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The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Our rhymes
Are on time
And our wit
Is hard to get

But your gas to my fire
Is enough to spark wires
And inspire heat

But not the kind
That burns down shanties
But the kind that excites
And slides down *******

The dry and calloused hands
of wit sharpened
and refined

The keeping of the fire
as her arousal, assured
playing with her mind

It's not a simple variance
each puzzle, a different kind of view
getting her excited, and her bra removed

No ******* and no bra
I look in wonder, stare in awe
At the statuesque beauty in front of me
My eyes capture and store what it sees

A tentative touch of skin to skin
I may not know the trouble I'm in
As thoughts turn to original sin
At this point the line is mighty thin

So I cross it with a kiss
Roam her body, no spot I miss
Friction sparks ignite the flame
Man I love to play this game

Flick of my Bic
Or of my tongue
Either way
She will squirm
From my licks
Or my words
Both can cause
Passions to burn

Tongue tip
Long **** sip
Juices flow
See the glow
Here to dine
For a time

Sliding into memories,
her scent, her feel, her remedies
Breaking bad, breaking me,
repair, a simple thought you see
Her silken hands and gentle touch, setting me forever, free

Her needs are mine, her smallest thoughts, decree
My body hers, my confusion swept, as if debris

I hold to what I know is true, there is no me, without, you....
A collab with Temporal Fugue
Brendan Watch May 2014
The questions are
optional and the
whip cream bra is
delicious.
I dare you to
tell the truth about
seven minutes in Heaven,
the greatest restaurant ever
to steal a bathroom in for
*******'s sake.
This game, man,
and you'll prove you're a man
by dropping your pants and pride,
because you picked dare
not twenty questions.
ordained May 2015
it's such a cliche, but my heart is so sore
i didn't know ice could feel pain but this freezer burn really burns
when it rains, it pours, because
this torrential downpour **** has
put holes in my umbrella
and my shirt is soaking wet but
you're only looking at my bra--
my fault for wearing white, i guess; you
opened me up but shut me off like a faucet when you finished
washing your hands
and flicker out like the streetlamp that watched our first kiss
i don't remember how to rhyme or
speak or stop my dams from breaking because your lips
your lips your lips--
i miss them. i hate them for the way they curl into a smile when
you look at her, next to me,
as if i'm not there (*******, little ghost, your eyes whisper hot on my neck)
she won't fall like i did, because i did and she won't hurt me like you did and she won't do what you did
to him because she's better than you (better than me, too) , doesn't hurt
to feel pleasure
but you're true to the stars you were
born under--
passionate (my purple neck speaks to that)
and proud
and holier than thou (your crucifix is
bigger than mine
when they tangle like we do)
past and present are so tense, so
interwoven and unsure and
absolutely careful
(although you aren't when you throw me on
your bed)
because we're not kissing now but it happened in the pst and even god doesn't know if it'll happen again
in the meantime, i'll lick my
wounds and let my glacial insides freeze over again
i've tossed in the towel, given up on
the umbrella and let the
rain soak me (like you did)
it's a perfect storm, really, because--
because-- because--
you look at her like you looked at me and he's
turned his head away from me (when i wanted him
to stop looking, i never
imagined it would hurt like this and)
I'm just watching it all fall down
ring around the rosie
ring for me when you want me again and i'll
come, of course, like your
salt on my tongue, because
your hands will be on me even if your mind is on her
open the drain like you opened me all
those months ago (icy and numb from the
last crack at my heart, baseball bat and
all) and watch me wash down the pipes
this is long but i'm pretty proud of it, think it's a good one
Addie May 2016
she looks at herself in the mirror
and wonders how she got here
standing like a conqueror
who won the battle
but she doesn’t realize
the war has just begun

his tongue moves up her inner thigh
she floats in a dream
the white pillow her cloud
and she thinks he is an angel
a bright star on her darkest days

but he was never a star
he was a meteorite
that crashed in her garden
leaving a crater of fire
consuming every living thing

four years have passed
but the fire still burns
those bittersweet memories
rotate through her mind
like a slideshow
she can’t turn off

now
whenever she wears that bra
she remembers herself in the mirror
and wishes she could go back
as a whisper
and tell herself
he’s a demon
do not trust him

even though
she’s washed her body
thousands of times
since he last touched it
it will never be enough
John Constantine Jul 2016
I could feel my face rush with blood I wasn't sure who I was

I could feel the anticipation in the air I knew what I felt is something we'd share

Cause I felt you body press up against mine

and I felt your face in my shoulder and you looked fine

And I felt your embrace for the first time

Cause I felt your bra strap through your shirt and I felt a pulse if was yours for sure

I could see you even though I'd closed my eyes I was shaking even though I was paralyzed

You couldn't believe this real I was scared by what I could feel

What should I do with this? What can I do with this? What should I do with this?
Pure emotion
This was supposed to be a song but idk how to play the guitar so a poem will do
PJ Nov 2015
Scraped knees and burnt lungs
Hair pulling and touching tongues
Study hard, fail a class
Makeup on, the perfect mask
Scales and ***, you have no power
One night stand, take a shower
Class at eight, get up at nine
Lie to your parents, "I'm doing fine"
Black lace bra, **** dress
Frat house party, look your best
Pills and smokes, just one more
Boy comes over, shut the door
Greedy hands and spoken words
Words he says he never heard
Sink running, your eyes are too
Look in the mirror, someone new
Black circles, white washed skin
"How the hell did I get so thin"
Another pill, another chapter
The college life everyone's after
Marie-Niege Feb 2014
If I were to take off my sweater
and jeans
and shoes
and socks
and bra
and underpants,
but not necessarily in that order,
you wouldn't see my skin
or the curves of my hips
or the bulges of my *******,
rather
you'd see the swells of goosebumps
that have begun to make me,
invisible.
I feel as though all that's left for us to do
is lay within the pile of nerves that
I've begun to shed,
and maybe in some hopes,
we can find a proper tangle
to wrap my legs within.
my skin, of late, has begun to feel separate of me
Terry Collett Oct 2014
Sonya stood
on the narrow balcony
of the hotel room in Paris

I lay on the bed
reading Celan poems

she was in her underwear
and bra
smoking
a French cigarette

most of the great artists
lived here
at one time or other
she said

I looked over at her
her blonde hair
touched her haunches
her tight ****
smiled at me

most yes
I guess so
I said

can we go
to an art gallery today?
she said
I love the Impressionists
this is the place
to see them

guess so
I returned to the book

where are we breakfasting?

where you like

she exhaled
that little café
on the corner is good
she suggested

you like the waiter
the guy with the Proust moustache

nonsense
it's the coffee
the cake he provides
she said

she gazed back at me
aren't you going to wash
and dress?

I nodded
after you

you're quicker
she said

she was right
ok
so I got up
and went into the bathroom
and washed
and brushed my teeth
and came out

she was on the bed
looking at the book
of poems

how do you
make sense of this?
she asked

open minded
and getting the vibe

she put the book down
and went in the bathroom

I dressed
lit a cigarette
and stood
by the window
looking down
into the Parisian street
below

I love Paris
I mused
love all this
and blew
a passing French girl
a palm blown kiss.
A MAN AND WOMAN IN PARIS IN 1973
Rollie Rathburn Mar 2016
Day 1:
“Oh hey what’s up man, how’s your day been today?”

“Pretty solid, I was weirdly productive at work so that was nice. Just gonna get some rest now.”

“Wouldn’t you rather think about that time in 3rd grade when you beat up your classmate Patrick for no reason and told him to keep quiet while your teacher walked the line?”

“What? No. Why on Earth would I want that?”

“Just thought I’d ask. It’s been back here awhile.”

Day 2:
“Sup dude?”

“Kinda busy right now. Working a new deadlift PR. Can this wait?”

“Can you carry on a relationship that doesn’t end with a woman crying and your fists breaking your furniture?”

Day 3:
“Hey…”

“What are you gaining from this?”

“Me? Nothing, I’m just making sure you don’t forget.”

“What’s the point in remembering?”

“Everyone else has to. What makes you so special?”

Day 4:
“…….”

“I can hear your breathing.”

“……………”

“Just say whatever you want.”

“She’s been active on her social media accounts today.”

“I know.”

Day 5:
“Man, you’re lucky you’ve at least got a dog to hang out with you.”

“Yeah man, she keeps me going.”

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yeah I always do why?”

“Well her collar’s off at night so if she got out no one would ever find her.”

“She’s fine I promise you.”

“Well she’s small and has dark fur so hopefully car headlights are as confident as you are.”

Day 6:
“Good morning.”

“No. I’m dead serious. Today is not the day.”

“Whoa now, why the hostility?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m here for.”

“I saw a camo energy drink this morning and broke down sobbing at 7 am in the middle of a crowded gas station because I could physically feel her going on with her day no matter how hard I try to hold on.  I missed the way her hair tastes like sullen acoustic guitar songs and how she walks around in the mornings wearing only a bra as she gets ready for work. Modestly brazen. I can’t stop thinking about how my skin felt like it belonged to me for the first time the moment her body pressed against mine and she let the curve of her smile crash against my crooked face. Can’t stop missing the way she spun on her toes when she had a secret she wanted to share so what, what the **** could you possibly have to tell me? Let’s hear it big shot.”

“For a moment a self-inflicted gunshot wound looks like a halo in full bloom.”

Day 7:
“Please. I’m begging you. I can’t handle anymore right now. I need a break from this just for an hour.”

“Remember how she lotions her entire body after a shower with her wet hair ******* and you couldn’t stop being amazed at the fact that you’ve never seen anyone lotion their *** before?”

“Yeah, we both know I remember that.”

“Why couldn’t you just stop?”

“I don’t know. I tried to explain to her that my soul felt like whiskey smells every time I yelled at her and I hated myself for it. I was sick then and am getting the help I need, but the silence is more powerful than therapy.”

“I see the tip of the iceberg, and I worry about you.”
Donall Dempsey May 2015
asleep she
looks like a photograph
of her self

her expression
the weather of her face
evaporates

lipstick smudges her pillow
a false eyelash
flutters to the floor

she sleeps like a statue
as if centuries
mean nothing to her

an awed moon
gazes in upon
her dreaming

a silk lilac *******
like a little animal
caught crawling across the carpet

a rather fetching
matching bra
dangles from a candlestick

impossibly high stilettos
stand still
pretending to be an art installation

a silk stocking
hangs
from a doorknob

a new millennium
enters the room
a clock ticks loudly
Rien ne pese tant que un secret.

[Nothing weighs more than a secret.] ~ La Fontaine

Rien ne pese tant que un secret. [Nothing weighs more than a secret.] ~ La Fontaine

The secret being that she has conceived...only her body knows this secret and keeps it so for a while! When she counts backwards she realises that this was the night of nights. The poem doesn't let on either except for its title! The poem only observes and doesn't comment...just sees her and the state of the room for what it is...the new millennium cometh and makes her a lady in waiting.

The poem insists on keeping its mystery....it is not necessary for it to give it up! The explanation lives amongst the backstory with the little afterglow of knowing if one wants a little more insight into what was going on....although one does not have to know that!
Joel Hayward May 2017
Everything is out of place

a curiously dead wife on anyone's bed in a city long forgotten

her soul departing from an old people's home

lip hanging lower than it used to

new running shoes in the corner

disposable nappies next to a bra on an unused food tray

eyeliner on eyes that hadn't opened for days

cold skin in a room into which the sun streamed

morphine flowing through a tube into a life that had left

devotion from such an imperfect husband

who knew she'd hate her hair like that and stroked her fringe back into place
Gynecology appeals to the rooting instinct and not just among pigs,
apartment-dwellers too crave the spotlight especially in cheap digs
A tree puts strength in its cambium membrane, seeds, bark & twigs
whilst outgrowing the imperilment of remaining grounded as sprigs
It was not long before the Rolling Stones were being paid for gigs,
in the day when greasy Guineas plugged sheenies & cultivated figs,
decades before sainted negroes thrived as reactionary brillos & nigs
when a schweinehund on par with Club of Rome's lard-*** Al Gore
was realistic enough to accept his natural vocation as a male *****
even though no Avon salve could rescue him from being still sore,
he collected for prostitutional services that there existed no bill for,
while at Sea World Shamu can't fit through a pinniped or seal door,
as whale flesh ain't no antidote for pill-heads on America's pill tour
Keep whacking the side of your head to hammer out doubt till sure
you become of religious piety while acting out a radio-active story
that destroys tumors and fecundity while rewarding war-won glory,
for critical menticide administered to each Margaret Thatcher Tory,
to render brains slack so that each id's reduced to a formless slurry,
and made denser & dumber than the dumb-*** mind of Ann Curry,
who sits around picking fleas off her pet rats calmly with no worry
like a pederast whose name is Marion but likes to be called Murray
because of thickset hair that was as curly as Bill Clinton's was furry
it made Hillary's perverse predilection into a ****-emergency hurry
as she faced extortion rackets entailing mucho homosexy potpourri
It's I.T.T., A.T. & T., F.P. & L. and A. & P. in lieu of slave-holder
In a demi-godly role of being everyplace looking over my shoulder
Like advice taken to heart by a ***** the tenth time you told her
On the occasion of the hundredth time that a ****** **** sold her
Put down that rifle and also that cup as there are doggedly two ratty
trees of wood: wood I stole & wood I shoplifted as doggy eats pup
Congratulations *******, you won the Nobel prize for shutting up
Move from a hovel & put down that shovel as there are 2 unkindly
kinds of wood: stolen & discounted as my rabid ***** eats her pup
****** Mary Jane Christmas to Quakers winning gifts for rutting up
Return my shovel and **** a guppy as there are 2 hunks of wood:
wood I stole & wood shoplifted as a dog ***** eats a hungry puppy
Cheers cancer-ridden surgeon, here's the Shaw prize for cutting up
The tall first wife, who was fleet of feet, was the easiest to book for
she preferred rat tail over bat wing and won as a dream to cook for
she hid herself very obviously therefore she wasn't hard to look for
her manifold athletic talents made her the leanest witch to hook for
Give me your hirsute/textile/hombre love you lovely hairy rag man,
with your pointy nose, unlimbered leg & warts from Larry Hagman
who from the horse's mountable side snuck up like an airy stag ram
Don't take what little's left via state Santa Christmas merry bag ban
Let's dress like women in debt at the oldest Chuck Berry drag stand
My happiness is easily seen in blood-letting cirques as corpuscular
while my rippling backwards frontage is of a physique so muscular
that it is known by fat aunt Joan as socked-in and highly avuncular
In icy Florida I pine for Klondike my favorite Alaskan lesbian lover
who, in our gay igloo, resembled that big oily ****** Danny Glover
whose **** buddy Mel Gibson made him half less pockless gaining
☹a little more of plenty above Kenai's northern-lit blinding darkness,
and punctuated by those empty promises of ****-driving starkness
that were dogged by monster sightings quite common to Loch Ness
where **** Welshmen smoke Scottish-spiced cigarillos smockless
Fear not as chronically-starved people are traditionally not so tough
so feed the hungry & while they are eating steal their bags and stuff
as unarmed Cymry won't do more than storm off in a Goidelic huff,
akin to a Tom Jones hissy fit of ***-wriggling dancing and gay fluff
This normal man wonders: How much public ******* is enough?
Pushing Fukushima scenarios beyond the point of a no-return bluff
and extraneous of a federal Continuity of Government powder puff
while parked on a decrepitly-reliable-ever-burgeoning-lard-*** duff
white men, like coal miners, mine mineable depths of Filipina ****
gynecologically like the average gynecology enthusiast off the cuff,
rejecting Bicol pathogenetic carpet chaw to dip Copenhagen *****,
a sprinkling 'tween lip & gum proves that no slanted ****'s too tuff
A trans-orbital lobotomy's necessitated when plants are root-bound,
Hello Addisonian crisis dysfunction when adrenal glands are found
insufficient when production of adrenaline is diagnosed as unsound
Mormons note the absent look of foremen in the Book of Mormon
and an absence of the Book of Mormon in the outlook of foremen
You hid it 'cause I can't find it every elsewhere a package for string
this catastrophe that threatens tragedy above the tryst below a fling
With cords knotted tightly around something tumorous I won't sing
It is the chlorine that cancels detergent in that electric washer thing
beneath cellar steps that David Niven's wife fell down while hiding
I lost her you found her, it's a dollar for riding plus a fee for finding
all broads blinded to inequity and to chick Nazis' unguided guiding
Oh Lord with such ease the slippery have slid into slipshod sliding!
The frailties of free men're exploited by N.S.A.'s jingoistic deriding
General Ike exposed the military-industrial-congressional complex
which strikes against the citizenry by venomous rattle snake reflex
faster than a dope-crazy Marilyn Monroe could reach for a Kleenex
thru curvatures in a third-dimensional, spatially-pornographic helix
that approximated the Mexi-milkers of actriz: la doña María Félix
rutting elephants in musth must respect advisory: kneel-harm-****,
to honor the moon-hoaxing memory of chronic liar Neil Armstrong
as obviously for **** Rosie O'Donnell her gay meal alarm's wrong
Johns familiarized themselves with Lillian Russell by buyin' ** Lil
as masochists meet masochistic needs with movies of Ryan O'Neal
Sadists satiate sadistic surges sharing sermons sold Séamus Ó Néill
& beheld-redemptive pleasures for patrons of free mass soul appeal
I'm nailed in my sub-par carpentry by all do-gooders of the nail ban
to the point where I'm willing to mail my big sister to the mail man
who's part & parcel of a mail-fraud plot & brother's can't-fail plan
Escaped & uncaught I will be no prison monkey's cell-mate-jail-fan
'Cause shorts clothe Richard Simmons' lard *** he has a pale can as
oil-from-rock Daniel's been given the pétrole epithet Ol' Shale Dan
Latino block & cinder create distortive Hispano-Américano rubble
'cause stirring up spics & greasy wetbacks invites N.C.L.R. trouble
Stand back anti-pope as I am about to burst your pederastic bubble!
Your egg-shell-thick pate's no match for a black jack as this club'll
smash its way thru cardinals, reverends, ministers, priests & dukes
to make cream taste like ***** and turn cake into what a dog pukes
Under U.S./Euro socialism there'll be no guy who's a young codger
and popular forenames will be banned including Preston and Roger
Trans-national entities whip horse dung into curdled cottage cheese
while denying rescue inhalers to asthmatics enjoying a bad wheeze
so as to avail publicly purpled aureolae of ready women who tease
Now is the time to release the promised South American killer bees
as the hour's passed to exact vengeance for a beheaded Robert Lees
Mafiosos contract that Joseph Valachi-types be capped at the knees
then hanged by their what's-her-names from il duce poles and trees
in such a fashion that'll tighten the ropes by cough, belch or sneeze
Long legs, wrong eggs, strong pegs, King Kong begs with a song of kegs
Let us dog dealers of wieners & corporate schemers: those 2-bit reamers
extend a left leg into the sacred space of my right one for time remaining
It's easy to harp on topics commiserate with crap profitably entertaining
A man who courts dogs & a court manned by dogs quibbles over kibble
Dogs devoid of canine teeth are not as happy to gnaw and to nibble
The Arc of the Covenant bestowed ancient promises metaphysical
shedding cockroach-scattering illumination that set courses tragical
on a populace & citizenry that were more attuned to an era magical
Before Zionistic Elders prepared an Order within cabals strategical
Beneath plum sunsets & catchy maladies that deafened folks lyrical
“Turn me on dead man” the Beatles backwardly warbled mystically
as the means and the method to sexcite vampresses gynecologically
For all shoulder-locked movements sway men anthropomorphically
Let us seek bi-lesbians who fear concerted opposition diametrically
as their prized packages remain barren, as they spawn ineffectually
Sappho's ovarian host pouch is barren as ***** meld ineffectually
as Western, Fallopian-tubed freakazoids are ****-probed habitually
Sapphic ovarian balloons shrink when hens ******* reciprocally
On Pearl Harbor Loch a false flag blackened Mister Moto's beacon
by shadowy, white manipulators under a U.S. sinister, proto-deacon
who, as a cousin-marrying-pipe-******* *******, emulated Lincoln,
the war-loving queer who went above & beyond his task to weaken
the will of sovereign states to sustain free-market economic health,
by exacting confiscatory taxes resulting in punishing capital wealth
The Beatles were creatures of M.K. Ultra's institution at Tavistock,
lost to a shocking future as shown by Alvin Toffler in Future Shock
whereas nothing can help us from taking an epidemiological knock
by Mao a la Trotsky, a la starvation wages via phony-baloney stock
in the image of Pol *** a la Lenin contrary to righteous John Locke
Our fused-egg brothers gestate together, flying as a migratory flock
dolled up in vestry wardrobe: papal bikini brassier, ******* & frock
awaiting George Orwell's 1984 English socialism known as Ingsoc
X number of years before Nancy Kwan wed ski champ Peter Pock,
& after Bob Ripley's Oriental/Occidental miscegenation ****** talk
as it was curlier than was Nimoy while he portrayed Vulcan Spock,
whose sweetness was unrehearsed, unrestrained & of a sickly mock
once taken, out of time as taken twice daily on any ol' broken clock
flesh stripped & exploited as the flightless relic of Earth's great auk
enjoying the laze of Sunday oblivious to extinct Darwinian schlock
as chastised love is Leonard Nimoy-pitiable with chastity-belt lock
Upon a Massachusettsian shore puritans purified Plymouth's Rock!
Forever amounts to nothing in betrayal of Heinlein's empathic grok
Back off quack as I'll **** the next 1 of you applying scalpel to ****
as a dad must regarding neo-Kantian, fatherless-**** Johann Bach
Deep in hell's bowels fricassees Jew Elizabeth/***-to-Death Taylor
who did every Joe Nobody from Captain Crunch to Norman Mailer
A harlot ***** was she from 10 niggerly toes to scary mulatto tone
as hellishly deep in Liz's brain was a splinter of hamster wish bone
& her ***-end was broad from fat foods Safeway to her would loan
Beneath her 3rd world-chiding heft Larry F's lawn chairs did groan
as this princess of whales never said no to hog jowls and corn pone
which made an interesting cut-out to novices of the porpoise prone
There won't be another Liz till Rockefeller perfects a Warner clone
with the aid of sewing machines to hem-stitch hems that need sewn
& a positronic brain stem to achieve mortality previously unknown
since Alex Bell pilfered **** inventor Antonio Meucci's telephone
Truth is light that Illuminists keep shadowed, darkened & unshown
for Hank & Phoebe Snow and Johnny Winter who would not atone
Thomas Edison stole or bought the patents to ingenious inventions
that he was more than happy to claim as his brilliant contributions
to the wealth & state of inquisitive Mankind's Earthen conventions,
also he took credit for Biblical allusions to immaculate conceptions
Which Bible books Tom Edison wrote no G.E. employee mentions
as stealing, purloining and commandeering were his 3 predilections
True historians know well charlatan Edison's dastardly elaborations
To pinch a hairy, chapped man is wrong as it puts him in more pain
For century-old Harry Chapman Pincher pinching made him insane
His unholy joy was to lay prone with mouth open to catch acid rain
& then hop into the commode to affect a toilet-related ankle sprain,
not too unlike Richard called **** & Jean who liked the name Jane
whose corpulence demands a piano coffin burial with crawler crane
Formaldehyde replaced 7 quarts of blood that went down a drain as
the proverb fits: when there's nothing to lose there's nothing to gain
Alan Ladd snuffed himself over a self-destructive hatred for Shane
and because Sue Carol preferred men of height Ladd couldn't attain
without elevator shoes & leading-lady actresses walking in ditches,
the love-life that humbles a netted shrimp into paralytic twitches as
Alan often got nothing from Brentwood ****** & witches because
****** pimps don't scrape **** off them Hollywood swanky *******
Tragically it's true that God's in the details & Satan's in the glitches
when Hippocratic Oath-denying doctors say don't bandage stitches,
it promotes infection needing treatment that add to a quack's riches
Apply no anti-bacterial salve unless your unbandaged wound itches
Amerika will be a Marxian paradise after we guillotine the snitches
harvest their organs, cremate & consign their ashes to crude niches
Give me, give me, give me, I can subsist not on a mere, single bean
Hey cheapo, get off your greasy ***, take me to Dairy Queen as my
**** is shaved, bra's padded & all kinks are relaxed by Afro Sheen
Western ***** are fattened for slaughter as sloped slants grow lean,
for lack of appendix, tonsils, adenoids, warts, piles, moles & spleen
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best
When I'm not utilizing forks for recreational after-meal dog-jabbin'
I am staking out hog farms for the planning of gainful hog-nabbin'
or making log-planing modifications on my pine-logged log cabin,
before crossing teamster picket lines for wage-earning job scabbin,'
I take pains to avoid being skinned in a Jimmy Hoffa mob stabbin'
A thousand Confucian truths drive my happy dreams to nightmares
as bi-****** pass out on Calexico-Mexicali-low-calorie light beers
I haven't the moxie to skate through hydrants of fate terminological
as those 78 crumb-bums behind T.V. “comedies” wax scatological
Ernie killed Chip & Robby to stamp his father a cipher biological
He hadn't room for women for production smacking gynecological
The last time he looked skyward his thoughts weren't cosmological
S.O.B. Ernest cursed routinely at arthritis diagnosed gerontological
He gives not a harlot's hello for innumerable faults anthropological
nor to lend his energies to scopes that abuse harmonics hormonical
as he stumblingly falls prey to meanderings sickishly trophological
Lord of Hostesses salvage carcass mine from insults cancrological
Redeem me in sudden form humanoid of activities pathogenetical
We mourn in Gettysburg's city as unrepentant lesbians on probation
Defying errors inflicted upon soldiers who forsook proper vocation
Anti-poping Argentine Francis as he's ****** to Satan's invocation
It remains the best course to abide by stellar laws of spatial rotation
Whether one's nationality is Romanian, Finnish, British or Croatian
Lost people will eat food outside their region &
I am tired
I come home from a long day at work
With the ******* of coworkers
And hordes of families letting
Pesky ******* children jump around
Putting hands in the toppings
Touching the glass cases
Throwing tantrum
After tantrum
After ******* tantrum
Rude *** ladies who act like it’s my fault the machine broke
Want to be rude to the nice woman who has 4 kids and wanted to sit in
One of the two booths
Yet, she had to move her *** with 1 kid to take their spot
Spend 3 hours cleaning up after people who left the store looking like a junkyard
Not getting enough money for the **** I go through
I am ******* tired
My feet hurt from the continuous throbbing of running around like a chicken who just had its head cut off
My knees are sore from the never-ending squatting of refilling spoon trays

Head is vibrating from the bass of the secret festival I did not expect
I want nothing more but to sleep for hours on end
To spend the day in my bed
No bra
No pants
Wrapped tightly in a blanket and watching Scott pilgrim vs. the world for the hundredth time
Nothing more but to walk into my room
And fall on the bed and get lulled to sleep
I’ve had a terrible long day
Matter of fact a long *** week
Soon to be a long *** month
But I will still endure a full 8-hour shift
Hearing screaming children
Cleaning after rude, lazy, incompetent mothers who don't watch their sons

Come home hook my phone to a charger and talk to you until you no longer have internet
Or you fall asleep
I will have a painstakingly long day
Where all I want is the comfort of my blue quilted blanket
And my 6 fluffy pillows
But would rather stay up and text you
Hear about your day
Tell you about mine
Push off the nagging feeling of droopy eyes
Just to call you weeb
Just to tell you how much I miss you
And even if it is 5 minutes
Or 2
I will stay up and wait for your message
I am tired
But will never be tired of talking to you
actual time stamp also was lowkey a rant
sandra wyllie Jan 2019
Lift these sagging *****
With an underwire bra
Lift my bad mood
like a shining star
Lift the mean of the world
like my shampoo
Lifts the dandruff
Out of my scalp too
Lift my sad eyes
With a broad smile
Lift all my defenses
With compassion
Lift these mistakes
With forgiveness
That’s all it takes
Lift my spirit
Like a helium balloon
Put a song in my heart
Float me away
Not a moment too soon
Lift love
Like it was leaven
In bread
We don't need hate
The world needs a face-lift
And fast
It's not too late
Don't let time pass!
Terry Collett May 2015
Having left Benedict
having to to go back
to lessons after
lunchtime recess

Yiska sensed her body
kind of rebel
sitting at the desk
as the teacher Miss N

began outlining
the brainwashing
for the period
something about

some Magna Carta
in 1215
it seemed her body
wanted something else

and as she sat
gazing at the black board
it seemed to leak
as if

she was
melting down
as if part of her
was seeping away

and even as she
picked up her
fountain pen
to begin to scribe

what Miss N
had started to write
on the board
her -what her mother

termed was her
down below-
seemed to feel
as if a flood

was about to begin
a leakage
as if some dam
had revealed

a weakness
in the structure
a thin line of parting
Miss N spoke

of Runnymede
as she scribed
on the board
with chalk

boring talk
and Yiska wanted
Benedict to be there
wanted his kiss again

his lips on hers
warm on warm
wet to wet
his hand along

her spine
his fingers feeling
her bra strap
and she feeling him

against her
yes it felt
like leakage
and even as she

dragged her mind
into Runnymede
and the Magna Carta
in 1215

and all
such history
she had the sensation
of the leakage mystery.
A GIRL AND THE SENSATION A BOY HAS ON HER MIND AND BODY IN 1962 DURING A HISTORY LESSON.
Terry Collett Feb 2015
Milka's there
by the sink
washing up

miracles
do happen
her mum says

watching her
I watch too
the figure

the outline
of *******
through her skirt

take this in
her mum says
it's a rare

event this
washing up
I'm watching

but not that
washing up
but the slight

impression
through her blouse
of her bra

it's a sight
isn't it?
her mum says

to young me
open mouthed
it sure is

I reply
it's not rare
Milka says

I've washed up
before this
at Christmas

her mum says
after tea
her mum looks

at young me
smiling wide
I'm glad she

(lucky me)
cannot see
what I see.
A BOY WATCHES HIS GIRLFRIEND DOING CHORES IN 1964
Craig Verlin Apr 2015
The young women show up
at this old man's door
with their legs ripe
and long and their
skirts short, so short,
and framed against
those forever legs with
the bronze, sun-kissed
amber of skin that tastes
of the sweet, clean salt of sweat
in Summer warmth.

They knock a few times in
quiet, tentative rap with
slender, thin knuckles
before moving quickly
away toward the stairs
--No, this was a bad idea,
I should have never came--
Blushing furiously as I crack
open the door with a slight ****.

I am ugly in crazed eyes and
stained shorts and no shirt
and broken air conditioner
leaves me standing in thick sweat,
but it is the old dirt-sweat
of an old dirt man,
and it tastes stale and sour
as it drips downward
from my temples.
She smiles,
shy and honest enough
for me to want her right
there where she stands,
asks if she can come in.

My place is a wreck and
she doesn't mind
as I apologize for it,
but I feel terribly for it
and wish she was gone,
the wine is almost
finished but we drink it down
even though it is warm
and the glasses sweating
within our hands.

Copulation comes easier
than conversation and
so she is silent atop my lap
except for the nothing whisper
of *** in my ear, the breathed
moan of lust in the dark rooms.
--Baby, you're beautiful,
oh, oh, you're beautiful--
and I don't much have the heart
to correct her but it
appalls me that
she could think so
knowing myself as I do,
most likely she is
only acting anyway,
so I don't think much of it
except to nod and flip her
over and she is all
legs and *** and ****
but she is self conscious
and won't let them
out of her black-lace bra
and I let her have her insecurities.
Instead, I'm with those endless legs
like golden honey and so sweet
and smooth and burning
with that inner heat of womanhood
and Lord, doesn't it
just feel good to be
young again?

If only for a second
within those eyes
and arms and
legs
legs
legs.
kirk Nov 2017
All the classic adverts a lot of them are missed
Adverts that are made today the producers must be ******
They're nothing like the classic ads I'm afraid I must resist
There isn't any flare or finesse so please would you desist
The same adverts are always shown there's no surprise or twist
Adverts are not liked these days I hope you get the gist
Your all just sitting there with you ***** clutched in your fist
Messing up your nice pressed suits with a swift one of the wrist
New adverts bore you to tears but it's all that you enlist
Cos your making more backhanders it's why you still persist
Stop relying on the sponsors we know there **** is kissed
And take particular notice of the old ones on this list

A skeleton with video tapes told us how its gonna be
Re-record not fade away with Scotch's lifetime guarantee
Whiskers was the food of choice according to the stats
It was preferred by at least eight out of ten cats
Noodle Doodle twisted spaghetti into motor cars and houses
He twisted it into butterflies and eek noodle doodle mouse's
A hippo made a fruity drink way down in the Congo
He danced a dainty tango and a rhino called it Um Bongo
There was only one Tea that could make you go OO!
Sue Pollard and Frankie Howard found out with Typhoo
But those little Tetley Tea Folk know without a doubt
That 2000 perforations would let the flavour flood out
You knew what to do to put the freshness back
Every time you vacuumed and did the Shake and Vac
Don't wake up and go to town use the one all over smell
Insignia's shampoo and deodorant, aftershave and shower gel
Jeremy had a roaring toothache again he liked to many treats
he could have had a crocodile smile without eating sweets
She was the Right One she would skate to get it there
Nicollete Sheridan delivered Martini anytime anyplace anywhere
A second class ticket to Dottingham a misunderstanding caper
Tunes could make you breath more easily with its Menthol vapour
Milk in every half pound one chunk lead to another
With a glass and a half for every Dairy Milk lover
Muhammad Ali and Benny Hill knew their coming fate
They watched out with a Humphrey about, drinking Unigate

If your into protection with your Mate's or a Durex
You'd get that rubber feeling during penetrative ***
Unless your like Fred Brewster and Geronimo was there
A friend that was washable and like an inner tube to wear

