you-
a little slip to a lip, to a touch, to much-
such interactions leave my heart in a ****
roll around the cloth in a lump-sum of love
holding onto firm feelings of the swelling of our tongues
back to the white as we dance with our smiles
forth, moving forward in a motion (we won’t turn)-
split the gates wide open
let the honey flow from your wells
face deep in life’s sweet sensations
drinking deep of your sweet nectars-
I will hold firmly to the tiny words cradled in your chest
leaving me breathing until we’re both out of breath-
spread apart, open like a rose in bloom,
our hearts awaken as I hear birds swoon-
a loud and beautiful chirping, given to the space above-
dams held back from bursting forth, no room to keep it held up.
Intertwined, upside down, neck deep in our song,
Flittering and Clittering reversed first in our souls.
a shudder, a touch, and the life of our sound.
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
you can't game & watch the clock,
that's how you lose another stock,
she run away with your cash,
its a smash and dash,
over in a flash,
at least you still got to tap dat ***
sitting back puffin da herb,
think how its so absurd
that 69 be the cap
in smash,
that's the ultimate smash,
****** innuendo
right in front of your face,
hurry up and get your fix,
that taste,
that glaze all over her face,
yeah.
© Try
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC
...
..
.
our fingertip bangs
masterpieces
of
the
heart
you try
an own
that
our fingertip bangs
?
...
..
.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 7:39 AM UTC
If I let myself be myself,
then this world will never
have a case of ****** theft
if I let myself be myself,
then I will never be myself.
As the water runs off the tap,
let it flows, let it glows,
tornado, tornado.
If I ever be myself,
then the book would never
have met its owner off the shelf
if I ever be myself,
then what else would have left?
As the mother falls off the map,
let it shows, let it grows,
innuendo, innuendo.
The cut is temporary,
unlike woes.
But arrows
reside deep in the bow.
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 7:02 AM UTC
I slip the straps and release the clasp
of your over-the-shoulder boulder holder.
Gravity asserts itself, and you sigh as
I wonder if I should get even bolder
because
The jaws of love masquerade
as petals of a flower
so
Just say if you want me to stop.
We are, after all, in the middle of a shop.
I was attracted when I saw you smile.
As we passed in the frozen food aisle.
Now people are staring though the window.
Shocked at my nonchalant innuendo.
And if your purse metaphor extends to this.
We can go to the Bank for a little kiss
though
I may not be able to afford
nine feather mattresses and a golden pea.
But if you could make do
with a lilo and a marble
then …
You've pulled Princess.
© Pagan Paul (30/05/17)
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC
Staring at the cold weather through the window,
think of all the ways I can win dough.
Every idea.. BINGO! But my two cents don't pay the rent though.
And I cant eat my thoughts for food so I'm stuck in limbo.
That's a food for thought that ****** up my credentials,
Because they kept offering me a penny for my thoughts until I said I was bruised and scarred so they gave me time off for being "mentally unstable".
If I tell them I'm not, I have to go back to my job of making my way to the hell hole but what choice do I got when It's either that or keep playing the role of scapegoat.
It's driving me insane and the pills I pop wont make the pain go. Meanwhile my stairway to heaven is literally blocked by my guardian angel.
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
When I die I'm going down
Because I spent my whole life doing it
And feeling it
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
They told you you're a white knight,
To take pride in your long sword.
Now you've mounted your noble stead
And it's me you're headed towards.
They told me I'm a damsel.
Made me feel distressed.
Then you came waltzing in,
Shiny armor on your chest.
You want to slay my dragon;
Stick it to the foe.
You think I'm waiting here for help,
But I'm screaming, "please just go!!"
My tower isn't lonely.
That dragon is my friend.
So desist your constant jabbing:
It's annoyance with no end.
Don't try and kiss me when I'm sleeping.
Keep your hands off of my feet.
I don't need your so called valor
To make my life complete.
And you, dear prince, don't need to charm me--
You are more than how you wield your weapon.
Fair maidens needn't be your quest--
They'll tell you different--the trick is not to let them.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
cool. lightly scented. i sit alone in the reception of a spa. tranquil tones soothe the atmosphere. i lean against the wall, and wait. a fear of physical contact roots me to the spot; they will not touch me. impatiently. silently. i wait.
grey, cloud-tinted sunlight blankets the day. it was blistering heat earlier. i think of the way sweat pooled in the hollow of my chest as your tongue dipped over my collarbone. my back in damp grass. hoodies abandoned. who cares about a little mud when the things we do to each other go beyond ***** somebody might see was a quiet worry drowned out by rough breaths and guilty little whimpers.
now, i am thousands of miles away from you. six hours of time difference. phone vibrations. my unshakable conviction that you might leave me be if i ignore you, even as i miss your touch. sitting alone in a spa reception, too uncomfortable with the idea of hands on my skin. but i miss the pads of your fingertips digging into my sides. palms clamping my wrists either side of my head. pinned in place by ocean eyes that drown me.
we will leave for the secret garden soon. coffee will be placed between my palms. maybe hot. i'm feeling a chill in my bones that wants to be chased away. my mind's eyes conjures an image. memory. you sit across from me on four hours of sleep. your body vibrates on caffiene overload. you are like me sometimes. but my poison is bitter, coffee beans; your poison is an attack of fizzing sugar on your cardiovascular system.
maybe. maybe that's the answer. why you're sweet. why you escape confined spaces (read: relationships. you are like me sometimes.) like bubbles leaping from a can. maybe it's why i'm dark. with an aftertaste almost everybody is determined to chase away.
something tangy hangs on the air despite the spa's best attempts to provide aroma therapy. my mind pines for your natural scent. light washing powder. a little musky, like faint sweat. not the sweetest, but real and warm. i can find it. i reach for it, fingers finding warm skin. we press chest to chest and this hardly feels real. motorbikes and scooters rumble by. your voice is a ghost in my ear. too quiet to be present.
eyes open. receptionists wander. you are far away. my eyes glaze over anyway. sleepless nights and busy days. i slump into scenery: green grass, wrangled trees, a brick wall decorated with poison berries and stinging nettles, a blue sky with white clouds. your body above me.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 6:19 AM UTC