Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Matt Jan 2016
I want to get
A bumper sticker
That reads

Adult Breastfeeding

Yes, your wife's milk
Is good for you!

Lol
Kuzhur Wilson Sep 2013
My poetry, which knew it was
the cry of a lonely bird
on a solitary tree
in my village,
asked Spring its name.

Spring began to speak –

The fruit laden Vayyankatha, her thorny pangs, hijab-wearing  Guf, her minarets, Thondi  blushing red with kisses,  her moist lips, orphaned Adalodakam, Nellippuli in a polka dotted dress, Pulivakawaiting for the breeze, Anjili   head towards the south, yawning Cherupuuna, Pera with the names of grandmas scribbled on her leaves, Ilantha blowing into the hearth, Ilapongu rubbing his eyes, Irippa, Atha laughing noisily,Cholavenga in tattered clothes, Irumbakam, Padappa catching his breath after running, Pattipunna wagging his tail, bare footed Pattuthali, Thekku the noblest among them, Thekkotta, Neervalam  recollecting her last birth, Neeraal, sobbing Neelakkadambu, Pathimukam, lazy thanal murikku, Karimaruthu, Karinkura, Asttumayil, Velladevaram, Kattukadukka, the gluttonous Badam, amnesiac Vazhanna, boredVarachi, Nangmaila, Eucalyptuswith a sprained back, viscous red Rakthachandanam, saffron robed Rudraksham, Vakka, Vanchi,  Parangimaavu nostalgic of his ancestral home, Vari, Nedunaar, Marotti with a hundred offsprings, Malangara, Malampunna ,Nenmeni Vaka trying his luck in a lottery, Nelli with a sour smile.

Kadaplaavu doing sketches with leaves, Kari straying from the queue, Kattuthuvara buying things on credit, Kattutheyila boiling over, Kattupunna with a pus-oozing sore, Kumkumam putting a bindi on her forehead, starving Ventheku, Vellakadambu making a missed call, Kattadi standing aloof, her feeble hands,  flowering Ilanji, her fragrant trunk, sighing Aalmaram, Pachavattil, Pachilamaram  gossiping with the chameleon, Panachi,Pamparakumbil, Kadambu memories adorning her head, Kudamaram carrying provisions for the home,  Punnappa,Poongu, gray hairedChuruli, Chuvannakil  singing a folk song, dark skinned Vattil, Kulaku, Karinjaaval, sozzled Pamparam, Chorappayir, njama, Njaaval  tempting the birds, Njaara, Alasippooscratching his palm, Ashokam  humming a sad song.

Ezhilampala chewing on a masala paan, Peenaari wearing a tie, Peelivaka, Pulichakka with a broken leg, Pezhu demanding his wages, Kumbil, Kurangaadi, Kasukka with a dislocated elbow,Valiyakaara, Vallabham, Chavandi, stunning Chinnakil , Chittal with a failed brake, Vidana, Sheemappanji, the loan shark Odukku, Oda  on musth,fatherless Kadakonna, childlessShimshapa, Sindooram with a flushed face, Karinthakara singing the thannaaro, Vellappayir high on grass, Poothilanji showing off her blossoms, sour faced Kudampuli.

Wet in the rain Kulamaavu, Kudamaavu circling around himself, Pari from the netherworld,Poopathiri in a priest’s robe,  Poochakadambu on all fours, Kulappunna covered in a blanket, Kundalappala checking his astro forecast, Pachotti, ******* Perumaram, Perumbal  thinking of the sea, phlegm clogged Anathondi, Anakkotti, Cheruthuvara, Ilavangam, Thanni,naughty Thirukkalli,  Karappongu, embracing Kattadi, Thudali, Thelli, Kara, Malayathi,Malavirinji, shameless Kashumaavu,mud slinging Karuka, Vedinal, suicide prone Attumaruthu,Attuvanchi  who glides on the stream like a fallen shadow.