A chocolate bar sang about everybody's case of the Fruit and Nut
David Rappaport could tell it was Tizer when his eyes where shut
Kia Ora's to orangey for crows, it was just for him and his dog
Spuds wanted to be Smiths Crisps and not an average Joe Blog
Bars Iron Brew from Girders the Scottish people like
A second thought at junctions think once think twice think bike
You Crossed your heart for a better figure with a Playtex Bra
The Renualt Clio had a certain flair for Nicole and Papa
Flowers delivered from Interflora making your day bright
It was a taste to make you shine ohhh ohhh Vitalite
Sainsbury's world war one solders shared and called a truce
Maynard's Wine Gums set the juice loose aboot the hoose
Why would you have cotton when Galaxy was silk?
It was cool for cats when you woke up to Milk
The man from Del Monte loved fresh fruit so he said Yes
Frosty's where Grrreat, Tony Tiger expected nothing less
But Esso was the only petrol with a tiger in the tank
A galloping black horse was the icon for Lloyds bank

Its your life with Tampax you jumped around and skated
Jack Dee had John Smiths, was his Widget overrated ?
Flowers where given on Impulse hoping the ladies dated
Mr Soft loved Trebor mints a strange world was created
Flake was the Crumbliest chocolate was that understated?
Marmite was the kind of spread you loved or even hated
Michelin Man was made of tyres he was rubber weighted
A family always had there diner, with Oxo it was plated

Castlemain Four X wouldn't give anything else, Australians would preach
Unless you where Paul Hogan and Fosters Amber Nectar he would teach
But Heineken would refresh the parts other beers could not reach
Strongbow was strong straight and true made from apple and not peach
Broad at the shoulders slim at the hips Big Bad Dom Domestos Bleach
The Jolly Green Giant loved Sweet corn with his ** ** ** speech

Please broadcast something good, instead of all your trash
There is No Cornetto's from Italy! none shown from this stash
Like Cadburys and Nestle or the robot men from Smash
You had a break with Kit Kat and convenient packet mash
No Dr Whites ***** Pads I don't mean to sound so brash
Where is Castrol GTX or Buzby there's not even a rehash
All Gambling and Insurance Ads tying to get our cash
No concern about the national debt or any loan backlash

Rolf Harris teaching kids to swim in the water they did love it
I bet if they where around today they'd tell old Rolf to shove it
I felt sorry for that poor Churchill dog I admired his endurance
To put up with Rolfs wobble board that isn't much insurance

Jimmy Saville talked of safety he clunked clicked every trip
But Jimmy's mind was somewhere else thinking who he'd like to strip
And British Rail where unaware when he was trying not to slip
With Jims intent with his Railcard to get you in his grip

You may think its controversial, you may think its the wrong call?
I Guarantee the companies thought they where on the ball
I bet these ads are a blot and drive them up the wall
If they'd have known about these guys they wouldn't feel so small
These companies would not have hired Jim or Rolf at all
It doesn't matter if they're the ones who are not standing tall

Why cant new adverts be like the old ones that we had?
What's happened to production why are they so bad?
They are all so boring and there really rather sad
None of them are out there that make you feel so glad
Why do you insist on showing ones that drive us mad
Your viewers are so ******* board more than just a tad
everyone is getting annoyed even our mum and dad
stop showing the new adverts stop ruining our pad

We don't want life insurance or sponsors for every show
We don't want Go Compare adverts, the Gtech can surely go
There are no Classic overtones they've lost that certain glow
Its boring seeing the same adverts shown in the same row
Phone commercials are not wanted it may be quite a blow
Loans and expensive Sky packages the people should say no
Please would you take some advice stop keeping these in tow
And bring back all the classic ads and stop going with the flow
Timothy Brown Feb 2014
She greeted me with purple hair,
in a purple dress
with a single, exposed, white bra strap.
She knew she looked good by the way I missed my next step.
As I fell, her gaze caught me.
I floated, not so gracefully,
into the
embrace of the cold, gray concrete;
I blinked. She winked.
Then there was a distinct sound that made my heart ripple.
She giggled.
© February 13th, 2014 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.
Shady Kay Jan 2019
If you feel a little blue
and the sky's a strange hue
of a red-brown goo,
then you've probably got the flu.

If you see multiple views
while you're trying to poo
and the dog's about to moo,
then you've probably got the flu.

If you're holding a saw
to the man with the bra
and your llama has a monkey as a pa,
then you've definitely got the influenza.
2010
Kabelo Maverick Apr 2014
Ode
Pure existence breeds contempt like the Persecution of my King or that Book without chapters and numbers. And so Passive Resistance leaves Comrades discontent about the execution of being ‘you’ without ‘Chambers and Partners’. Grew apart with a friend, next time was like seeing an alien ship, left a blind spot open for desperation, friend or foe? And got stabbed in the back…Fooled into thinking it was companionship, didn’t watch my spot in anticipation and so the “Rand” he chose and got the money in the bank. Yearning for a shoulder to cry on or perhaps a sighing door…and yet year in and out, getting older in these Love Crimes lying coz’ of colder trying times, fix those Goodbye threats or that’s her signing off. Mental toil stifling like a treadmill on quicksand, what could it be but Debts. Metal and Oil, at least she’s still shuffling and not threatening…Must make a quick plan to bridge the gaps. Not to mention the Bigotry at work from a brother did I Mention? Just so he can grow a ‘Bigger Tree’ out of work from the Brothers, can you imagine? Unconscious stress suppression is make belief survival. Atrocious acts of violence surprise us, as we take this Life beneath what’s vital. A new hate is surfacing with deceiving smiles from Siblings, and now it’s too late for circling coz’ of this believing while we fall for the sinning. Blood spilled spots like, why couldn’t I put the dots together? But **** Spots are blueprints; it’s hard to put the plot together. Tried to rail your train of thoughts to the perils around my Mother’s condition, but somehow it evaded your vein of thought and now the devil’s around your Karma position.
These Scars are cracks to a revelation you’re not ready for, but your transgressions…
You marred bad on a ***** facing many odds bra…I swear to the Ancestors!!
Ode " a lyric poem, typically one in the form of an address to a particular subject, written in varied or irregular metre."
Samantha Marie Oct 2016
When I was 16
I thought love was a miracle.
Stars aligning and a lightning strike.
I just had to wait,
be in the right place -
a classroom, a gym class, a Target -
and my hair and my body and my acne and  and my teeth and my body and my body and my body,
wouldn't matter.
I would know what it felt like
to be happy.

When I was 18
I thought love was a cure.
I developed an aching.
A gnawing emptiness;
and I couldn't tell where I began anymore.
Like a moss on a rock,
sadness made my body a home and
my tears kept it growing.
Growing,
Growing-
gone.
I was tragedy
and love, of course Love,
would save me.

When I was 20
I thought love was a game.
I fell in love with a someone
who never wanted to love me.
The pain was...
excruciating -
and I had never felt more alive.
It was the thrill of strategy, you see.
Get a little skinnier,
buy a better bra,
send drunk texts that you
can blame on blacking out,
flirt with other men,
touch other men,
kiss other men,
lay with other men.
Lose yourself in other men.
Lose the game.
I learned that love was never meant
for playing.

