#rated
She took my face and planted it below her waist
Stick your tongue out have a taste
I fell in love with it
Anyone can hit it
But it takes an artist to Picasso
A master piece
At least
Unleash the beast
A kiss to every crease
So lets start off slow
Latricia taught me everything I
needed to know
She gave me the desire and passion
Told me eat it in this fashion
Pay attention to every client
Listen to her curves no denying it
Make her squirm take your time and learn what makes her yearn
Draw your tongue around the ****
Until she screams out a bit
Some like circles some like twirls
Dont be shy give it a swirl
The taste is magnificent
Like the first piece of fried chicken after lent
I consider myself an assassin
After the spasm that leads to *******
So I'll lick swirl twirl flick and ****
Poke kiss plant slide spread
Until you get don't stop but please stop
My pu**y might pop
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 3:13 PM UTC
I want to feel your lips
Between the crevice of my breast
I want you to lay me down
And pluck my clothes
Like petals of a flower
I want you to run your fingers through my hair
And make me sing like a harp
I want to be held so tight I can barely breath
Pull me in your arms and wear me like your favorite sweater
Let me keep you warm
When the world is cold
I can be your mittens so your hands are never cold
The socks you put on everyday for work
So you never get cold feet
I want you to kiss me so gently and so hard you make my mind turn to fuzz
Static
Numb and everlasting
Pull my hair to wake me from my sleep
Wrap your hand around my throat when you put your tongue in my mouth
Wipe my tears when I cry cause sometimes it's too much
But not enough
I can never have enough of you
Of this
The sparks that shock me everytime you touch me
The hips you pull to get every inch
The breast you grab to make me sing
The face you caress to gain your power
And that spot between my thighs that leaks of honey
And sometimes your milk
Give me it all
Hold me down
Pull me close
Treat me well
Make me yours
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 5:01 PM UTC
Run, run, run
Run with the wind
Till the night of the full moon
And fall into tears of joy
To the sight of nature.
As for it is beauty at its best
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Look upon you
And admire all that
Is a blessing
Learn to understand so as to see it
Granted unto you
And appreciate yourself
Till the mirror does back too.
For your reflection is a gorgeous spell
It is I
And my definition
With existence their comes meaning and value
With the world it’s a rule to power.
As red is to…
Seek to see…
We are born to love….
Fall in love to
The sound of life
And the happiness
That we truly deserve
Because we are a being
Meant to love
Born to express, illustrate
And pursue
For as to lose is to gain
And to miss is to know
From our dear hearts
Born to…we are.
So happy____________ to us.
©Hansmind,2015.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC
Daylight is over rated,
showing the weakness
that caresses the darkness.
Where strength is whoever walks,
when the sunrise knifes
at every vein of existence.
Haemorrhaging the beauty of silence,
daylight is the noise of an
awaking purgatory on life.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
May you let me READ ALOUD to your soul.
Trust me
So we can find love
And share the mirror
I see through
For it is never a hawkers game
But,
A key to the many that
Let's us be one for eternity
For a white lie
Isn't strong enough
To win a game of poker against it
Where's your mind
When beauty is your agenda
Or was the cover of the book too
great to read on the suspense
That now laughs aloud in your conscious
At you.
READ ALOUD may I continue
Or is this such
Of the many tales
You read as a child
That let life blind you
With all its folds.
If so let me correct you
As I now
READ ALOUD mine to you.
With the simplest of words
That I would like to read a book
Of many genres
I will love and
Forever think of for eternity (life at death)
And write one back that you will too
Kicking fiction off the shelves
With a bestseller
Which we will read to the joy of our hearts
and one day we shall tell the story
Beyond us and this bubble of a wall.
As it will be in the best of cursive
Furthermore a script
That makes fantasy
Think twice before writing itself.
And end with THE END.
Truly.
©Hansmind, 2015.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
I don’t see
The meaning of hate
If X is part of
The alphabet
While Y is the
Question that follows after
As A,B,C,D,E
Are the multiple choices
You got out at sea
When team Q , aRe
S, T and U
While M is the
First set of twins
Cloned from N
Thus V and W
Followed the trend.
Well the sky
Seems to be the limit
For K,L and M
As I is for I
And I alone (I am the being).