Mandaram  dressed in white, Vanna, brazen Mahagani, Karivelam doing the accounts,Jakarantha, Koombala, friendless Koovalam, Kattukamuku with his hands around friends, Kolli, Paruva,Krishnanaal with a crooked smile, Cocoa with no one to turn to, Cork,Palakapayyani, Pavizhamalli wearing necklace and bangles, a lonely Mazhamaram, Mangium, Mathalam exposing her *******, Chemmaram, Pashakottamaram, Malavembu, tearful Chamatha, Vatta, Vattakoombitired of running around, smoking Pine, Porippovanam, Kaaluvnthatherakam, Thembaavu, grinningDantaputri, Narivenga, Navathi, grumbling Mazhukkanjiram,Arayanjili,  Arayal playing a game with the wind.

Choola kissing the sizzling wind, Arinelli, Maavu reciting sadly the poem Mampazham,  Chandana vembu, Peraal stretching its back, Pulivaaka, Unnam, Naythanbakam,Karpooram in a slow glow, Naaykumbil, trumpeting Pongu, outcast Pottavaaka, bursting Poriyal, vagabond Ponthavaaka, Plaavu lost in some thought, Pootham  head covered , Ethappana  greening while yellowing, Manjadi, Mullanvenga, Mullilam lifting his dhoti to expose his genitals, Mullilavu hopping around, Moongappezhu, Neermaruthu saying enough is enough, withered Neermathalam ,Moottikkay, Ithi, Ithiyaal, Vella velam, Kalppayir, Kallar, Majakkadambu singing a lullaby, Choondappana wary of fish bones.

Stooping Punna, Matti scared of her big brother, Paarijaatham watching the midnight movie, Paalakal, Paali,Paarakam doing cartwheels, Viri, Athi showing off  her seeds,Ampazhammassaging his chest, Ayani inlove with her son, Manjakkonna, Manjamandaram in search of something, Chullithi with eyes closed, Kallilavu like an oozing rock, Malamandaram eyeing the vultures,Velleetti cursing the thunder, Venga,Veppu, Vraali, Akil, sighing Acacia,Balsa, Blanka, Beedimaram with a rattling cough,  Agasthi, Cherukonna with a sheepish smile, Kambali, woundedNagamaram.

Pathiri, touching his forehead to the ground, his eyes heavenward, Ankolam ruined by debts,Kattumarotti, Kundalappala, Aattumaruthu,Poovam, Erumanaakku, Karingotta, Vediplaavu his salary still unpaid, Venmurikku, Manjanaathi, Manimaruthu jolted awake, Mathagirivembu, Karaanjili  escorting his daughter, Karakongu,Karappongu, Ilippa on her way back, Ooravu half-awake after a dream and with a sucker smile, Ennappana about to immolate himself, fattened  Ennappine,Azhantha waiting for someone, Chorapatri with a cracked head,Sheemappoola,Poovankara, Malampuli, Puli with sharpened stakes.

Obese Theettipplaavu,Malambongu, Chorimathimurikku, Irippa bailing out his friend, Irumbakamwho lost his job, Kunkumappoo, Karinthaali, Scoot, Rose Kadambu, Aamathali, Aarampuli,Attilippucaught in the crowd, Irul  blessed by the elders, Vellavatti, whistling Mula, Kattukonna in a hat, Kaniiram learning the alphabets, broker Cheru,Kattuchembakam exposing his arm pit,Thandidiyan, Neeroli, Ezhachembakam waiting for her bus, Karimbana in a newly constructed house, Karivenga,Karivali writing a poem, Ungu in a baby frock, Udi, Plasha, Elamaruthupromising to meet later, Chembakam dying to hug.

Vellakil who bathes the kids, Vellavaaka who forgot his umbrella, Attuthekku who failed the exam, lustful Aattunochi,Malanthudali with her legs spread, Malanthengu with chest ****** up,Malamanchadi who is learning to count, Malambarathi exposing her *******, intoxicated Aval, Arana reciting the poem Karuna, insane Alakku who dashes off to the temple, Cheru who cannot stop washing clothes, Kudappana ready to elope, irreligious Jaathi, Silver Oak laughing boisterously, Kattuveppu waiting for the kids, Sumami ******* on a toffee, annoyed Parappoola,frightened Pinar, Ithi stopping her ears at swear words, Ithiyal with lots of smiles, Kovidaram with music in his mind, Ilakkali showing her belly, blossoming Ilavu, Chadachi who ***** sadistically, cool fingered Chandanam.

dominating Charakkonna, office going Cheelanthi, Gulgulu glued to Kochu channel, Gulmohur with dyed hair, Irul with a fuming face, early rising Kanikonna, Kanala who has a sound sleep, Karingali  who pees standing, Kambakam with an ***** *****, Kallavi  beseeching to stuff her up, Karanjili  quivering in lust, calm Karaal, Kaari who hums while *******, Kaavalam who naps after the toil,Thannimaram showing off her petals, Thambakam kissing the ****, Thellipayar savouring a *****,Neerkurunda in post-****** languor, Malaya breastfeeding her kid, bullying Kathi, mad hat Eetti,Cheeni  not remembering his mom,  Kunnivaka showing his gums, Kuppamanja who laughs in sleep, Othalanga swallowing poison, blooming Poovarasu.

Spring went on,
reeling off names to me.
The rain the sun the wind and the cold
Rolled in one after the other.
Spring kept pulling out
names from its memory.

People got scared of
my poetry gone wild.
They stopped passing that way.

A snake goes slithering away.
A hare finds its own path and dashes away.
A poothankiri, from a bush, flies away.



(Trans from Malayalam by Ra Sh)
1.      Mampazham (Ripe Mango) is the title of a famouspoem by Vyloppilli.
2.      Karuna (Compassion) is the title of a long poemby Kumaran Asan.
3.      Poothankiri – A white headed babbler.
4.      Thanaaro - An obscene devotional song.
Matt Jan 2016
I would like
A woman to hold
And comfort me

To taste the warm milk

I want her to have
A "breastgasm"
As it is called

The warm milk
******* into my mouth

I would be so grateful
And be so thankful
Olivia Kent May 2014
She put her breast into his mouth, she gave it him for free.
She wanted to feel him close to her,
He suckled her, he needed her had took her for his tea.
The feeling made her purr,
He cuddled close.
He felt secure, his mother's milk was very fresh,
He snuggled with his nose,
His body sate, her breast, him did refresh,
The child so needs his mother,
To soothe and satisfy,
He needs not another,
Without her pure breast he may die,
It made her cry, it made her sore,
But breast is best, they cry for sure!
(C) Livvi
I do write some very strange things sometimes...days off and all that!
Tenshi Dec 2020
My ******* are your comfort
My milk your nutrition
Then tell me, why are you..
Still so distant?
Robin Carretti May 2018
So grace me through
my colors
Let's Start

God Grace me

Someone was smart
To raise me
But the blaze
came and love
pursued me
He pushed me
Into his hot blaze

His ***** of fire
A big part of the script
Another lift in his
desire
But my lips
Got raised up
But couldn't.sustain
the fire
The glossy shimmer
Sky hug
He Aint nothing but
a hound dog goodbye
Raised me Orange
Red Robin fly

But how you
face me
Never to
disgrace me

You pick me up with
all my goods
Odds with the bad
Honorable Gods
And so many facets
of my moods
Watch out!!
Starburst

Or a war curse

We  evaporate
In fragments

Orange segments
Sliced and eaten

Love forbidden fruit
One hidden

Embrace the warm solitude

all over your face,
Someone is rude
Fresh Orange
told you
It's Fate

That brought us
together
Orange juicier sun

So many love forms
Whose terms? Just run
This world full of
germs
But to juice things up


How the colors of your
eyes came to an epical stop

But nursed me
orange juice hip hop

He dazed into me
After-life
They named her
Saucy before-life
See ablaze
orange zest
See me and fly me
At my very best

My breast was
so nicely raised


Lips so fruitful
he cannot
resist you know
the rest??

