#rubber
not the prophylactic kind,
nor the rubber kiss road tire kind.
but the rubber of bodies
old and young,
tired and tense,
young and flexible
migrained, played & splayed,
pain paralyzed,
soothed by cherubic
fingertips
oiled with,
anointed by,
a-custom cream
of tenderizing aloe
and gentling, kind loving
quieting & shushing
tho mine own temples,
raging, feverish,
combobulating
as words spill as *********
and then
*she
sleepy whines:
why did you stop rubbing me?*
and for
a sleep deep,
she leaves
me,
going unanswered
but happily
nonetheless
boy be typing
The End
Jun 22, 2025
Jun 22, 2025 at 12:08 PM UTC
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.
Mar 3, 2024
Mar 3, 2024 at 4:20 PM UTC
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.
Dec 7, 2022
Dec 7, 2022 at 2:27 AM UTC
When I wander movies
the ones I've seen and remember
the sights and all the scenes
the stranger ones, in stranger weather
There are two that surface right away
you may not have seem them my friend
so if there ever comes the day
watching till the end
leaving nothing left too say
"Rubber" just a story
a tire filled not with air
kinda weird, kinda scary
ya had to be, right there
"Swiss Army Man"
is like that, a story filled with strange
all the feelings, morbid, and/or gory
in my memory, and always will
remain
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
i think trains roll
like tires, at night.
their rubber arms can
hold—
can let go.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 2:55 AM UTC
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
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
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
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
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.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
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.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:44 PM UTC
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.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
People are metal
We color ourselves silver
Or gold or copper
We conduct electricity
And have the strength to do anything
We are resilient enough
To be burnt and twisted
And live on
Fighting against the rust
People are glass
Fragile and breakable
We open ourselves up
Let others shine through us
Seeing our true self
That is a rare gift
A beauty taking more courage
Than any could imagine
And when we have such courage
The irony is that we can be shattered
By a simple fall
From between tiny fingers
People are wood
We bear life
And green leaves
But cut us down with
A sharp bladed axe
We burn easy
But it's impossible
To rid our mark
That we leave
Smeared in black ashes
People are rubber
Bending to the will of others
This and that
Always bent out of shape
Springing to our flattened
Normal selves when no one
Else is watching
Striving, stretching to beauty,
Beauty impossible to achieve
When all the eyes are on us
People are like paper
They crumple and rip and tear
And no matter how much
You straighten it out
The crease is always there
They can be bent folded and broken
Destroyed beyond repair
Damaged from water stains and more
From animals beware
One sheet alone is strong and weak
It can do a lot
But wrap a thousand more nearby
And suddenly they are unstoppable
Able to hold 300 pounds
Or more
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
My thoughts are rubber
My words are cement
My thoughts grip me
and snap back
into my head full force
each time they try to escape
My words are concrete and imposing
I can't seem to take them back
no matter how hard I try
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
He came and went;
the smell of burning rubber
strong between her legs.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
Look at it, your finger isn't an
"Eraser"
Stop
STop
STOP
Trying to rub it out,
What are you doing
Spitting
on your
Fingers
If the love furnace isn't
warm, no amount of you
Mingging slobber will
Light this fire that needs a
Spark,
Flame,
Fire
Of passionate lust to
This I must say, what's been
On your fingers,
"Really spit from your mouth"
I don't want it smelling of
Bad Breath,
Garlic,
Morning Breath
"PASSION ALERT"
Wash you hands
Fingers too
Its called
"Mouth wash"
Use it too,
Do you know how delicate
This instrument
Your putting your fingers on?
Its the only one I have got
"So don't break it"
**!!That my ****
That's a ********
Rub it gently
Don't rub it out, or ill bite your nose
That my *****
Did you ever do
*** Ed at school"**
Jesus I use my emergency
Stimulator
Don't feel intimidated
Yes its how you use it,
Cough
Cough
Cough
Now go, a woman needs her
Five speed friend, ill be awhile
So don't bother me,
And don't forget to
Close the door on your way out.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
The child fell in mid-July
When he held three rings
Rippling out from his bones.
His knew smiled a toothless
grin that dropped guts & goo
While the child screamed
Hoping that mother would set
Down her dishes and break
In half her paint brush. He hoped
That mother would stitch him back
Together. A scarecrow wears a costume
Of a strong superhero three months
Later with the help of rubber bands
And metal barbs.
The child fell in mid-July &
Left a scar but not a bruise.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
angry men who do not know I do not have a dollar or a cig to spare. Ugly irrefutable contagion-handed howlers. Angry mischievous heathens that pantomime on 6:00a.m. sidewalk, Wicker Park gallow stop-sign, choreographed gutter-punk drunk walk. And of all he wants and could ever want splits down his gooey membrane brain in the outline of a noun shaped fragment of a clause, "Couldja spare 80¢ for the train," but of course I don't spare on the ellipsis or the period. Semi-colons I won't! My rubber-bottomed leather boots lash out, heavy scraping sounds trail this mirrored shadow half an angle behind me.
***** Blonde framed sunglasses from American Apparel, a gift from my sister in a folded Ray-Ban case is scattered on last nights bedroom floor, my girlfriend has certainly not noticed, the gloom-coated morning sun spray has not noticed; but I have unzipped a fissure in the ocular lens. My heart skips a beat. Her bedroom might as well have swallowed them whole. Now the house can halt and have the shade, swaying in Spring air in 10:22a.m. shadows. The aviator himself Howard Hughes would strike me with his 488 aircraft. Edwin Starr in his invincible sinister calypso of War would turn me round. I was sturdy as a rock until I began to forget my forgottens. These unknown unknowns I knew I needed. I'm over a quarter-century on to noon going nowhere- and quite blindly.
But then, still she could stand upright and find me. Her neck crooked, looking onward through the East, the gristly roots of rhubarb buried in her searching fingernails. She's threaded worse, and of course if I could just tell her- this is the kind of nursing which requires acute temperament and flexibility. I am thus on a journey to strike nonsense and fear from the idiotic vocabulary that put this nonsense in my head. Split through me like a butter knife into my apotropaic. Perhaps tar water could cure my ails. If not, certainly a sliver of vanilla would set me straight. Or if could just rain rain rain all day, then I'd make do without, but she is at school. My pistons are racked and nervous, and I'm not going anywhere but my rucksack stoop. I am camped in midwestern Spring soup. Fog, rain, and shade. The nightmare of day.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC