Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)

is my reciprocal

her waist is my happy place

her neck is my doorway

the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses

unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy

for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house

for ever(y) mirror is pre-positioned,
accidentally angled just so, lol,
her image transported from living room to dining alcove
all the way to the kitchen’s bleacher seats

she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m swelling and
sinning

eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity

she smiles and says  
“good morning bad boy”

maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing

she is 1/me
she is won over me
Justin S Wampler Jan 2021
I'm wearing a gun
And a **** ring,
I don't know which one
Feels better.
Butch Decatoria Oct 2019
Half moon high
In a deepening sky
The clouds like spider cotton,
Like blue ivory husks betwixt
Umber grey misty fog,
The diablerie of dusk
Dark sky and stars

The streets flooded,
a river of headlights, flashlights,
Sidewalks’ pedestrian traffic,
An Armada of munchkins, crowds
Strolling by Chinatown’s
Crisp neon plazas,
A necropolis bright with
Cartoon sharp signage
Accessorizing restaurants with
Jade And gold, foot spas
And red doors…
Horrors of hangings
Roast ducks and pigs decapitated…

Yet the evening is dressed finely still
All eyes lurking
Shadows floating by
Not to be forgotten tonight
Dias de las Muertos
En espanol…

While down the road
Neighborhood way
Skitters Lilliputian creatures
In shells of Saver’s costumes
As squeals of laughter festoons
Boulevard life with
Tiny tintinnabulations
Like baby rattlers
Against the dark
(Maracas for chupacabras)

Timorous parent folk
Encouragement as company,
They Scurry past
Down dim spatial street
In demand of what is given freely
From each and every door
Treat and sweets
Caries galore
All their tricks cached in grins
Of baby teeth
turn candy corn…

Mischievously the meek milk
All Hallows' Eve For
Hallowed be the glee
Even tho' beneath
The web of grey cloudy sky
Life is precious
To deny
The thirsty as it rains

Misery’s loss deep dismal graves,
We should live in celebration
Childlike everyday
Sing and dance
In the October rain
In this wonder
Like rattlers against the dark

Far from wastes of
Hollow wind and pain,
Chilling cries, bleeding eyes,
Undead the unseen
From this cirque city of sins
Offsprings on the strip
Fearless on the boulevard
Treating & tricking
With ole candied lies…

All done up in bright disguise
Happy Halloween.
Revised from All Done Up in Bright Disguise.
Happy Halloween 2019
Butch Decatoria Sep 2016
Half moon high
In a deep navy sky
The clouds like spider cotton

Blue ivory husks
Umber grey claws / webs
The deepening dusk
In the navy sky

The streets a flood a river of orbs
Armada of effulgence / suns
Headlights
Streaming pass
Crisp neon plaza shores
Cartoon sharp signage
Accessorizing concrete
Floors

The evening is dressed fine eyes smyzing
Shadows floating to be forgotten
While down the road
Neighborhood way
Skitters Liliput creatures
In shells of costumes
As squeals of laughter festoons
Live tintinnabulation

Like rattlers against the dark

As they Scurry cross dim / spatial street
In demand of what is given
From each and every door
Treat and sweets
All their tricks cached in grins
Of teeth.

All Hallows' Eve
Hallowed be the glee
Even tho' beneathe
The web of grey
Life is precious / breathing

Fear forgotten with dismay

We should live in celebration
Childlike everyday

Our wonder
As rattlers against the dark
behind the masks of face
In our eyes there is
The spark
That lights all life

From wastes of
Hollow wind
Chilling cries bleeding
Undead the unseen
From this cirque city

All done up in bright disguise

Happy Halloween
Death as one with life...
Halloween poem 2015
Em MacKenzie Jul 16
They call them the Kings of Bones,
torching the  villages and the homes.
Saying they’re done with the ******* and moans
they’re expected to hear when upon their thrones.

So tell me is a battlefield even real
if it isn’t littered in blood, limbs and steel?
The bone kings only receive their end of the deal
if they offer up those who support them for the next meal.

So with scraped and ****** knees,
how are they to pray or please?
If our heads are always bent,
does worship even hold any sentiment?

So tell me is it really a done deal,
just like in guns, germs and steel?
The bone kings take what they want, act as they feel.
They tear all apart and neglect to place a seal.

They’re all too busy reading out of date scripture
that they’re all missing the blatantly clear picture;
Hell is empty as the devils walk the earth.
Everyone wants to rule the world,
trade gold for diamond and diamond for pearl;
doesn’t realize the reverse of worth.

Now they’re wearing collarbones around their neck,
and accessorizing every vertebrae as a ring.
Assuming this cruelty grants them respect,
really at best it’s just straight vulgarity.

But each King stands alone,
forever isolated and on their own.
So they polish a fresh bone
just to add to their skeletal throne.
Stole “Bone Kings” from a Star Wars book, and were not a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2018
Imagine slaves buying their chains
Proudly bragging about their chains
Prettily decorating their chains
Gloriously celebrating their chains
And accessorizing their chains

Waiting patiently in long queues
All lined up by ones and by twos
Uniform in their chemical shoes
Beast-marked with their camp tattoos
Obedient to the latest news

Desperate for the latest ‘phone
Desperate never to be alone
Desperate for approval shown
Desperate for a cool ring tone
Desperate not to be unknown
nevaeh Sep 2020
i like
homemade chocolate chip cookies
and my moms spaghetti
i like dead rappers (and some alive ones)
and rock music from the 2000's
i like boys with curly hair
and dancing with no music at all
i like the 90's
i like rollerblading and neon colors
i like safety pins and key chains
i like over-accessorizing
i like little plastic animals
i love my friends
i love my family
(no matter how wrong it is)
i like ap english class
and free t-shirts
i like running
and climbing trees
i like my bangs
and having my makeup done
i like my art
im proud of it
i like paint on my jeans
and not being bullied
i like compliments from pretty girls
i like pretending i'm the queen
i like thinking about you
i like my life
i love you
and i love me
i miss being happy
cunctatious, flirtatious, and unostentatious,
plus being calm, cool and collected,
but he haint disputatious!

Though by far whether alive
or posthumously repurposed
into molecular bits or bytes
videlicet Malus domestica
courtesy Johnny Appleseed
whose real name John Chapman,
planted an estimated thousands
of apple trees
across the Midwestern United States
and primarily established
apple nurseries, not just single trees,
across large areas of wilderness;
while the exact number unknown,
his nurseries ranged in size,
including one near Fort Wayne, Indiana,
that held fifteen thousand trees
yours truly no way and no however
going to become as illustrious
as aforementioned legendary American,
nor industrious as The Venerable Bede,
nevertheless lemme twitter, snapchat and buzzfeed
that he will also concede
that his mien streak shifts
towards enunciation, pronunciation, and renunciation
against the establishmentarian modus operandi
whether in word or deed
nor said very important righteous leftist
be hashtagged but anything
other than modest,
where ostentation he doth not exceed
merely accessorizing how to embellish
whereby staid language best be freed,
not only to enliven conversation
but also to diplomatic
when portraying moral vices such greed
pride, envy, and lust or social vices,
which can encompass characteristics
like drug addiction, theft, and violence
cuz he espouses credibility, integrity, probity
and abiding laws as a Citizens Banker
I attest he doth wont to heed
life, liberty and pursuit of happiness thus indeed
decrying violence
such as exemplified courtesy "Janjaweed"
primarily members of nomadic Arab tribes,
who have been in long-standing conflict
with Darfur's settled African farmers
over resources like water and land
where talking heads
espouse sax and violins,
which horrific rapine and senseless killing
affect impressionable physical development
of infants and children,
leads to maladies of precious progeny
such as being bow legged
and/or knock-kneed
influencing differently abled person
to escape the cares and concerns
of an uncertain future
to ditch going to school
and accessing consciousness
expanding material such as locoweed
and become adroit
as a bootlegger selling moonshine
distilling their own liquor such as mead
plus growing their own hemp
living off the grid without the need
for dependence on nonrenewable resources
or even modern plumbing they eschew
whereby marking their territory
thirsting after designated spot
taking recourse from the sheltering sky
and the strong arm of the law
to defecate within veritable no man's land
or empty bladder
where all creatures bright and beautiful,
and all things wise and wonderful
maybe even George Washington
slept there and upon waking peed
starting a tradition
where subsequent founding fathers
essentially birthed porta potties,
the primay drawback
being an unavoidable "Queed"
the past tense of the verb "queue,"
meaning to form or wait in a line
eventually getting an education viz read
ding about learning the latest scoop
qua talking politics and/or being a traitor
whispering under cover of darkness
forewarning the enemy
(since being stripped naked
in preparation to bathe in the waters,
no differentiating friend from foe).

— The End —