When I met you
I thought love was fear.
Loving you was
like holding a butterfly
too tight - killing it
when you were only
trying to keep it safe.
You, you, you,
beautiful and honest and fierce,
you loved me like answering a prayer.
I loved you like a nightmare.
The fear was suffocating.
and we had to die
before I could wake.
Honey,
I am awake now.

Today I love you
and this love is
river water flowing,
even breathing.
Steady.
Love is trust.
(Don't mind my shaking hands, darling.
I'm not scared, this is just a reflex.)
You are the definition of risk and reward and I do love you so.
I love you determined, I love you brave, I love you happily.
You are the calm and the reality and the quiet observer andthe  hand to hold.
I am the hurricane and the optimist and the hand-shaker and the declaration of love.
We are not the same but
I am 22 and,
I think
I believe
I know,
we are love.
Grace Darling Aug 2020
when my body started changing,
i was asked to change with it.

my friend gave me concealer,
should be called "conceal-her"
why aren't boys asked to cover their face?

what's the point of a bra?
surely not my comfort,
the wire stabbed my ribs and
straps dug valleys in my shoulders

i was sent home to change
because the sight of my skin
was deemed ******

and when i was called fat?
i starved myself so that i would be wanted
and then they called me flat.

at what point can i just be myself?
Ellie Phant Dec 2017
My father was born a man of the earth,
I refuse to wear a bra,
and I shake off like a dog after every shower.
So why is it that I roam this sacred beach
cursing at the sticky layers of sand,
searching for a single slab of concrete,
a place to call home?
(The Greater Prairie Chicken: a grouse of open grassland, is known for its mating dance. Males display together in a communal lek, where they raise ear-like feathers above their heads, inflate orange sacs on the sides of their throats, and stutter-step around while making a deep hooting moan.)

So how you gonna keep ‘em
Down on the farm after they’d seen Paree?
After “displaying together” in
Their own private lek--
Communal though it was.
It’s May in Hemetucky.
I just got back from my
Twilight constitutional,
As Truman called it.
Harry—since I was born in 1949—
Tribute for my first Commander-in-Chief.
The moon was misted,
More than half full,
Myself half in the bag,
As they say.

As you know by know,
I live in one of those gated,
Golf-coursed, over-55
Lunatic Asylums,
A communal lek, as they say.
I’m stutter schlepping around the block
In my pajamas remembering that big sign,
So full of promise--ACTIVE SENIORS—
A veritable sexually promiscuous
Welcome Mat.
I made an assumption, you see,
That children of the 60s grown old
Would relish a life of legal **** in a
Gated sanctuary with hours upon hours of
“Let’s Hide the Pepperoni.”

I knew I missed those years,
That era of bra-burning &
Birth Control.
“*******,”
Wonton ******* & *******,
A bowl of Won-Ton carnality:
Wild abandon, mature ladies,
Their ******* in a ***,
At the bottom of their purse,
(Thank you, Joan Osborne)


Joan Osborne - Right Hand Man Lyrics | MetroLyrics
http://www.metrolyrics.com/right-hand-man-lyrics-joan-osborne.htmlLyrics to 'Right Hand Man' by Joan Osborne. Let me use your toothbrush / Have you got a clean shirt? / My ******* in a *** /at the bottom of my purse / I walk. (www.advertise/right-in-the-middle-of-*******-poem.com)

Yet, I languish here
Here in the now,
Having shown my cards too often.
After 10 years here no woman
Takes me seriously,
Given my unserious reputation,
Not to be taken seriously.
Which explains why I spend
So much of my time in Italy
Lately.
ShamusDeyo Apr 2015
I think Women are Hot and.
Should be shown respect
And all though I get *****
I take time to Listen

Can't get into Sports Teams
Know's what fashion is a Dream
Of Bob Mackie, Calvin Klien
Versace, Chanel, and Ralph Lauren

In the Kitchen I create with Panache
Tenderloin of Beef with Marsalle Sauce
Vintage Recipe Chocolate Cake at
Proper Temperature I Bake 'til Perfect

And shopping is a Spree as
Long as its not for me
Rather Shop a Bra for a set of knockers
Then Shop for a Pair of Kahki Dockers

When it Comes to Culture I am Allured
To Poetry, Art, Music and Stage
And so ever fond of thespians
Could it Be I'm a Male Lesbian


All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
LOL in touch with my Feminine side,
and it gave me a giggle LOL
Madeysin Mar 2015
Blowing kisses,
Is inocent she said,
As she drew the eye liner a little thicker across her eye lids,
  
Biting your lip,
Is perfectly okay,
As her lips bleed red,
Shade 918,

Uncrossing your legs,
Is a little inviting,
As the stilletos gleamed against the dim lighting,
She said,

Tight clothes,
Make me wanted,
She said as her body bended down,
A hand came down ******* her ***,

Bra less see through shirts,
Add to the thrill,
Her ******* profound,

Lace lingerie,
Makes the boys drool,

I'm a burlesque babe!
Don't look shocked,
I was raised this way,
Your deep stare unveils the secrets I have kept for so long
Every flick of your eye strips me down to my bra and thong
Naked and raw, I find it hard to lie
My scars, my imperfections become the apple of your eye
Now you see the reason I won’t tell my dad that my mom is cheap and easy
That every Friday night she hides in another man’s blanket while he is busy
-With workloads of paper he has to finish to bring home money
Yes, he was less of a husband but he was a provider than any of her men could ever be.
You told me I should free myself from what I know
But this is the only family I have, I have nowhere else to go.
Now you see the reason that I let the guy- the only guy I loved
-find his way out of my life and build new memories with a new crowd
It’s because he was unhappy, and she was the only thing that could make him feel good.
That is why I set him free, like every true lover would.
I felt so broken, you told me that this I shouldn’t regret
But I am always hoping that one day he’d end up with me instead.
Your deep words echo into my unwavering soul
Making love to my mind, sending me to an ******* fantasy
Slicing my insides like a dull knife, making my head go crazy
Piercing through every vain, making me remember that I am living in regret
Every whisper lingers in my head and makes me want to take a bullet
But without your words, I know I’d still end up dead.
With those words, you told me once that I am a woman of independence
-that I imbibe strength of character
But every wall I built you managed to tear down and shatter
You make me fall short and I even surrender
You uncover my secrets faster than I learn them, in my mind you create a mayhem.
A giant twister of ideas I could put into paper but before I even put it, you’ve already read them.
As I run out of ideas, I remembered the way you looked at me
Like I was a piece of deep and emotional poetry
Captivating and enchanting yet full of misery,
That moment your eyes were so skeptic but kind,
Making me confused or am I just blind?
Blind from all the hints you’ve dropped, Deaf to the sound of my heart
Numb from all the emotional beatings
You expose my body and my soul, you take me willingly as a whole
I’ll let you take everything though only a piece was left
I’ll let you lust for me, please make me lose my breath.
As I end this poem, I want to make you feel the same way.
I want to make you give in to the pleasure-ride with me in the storm
A storm that started the moment you stripped me out of every piece of my clothing
Now, let me be the one to take yours off and see you blushing
I’ll uncover every inch of your secrets, expose your every desire
I want to see if you could handle this raging fire
But deep inside I know you’d have the control in our little bedroom game
And I ‘d still be the one who’s tied in your bedpost frame.
AAYARA ZAYN Jan 2019
I am tired and tired of
Listening to ****** ****
Those lousy *****
About myself
And my personality
Judging by the character
Judging by the looks
Judging by the hair colour
Judging by the face
The first look
Oh yes!
The very first look
Why do you even Judge me??
Am I not a human?
Am I inferior to you?
I always thought
We could be family
I always thought
we could be best mom and daughter
Then there you go
Begging for forgiveness
And
Walking away like
Like
I am nothing
What is your problem?
If I dance and sing on the road
You scream
If I play you scream
If I help people
You scream
Is that it??
You screaming is  acceptable
While I
While whatever I do
Is a bother
I am tired of being scolded
On little things
I may be slow
But I can do it right
You don't have to
Meddle in my work
And I
If I want to go the party
Then
Why do you always have to stop me?
Is that it??
I know I know
At party I may have  liquor
But I promise you that
I won't have a drop of liquor
But that won't convince you
My brother
Yea my brother
If he wanted to go party
You allow him
You also allow him to treat me
Treat me like a ****
You let him do everything
While I
While I am trash bag
Whom you can throw
Why?
Why do you always have to
Make me work
Even at the time of exams
While my brother
Laughs at lousy video
He is acceptable
And
I am not
I am tired of you scolding me
Yea I have an alien face
Yea I have a bad set of
BREAST
yea you complain about it being
Big
Where are your motherly
Concerns??
I had to ask my friend mom
About having myself a bra
Are you paranoid??
Are you kind??
Oh!
What am I even asking, haha
"Mom mom mom
I am first in exams"  
You don't care
When my brother pass the exam
Party
You don't need a freaking party just
About being pass in exam
I am tired of you
I am tired of you
But today I am happy
Cause my Papa is
Gonna be here
You can say that
He is different from mom
He doesn't say much
But mom doesn't say anything
In front of Papa
I love him
Today he came from London
Business stuff
He is a handsome man
My life's man
I told him I aced the exam
He was happy and
got me a great  set of earrings
Wow
Papa
Please don't leave
I say
But but
He will not stay
He has work
But last night
He came to my room to sleep
With me
He asked
" Bebs care to let your ol papa
Sleep with you"
But of course I said yes
He made me feel so much better
He always say
Bebs overcome the world
Because you can do it
You are not a lousy ****
You are my daughter
My precious diamond
And
Yes as always
I try to overcome the world
I try hard
Practice
Because it makes you perfect
I will definitely overcome the world
And be your best girlfriend
Papa
Cause you are my handsome hunk
And I your Cinderella
If you remember that
I will definitely overcome
Overcome my obstacles
To overcome the world
Jill Anderson Jul 2012
I slip on spandex and shorts,
Pull on a tight sports bra and tank top,
Step into converse-- lacking proper sneakers,
Tie my hair up as tight as I can,
Clip back the strays,
Place headphones in my ears,
And walk out the front door.
Take a deep breath.
Go!
I jog slow trying to find my rhythm,
Hoping I still have one,
Speed up once I catch it.
Focus on the blurry distance
(You can't really run with glasses)
Trying to find a point to run to.
A goal
Something
Anything to run for.
My breathing quickens
To the point of pain
I slow down trying to catch it
Slow down some more
Then walk.
Just walk.
And reach the sad conclusion:
****. I'm out of shape.
Marshall Gass Apr 2014
No matter the colour of the skin
the shade of eye and the silver Mercedes
parked in angular arrogance
or the pin-striped suit and embossed briefcase.
This is all external. Internally lies a rot
that seeps through your emotions and spills
out your conversation of stocks and shares
and deals awaiting in the forest
of your investment. Money kills.
The lines jangle and rise with regular
asterisk displays of sharebrokers
meetings with profound number crunchers
all racing to the billionaire list on Forbes
unaware that at home the little
boy is playing with matches
and momma is looking out the window
watching a man across the street
meddling with his mistress'
bra straps. You would never ever know
how she feels in her own narcotic ecstasy.

Each day you are missing
she is rowing a boat to a
nowhere shore
where weasels wait to devour
her destiny !

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Dark n Beautiful Jul 2015
A woman know the face of the man she love
Like a sailor knows the open sea. Quote:

The way his eyes blaze at me like a hot furnace
Suddenly, he drop ice cubes inside my lace bra
my body bolts upright in a nanosecond,
I felt the cubes slowly, slowly melting down to my belly-button

My white cotton, embroidered dress clung to my chest
exposing my harden *******, my voice starts cracking or I even lose it,
Suddenly, one of Ernest Hemingway quotes pop in head
All thing wicked start from innocence:
A woman know the face of the man she love
Like a sailor knows the open sea: Quote*
However, I was slowly drifting out to sea in the arms of lies
Please don’t disturb my butterfly heart
Phephisa May 2016
We are both young and
misguided, She has that perfect *** that I can't help
but fantasize about...she's been that girl that I want
to both love and ****...until one day,when she
came over to my place,she was wearing a white
skin tight jumpsuit which revealed her perfect ***
and showed some cleavage...we sat and talked for
a few minutes and then there was that awkward
silence...I told her that:"I really want to take off that
jumpsuit and make love to you right now."She sat
thre speechless blinking rapidly,biting her lower lip,I
moved closer..we started kissing,I pulled her
lip,grabbed her *** with my hands,I then unzipped
her jumpsuit she wasn't wearing a bra,I took off all
the way to her waist..and there they were the two
sisters(*******) both firm and pointed my way...I
massaged them while kissing her,I moved down to
her neck,I kissed it softly,I then began *******,she
gasps,I move my hand down into her *****...she's
wet,I take off the rest of her jumpsuit,she is
wearing white ******,which I sniff..she smells
nice,her ***** is shaved,I insert my finger inside
her,she moans,I play with her ******,she is
moaning calling out my name,she ****,I push her
onto the black leather couch,put on my ******,I
slowly go inside of her,she gasps,her eyes and
mouth widely open,I start going in and out slowly
picking up the pace,she is screaming:"ohh God ohh
****,**** me ohh **** me hard phephsi,ohh baby
that's right ohh right there"I'm now ******* her
harder,my groin slamming into her phat ***,all the
thrusting and pumping goes on for a few minutes
and she **** before me,I *** a few seconds after
her..I watch her ***** releasing her ***,she is
shuttered I **** her *****,she freezes for a couple
of seconds I continues ******* she is screaming
louder than before...I **** her **** so gentle she
**** again...I stop and sleep beside
her...says"Boy you know how to **** and **** we
should do this more often" I give her a wicked grin and nod

— The End —