Although I got a thing for Q
Thus Z played a
A clever game
Zipping up the show
For the audience
F,G,H,J, O and P
Pleased from the performance.
©Hansmind, 2018
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
started out talking thought our conversations were temporary, then you sat next to me got me hotter than Mercury. took you to the corner hope your boy ain't seen us, say she love me but she used to curve me like Serena and Venus. didn't even kiss her lips I kissed her neck first, my **** out put it in her mouth felt like I left earth. we made love on the moon and we slept on stars, she slept on me and I slept on her. she begged for my Milky Way with her hot chocolate heavenly body so it's safe to say that I slept on Mars. wake up on the red bed with a red head, go to the kitchen we on the sink and I tell her to bend. I make her scream and the other planets runaway from fear, not only Mila Kunis could make Jupiter ascend. I told her 'I wasn't looking for love but Either ways I found it, let me treat your finger like Saturn put a ring all around it.' Then I asked her 'can I put it in your anus?' she said 'Guy that's disgusting
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
The saddest day, it was yesterday.
Smoky sullen pushy congested lightless sky day.
Wrecked and weathered, gluey, obtuse and penned with
Melancholy and wanton desire. Wanting on and selling off
The Vampires and wretched thieves hibernating back in coach,
Seated in peacock-scoundrel dress. There's was the rudimentary
Yet pertinent foulness of childlike hatred, but they wore it under
Coarsely fitting suits to cover their hefty bags of ginormous fat.
Fatty ***** to scrutinize. Fatty ***** to wallow in the throes of
Dark fatty dementia.
Purses of alabaster filled with hemoglobin. Obfuscating zilch.
Scurvy on the arms, reptiles in their ears, and a million miles of
Stenchy, noisome, in glut. Wallowing, heavy and anti-professional.
Loff-less, un-catchy, unkempt, and in a clamor.
Boarish and obtrusive.
Gushy of anguish and the uncomfortable hide of rhino
Replaced for the swill excrement vetted porcine hocks of a
Kaleidoscope rich, aftermarket slug-pact for the bowels of
This century's egoes. Heavy on the cheeses, Cheetos, and Pathos.
In the hutch, a gaily brimming sunswept valley chimes
With the fruitful gaiety around the crowned Pantone TX1333 and Sienna heads that does keep. Homes are heavier, heaving the shrills.
Archaic muted cries of childhood, upsetted tummies serving at the Sighs of Lucifer. There are scoundrels here and in the underwear and in The water and under the water.
Frogs moo, chimney's weep, most other's Mother's have done true **** Jobs keeping their reared up to par with the others to avoid being Other'd. And our own language isn't being kept. It's undoing itself atop The bridges of mouths and the ridges of jawlines, and they have faded Swiftly, and no surrogate or custodial colloquialism has lived up to the Shadows and forethought of our greatest grandparents. And what has Your Jesus brought you except uncertainty, foul-play, and foul players And despondent and boarish chicas.
So now there you have this: brevity.
Another soft-tipped dactylic hand for undertaking.
By the end of days there will be the licking of butts,
Poor movies with Salma Hayek, and the lot of children's books
No children, not even these triplets will remember their fine names:
Tee, Bee, and Cee.
Crocus and sourdough lilies
Brimming over the nostril opera's of
These adopted gospels.
Only the ramparts of our literary apartheid and totally ******
Sexualness in kids and dults of all ages.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
A letter to my dear,
Sons and daughters
In a foreign language
Not known in my time,
But with hope in yours.
Where they may have fixed the
Imbalance of life.
I wish not to depress you,
But repress your mind
As my first impression is to point
A finger to time
The one whom answers
Questions in installments.
For this man once put me on stage
And my agenda was to impress
Twice to the infinite I could count
But I couldn’t find that one in my life.
Where are you?
Thus the nature I was born in,
Is to interest the world
And not bore it with normality
Not knowing that peace comes in many ways
For this foreign language
Seems to be a new era
Of blank pages that could be
Filled with one word
GREATNESS.
For yesterday I did things of shame
That are great for a story
That would become fame
Just the perfect ice breaker in my time.
Tip for if you ever find\have TIMEtoTRAVEL
Thus my vote belonged to extinction,
Since…
Justice is a commodity
Of the rich
As poverty is beautiful
Beautiful without the eye’s of the lens.
Though I don’t have doesn’t mean
Am not/I can’t
As My sight is set to the sky
Chasing a flower in the clouds as
I am still on the ground investing an idea.
Thus the gap of the market to success
Is the economics of humanities fate
As the scarcity of fear rises
Demand and supply seem to be losing
In a relation of ships
At bay lacking goods.
On this graphic coordinates
Just may you understand
Humanity has no time to
Find you in the dark
For smoke signals will be put out
Neither translate your existence
If it’s not the curiosity that killed the cat.
Like “Chuck Norris whom speaks French in Russian”.
For they live on a constant
Quote status of
“I am available, but busy
At school watching a movie,
While at work
With a battery about to die
So I can’t talk, Whats App only
In a meeting at the gym
Sleeping on urgent calls only.”
As I myself live knowing
I speak a FOREIGN LANGUAGE ……
What is your translation of my existence???
For it seems your mistaken and troubled.
For generations to come.
Yours sincerely;
Poet Kiri
N. HANNY L.
PS: Life has gone digital
Thus its STATUS RATED ®.
Yours truly;
Is to be the ONE.
©Hansmind, 2016
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
Doctor , doctor
I got a knife
Through the back of
My heart
I seek for advice
Yet you hand me
A prescription
Written revenge
That the pharmacy
Is selling over the counter
A pill I seemed to have overdosed on.
I swear I could
Hear my unconscious
Shout STOP
Enough is enough
As it regained conscious.
Yet one pill
Is all I took.
Coming back for an alternative
That could help me
Deal with my victims haunting
Whose case is now the living dead.
while my pain
Became guilty
Thus your prescription
Received a judgment
From the law.
I stand in a box
Behind bars
With an addiction
So sweet you could
Taste the sour bits. (Vice versa)
As I thought outside the box
Floating along the Mediterranean
Meditating.
What else could you
Prescribe for I the being
Whose love is over diluted
And depression is a trending disease
And all that you are meant
To make feel better.
My story
Is now your study
As you google through books
For a diagnosis.
©Hansmind, 2016
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 2:56 PM UTC
It's said
That a picture is worth
A thousand words
Yet today
A glimpse of life
Writes a
Series of novels
The word impossible
Lacks an existence
For we have done
it possible the unbelievable
Bringing hell
Upon Heaven
Yet still
Bare to live in it
Humanity is a failed
Experiment in this scientific lab
Where we going as the end gets closer
The truth is set to put us on the wrong
In a time like know
We need the key to freedom
Not only choose a new destiny
But one for our home
Stop searching
The answer is in front of you
Have a glimpse
And listen to the
Voices of the poetic mirror
You can't ******* a giant
With a vision, is a plan
If dreams are delivered by
Passing comets
There worth a wish
We grant ourselves
Yet prosper to make them valid
To be seen is
You looking in the mirror
To be felt is
Facing the world head on.
©Hansmind, 2015
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
Am not just saying
But sharing .
I share a reason
With one
And many
A similarity
With those whom
Understand / understood.
Patience has a measuring
That can get you drunk
Within this cup,
Thus mugged along the rims
Of the stars you see now
In a parallel world
not much a far.
That the silence
Whistles a song
To the wind,
In a room
Barren of life.
Another round
Waiter, waiter
A-weight my order.
Am getting tipsy
As a song plays back
My I-tunes
I don’t play around with numbers
As nine, eight, seven
Fear ran along
The murderous number line
Revenge was 7 (seven) letters exact.
As My measuring cup
Was to full too
Rely on a detective ,
As human rights laughed away a pun
The digits playing with us now
As the digits kicked up cost of death to the human race.
Am still in a pickle
About the one
After one short year
I fell ill/short of perfection,
So I thank a sin
For as culture needed a place
In the universe to settle
For the decade.
Waiter,
A-weight the
Burden of the cups
Full of tips,
Yet mine tips
On the edge of the margin
To the likes
Of inspiration,
They too have lived
On the top of the
Edge balancing a-weight.
©Hansmind, 2015
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC