"backrub" poems
Silly girl, don't cry alone.
Comfort is the soft murmur,
the gentle backrub,
and the cuddling
on a lumpy couch.
Silly girl, you cried alone
all those times
when you didn't have to.
Warm embrace, skin
pressed to yours,
holding you close,
the tears drip onto
covered shoulder
cold tiles a memory
Silly girl, fill yourself with happiness
after you let it all out,
instead of the chilly air
you **** up with desperation,
when you cry alone.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
Can’t wait to be seventy
With knees that hang
Like fleshy skin tags
Over my knee highs
And Custard feet
All squelched into my Clarks.
No prunes
In my grocery basket
Just lots of cheese
Chocolate and beer
Which will make me gassy
So I’ll ask for a backrub
To get my wind up.
I’ll say those things
I’ve always wanted to say
And not come off
Like a social landmine
Because people will just think
I’m batty.
They’ll smile
And nod
And make corkscrew gestures
Behind my back
But I won’t care.
I shall say
**** a lot
Because people
Will not expect that
From a portly granny
With a blue rinse.
But I shall never be unkind
Of all of the ugly words
You can use
**** is probably
The most benign.
I shall read great books
Filled with ideas
And speak to the deaf geriatrics
In the old folks home
And say things like-
So what did you think of that?
And even as they
Clutch their hearts
To prepare for their exit
From this world
I shall say-
I feel that strongly too
And in this way
Everything shall
Be part of my interlude
It shall all be about me
Me
Me
Me
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
*i dream of the end of the world
the only place i find solitude
time for myself is when
i am getting a tattoo
and bleeding myself dry
with ink in my veins
my life is cracking at the edges
and crumpling at the core
and i am not so sure who i am
while sit in solitude in my basement
and drink myself sober
while i put out a cigarette on my arm
because the smoke in my lungs
isnt killing me fast enough
while my friends do nothing
but make sure i go comfortably
to an early grave
while i remember the backrub you gave me
and how you laid in his arms
while i eat a bag of beef jerky
even though im a vegetarian
and the taste of blood in my mouth
makes me sick to my stomach
yet i keep eating because
something had to die
while i try to write this suicide note
with all the eloquence of a poem
and cry for help in the smallest voice
all the while knowing that
i will just ***** our in the end
and end up with one more scar
of many that are there or not
but they all ghost on my soul
shame
i dream of the end of the world*
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
Long after my injust exhile from this site I began a time of deep thinking.
And after many cervasas and long nights with ***** women I thought.
Where is my life going besides to the free clinic every other day to cure
the ******* of fire.
It was then I remembred a wise amigo a man amoungst many men
not because he was strange they just happend to all gather togather in that spot.
Unlike a bathhouse once I only went to a few times to have some male bonding
time and to enjoy a nice backrub.
But enough with my college years.
My once mighty amigo told me.
******** dont ever let them hold you back for the evil forces are many
yet you cant **** crazy well maybe with a gun but that would take many bullets amigo.
It was then i knew I must return to the land of Hello.
To bring joy to many and annoy young teenage writers who think vampires can walk around in daylight and werewolves run in large packs with other amigos in Alaska.
How I wish i lived there as well.
It had been far to long since this gravyard of like button zombies had taken off
there pants turned off the lights and had a hot oil ****
At least I hope that was oil.
It had been a cold summer south of the boarder but that doesnt mean there wasnt fire down below.
Much like with older women.
So I packed the pinto and like a really fast minded person moving at a well
much slower gear I was off.
For where there is a need there is well a place people
probaly want something to suit that need.
So spank my spandex wearing *** and call me MR Pickles.
Cause The ******** has returned amigos.
Ole!!!
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
Always a love ritual
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 12:07 PM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Take yourself back to soft night-air perfumed necks. Once again, allow your thoughts to sculpt a hand of past flesh and stroke the palm of her history with you. O gentle jack-of-hearts backrub lover, you must dance the steps your true soul choreographs for you.
Let’s put an end to future ills with patience for this all too familiar unique smile of affairs. Where are you true love of mine a second time?
With gentle paws upon your heart landscape. The day must allow your conscience to paint like a fox. To love like brunette blades of hair reveal emotion. O precious style of moonlight lights up a secret drama.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC