before you start reading, please not that the Barbie in this poem is not the registered trademark that is the Barbie doll (all is revealed in the notes)*

When Barbie wakes up in the morning
Even the birds stop chirping in fright
She makes her way to the wardrobe knowing
What is inside will start the day right

First to be donned is her barbarian bra
It takes quite a task to fill
She really is ever so grateful for her bra
It keeps all the best bits subdued and still

The bras must always go on first
Without it she would be in trouble
If the briefs went on first without the bra
To this day she’d still be bent over double

Next on are the bountiful bootylicious briefs
She worries that they may have shrunk
Mayhap she should stop putting them in the dryer
They are essential to keep all her junk in her trunk

Over the top of the barbarian bra
Goes a sweater with the deepest V neck you’ll find
The cleavage that is on display is important
It keeps the focus from straying to her behind

On go the boots and laced up tight
These babies were made for walking
But most days they are just for comfort
Unless she’s up for some stalking

Last of all on her perfectly coiffed head
She settles her beautiful hat
It looks a little like a large table umbrella
In fact, once upon a time, it was actually that!

She’s now ready to start her day
And the birds resume chirping like a choir
Barbie is ready to face the world dressed in her
Barbarian Bra and Bountiful Bootylicious Briefs and
Other Amazing Attire

evan peters,
your so fine.
i've seen your behind, atleast 4 times.
i think you should know that you're a dime.
will you be my valentine?

evan peters,
is one hell of a man,
he can even pull off lobster hands.
evan peters i am your  biggest fan.
i would love to tell you this over a can of spam.
but ****.
you're emmas man.

evan peters,
you're so fly,
you're bootylicious,i can't denie, to hell with shakira,
your hips do not lie,
american horror story, until the day i die!

Yay! It's the weekend
out with the girls tonight
Feeling rather perky
but wish my backside was feeling tight

I've squeezed it into jeans
they hold everything in!
Can't eat or drink too much
as there's really not much give

I will make it work though
and wiggle it all with pride
feeling 'bootylicious'
Thank god I've got alcohol on my side!

:D

"Your shapely, bootylicious thighs,
carved columns of lubricious butter,
shouldn't be left without gently caressed,
til covered all over with ruddy marks of desire,
just strawberry goosebumps for ignorant  others"

When she snuggles closer to him, from the seat next,
as the train rocks and they rub,when gathering speed,
she sporting a marvelous mini dress engrossing his libido,
he whispers to her, who was all ears, "But my real object
of focus is the truth, that lurks where your thighs meet"

What's the point of admiring a ***** that you never get to watch walk away from You?

If Planets were Gay (Star ******) Poem
(8/4/2014)

Stars are ****.
Big hairless ***** dangling from the sky.
That old song sang stars are like pizza pie,
but why oh why can't I,
instead dine tonight on orbs in between the sky's mighty thighs?

The sun could be a lot of fun at the beach, wearing my thong.
I'd let it spin around my orbit ALL YEAR LONG.

And Saturn's rim... I mean ring
is a bootylicious thing.
I'd let it sit on my face,
and eat out that planet's entire outer space.

If Pluto were a planet,
It'd be the Jackson to my Janet,
singing it's Pluto,
Miss Pluto if ya nasty.

Mercury looked fiery hot when we first met,
Things got steamy 'cuz we both got wet.
We wasted no time working up a sweat.

I bet if Venus had a *****,
it would be so big,
it'd have its own solar system!
tee hee hee

But don't get me started with Earth,
that planet's got good girth.
If Earth was gay, you know that Uranus would be like,
"Ohayyy!!
Gurl Galactic Grindr tells me you're in my galaxy,
let's meet in the middle of the Milky Way."

Jupiter is the kinda planet that plays hard to get,
a total tease you'd quickly forget.
Plus he gave me asteroids in my astral ****.

And the Moon?
It makes my whole body swoon.
The only problem,
thisssss planet's a bottommmmm!

Neptune is in the closet,
but let's be real,
every planet and their comet knows it.

Nobody plays with Mars,
because he lives too far,
and has no apartment, job, or car.

But who am I kidding?
If Planets were Gay,
I'd Star **** 'em all any day.

What can you say
to a generation who don't remember
your summer of love.

Who don't see the ribbon in the sky
Stevie wonder,
couldn't see
but saw .
The eventual maturity of a  culture
whose built their identity off those brave enough to speak up.
when so many of us have been rendered cowards,
a perceived perception
fulfilling the essence of,
"Throw that *** in the circle!"
For that moment of miniscule acceptance
a belonging without question, we’ved missed since grade school .
“i am  Full of myself, full of myself, i am full of myself” ,
as beyonica sells dreams of bootylicious  billion dollar unions
nicki minaj and *** implants is the logical evolutionary conclusion  
what's going on
no Marvin gaye
we already know
found our idol's.
they comes on
Mondays at 7.
So we don't look for them no more
Their Preprogrammed
Failed by the previous generation
who couldn't seem to find themselves and their patients long enough to lead.
What can you say to a generation
whose music don't speak of waiting in waters, but shaking those waters just enough
to get what you can from EBT
or being just quite enough so you don't have to scream
“I can't breathe”.
A battle between law and survival
and Democrats ain't been no better than Republicans since the  1700's
we’re still holding our breath in waiting..
**** your revolution old *****,
it ain't did nothing
but make people believe that I have something that I could never
hold in my hand.
A black president
freedom
and a land
Turn up.
To the slowest change in history,
still waiting for equality on all fronts
this movement was debunked,
like the memories of Americans
30 minutes primetime cycles
What can you say
to a generation
who does the nea nea
where teddy bears and liquor bottles mark  the legacy of the deceased
once lay,
such a short memory
these corner they lived and died for a singular belief
money over *******, get rich by all means.
that's our raising the bar
“go for the millions”
and if we play it right
miley cyrus
will twork your way to a grammy.
What can you say
to a generation.
where gay is so gay
no one knows it’s true meaning
we're all just dreaming
make it up as we go
bought into a coma
now trying to wake up.
What can you say
to this generation
except sorry
we left you nothing to hold on too.    
but shadows
and hypocritical finger
that rely
“don't  as i do “
but
“do as i say”

Her curvaceous **** was bootylicious and  fit,
Yet she was desperate for a 'Brazilian **** lift'
The bootiologist was quite well versed,
Still, the procedure proved to be accursed,
The Kim Kadarshian inspired quest, bore only a small fruit.

lesson one

your body belongs to the world. men are aloud to stare, to call from cars as red as your cheeks. other women are allowed to judge you, whisper at you behind your back. because in our world, it's way too common for a woman to be forced against each other, instead of together. it would be better if we were a team, not a country in the midst of a civil war. but ******* happens.

lesson two

you cannot be fat. if your legs are trunks and your hair is leaves, then you must be cut down. starve yourself down to a neutral frame, a canvas so to speak. then paint on ******* like mountains. teeth as white as snow. hair as blonde as sand. then you'll be the perfect landscape. the perfect girl.
that's all that matters.

lesson three

shave! take the razor and trim your gardens, for god's sake girl! no one will want you if you look like an overgrown yard that someone abandoned years ago. it's disgusting for one. no one wants to see something natural on a woman. at least, not men.

lesson four

men have standards that they've been shown. be thick-lipped, like kylie. be bootylicious like beyoncè. be thin like gigi.
be perfect.

lesson five

everything i ever learned was a lie.

I longed to feel your lips pressed
upon my flesh, leaving lustrous
marks of ecstasy within my vessel,
tongue kissing my *******, letting
your passion rise like a wildfire
over me as I held onto your solid
and rhythmic arms, touching your
bootylicious ***, embracing the fuel
from your fire as you feed me infinite
desires for a thousand lifetimes.

The men I adore are full of fascinating discoveries,
unparalleled inventions, so interestingly creative
and detail-oriented, innovative, independent,
influential, and impressive.  I admire their inspiring
diction, their intuitive minds, so dapper and dashing,
so handsomely molded and well-spoken, the kind of men
that makes you fall their amazing aura, every cell
of their muscular vessel.  They are so increasingly
deep, a bright boldness of affection caressing my skin
on the warmest days when the sunlight shimmers
in the sky-blue scenery.  Their eyes are so spellbinding,
their lips so seductively juicy, their chest so impressively
flexing, the way their swag splashes in my system,
the way their arms are so hot and solid, their muscles
so robust and enough.  They have the phattest *****,
so bootylicious, blooming, breathtaking, a masterpiece
of passion so massively appealing, big bulldozer boys,
daddy **** so thick, making it hard for me to breathe,
humongous monster hanging, the head so pleasant,
the ***** so enthralling, wanting to ******* it all,
taste their manly pleasures, their whole ocean of sleekly
sweet scenes.  Envelop me in their deepest treasures,
let me feel their static electricity, let me smell
their cologne, Ethika boxers, and socks, let me
lick their tattoos, become ***** with ****** urges.
I want to enter their dreams, stream in their sereneness,
cuddle up in their man kingdom, massage their ******
skin, so covered in their florescent frequency, their pure,
milky magic, basking in their masculine *******.