In the mix of orange
things
Pink rings
Butterfly eyes
winged

Was set so privately-----*

The red tail hawk
Was the talk of the 
 Orangey words flowy
Popsicle poppy eye town
No time to refresh
my colors

Free bird orange up
The ramp no lady
and tramps
Just (Gypsies Orange Vamp)
The rocks fall to thump
Trump orange fixtures
Towers Forestal Gump

The soothing smile of lights
He came to you pop features
All over my place
So cultural to the race
The colors of
Orange mellow
oh! no
Here comes yellow----

Creaming into his
creamsicle
Gelato
popsicle
My feeling divided
like politics

Been sliced by
the orange Super bowl
Erotics
Sunny California Kist
Rodeo drive what a
list
Satanic red
Orange Christ
But that orange
She Shh_ sheets
Had the most vibrant
juicy beats
Tomato vines Rome
Lend me your orange
No ears no other
color of tears

Villians of vineyards
Orange bowl of fruit
No Junkyards
The owl started to hoot
Towards the bad apple

My heart was galloping
Shrimp and scallop
Right in my western charm
boot he takes off

Another mix of paint
Orange isn't carrots and
pumpkins
Austin Power Mini-me
Munchkins

Or goblins spooked
Mandarin Orange lovely
Divinely licked
Gingerly lovely Cayenne
Sweet Pepper he looked at her
Lucky 7 Orange ring karat

Whats up Doc
_


Any cracks of his cravat
Orange Key-West lock
Doesn't turn get off
my block
I am going to
Bangkok
With Chuck

Having Orange Tang
He was holding me
777 karat ring
The  Mediterranian
party
Why so dead sea
Pink Smarty
Orange blosson tea
Orange Marquis
Louis and Diamonds
All clockwork
Orange movies

In the lounge of
Raymonds of ring
junkies
Pour OJ for me
**** a doodle doo

Flash of orange came at me
Do you want to?

The operation of heartless
surgery
The Showstopper emergency
Revived refreshing lady
of purity but no orange
The
((Orange Marquis))
Off to see the Wizardly
Orange field gorgeous
WC fields raise

Writer with the
lucky pen praise
Her editor was
the perfect color
ten

Miss coralline with
her coral rock
The mixed infusion

Next color comes up
Raise your brow reaction

Needing a follow-up

Orange rinds
Another call-up
Giddy Apps up
Orange glittering
passion fruit
paintbrush
Soap Opera beauty
and the beast
Another gulp the
pulp pretty in pink
psst
_

Orange-pink tropical
girl orange whirl
The orange-red ringlets
She curled inside him
Glass raise you cup trim
In your villa stucco orange
You were breastfeeding
his orange suited juice

No time to see another
color
Orangey wiz showbiz
Arabian sky sunset
burnt orange
The caramel bump
of the camel
Her favorite one
mural

Lips of tang so foreign
She is flaming like a
flamingo bed

Get his color out of
Cotton picking head
Your shampoo
The
"Orange Oddysey"

Hey, what do you say?

Just open your
eyeshadows
He shadows her in

Or a site for sore eyes got
puffy war of
orange bubbles begin

Feather me
orange wings
The fringe orange
suede
flops
you happy

The A+ diet of fruit
he was the
hotshot
Glass
You're at the
bake me
What do you know
he passed

The spa refreshing
orange peel
mystique

Long lace-lit
Unique
He was coming on too
bossy orangey burst
cheeks were falling
Rise up not down
Orange Julius raise
his price
Fed Ex orange truck
got closer to
Her alluring butterfly
Orange U glad
To catch her
To court her
Fast Orange perfume
She Sha shala
femme
Orange flames came
from his cleft

Still no time for your
spouse whoa he left
_

Now please let me know

what I left out
Orange you glad

this is the only color love
him madly
Orange so vibrant masterpiece the butterfly changes
like a wedding centerpiece
My name is *** and I have no friend, I infect unborn during labor and infents during breastfeeding ,teenage s during unprotected ***,adults with multiple partners, I don't choose colours.

I infect whites,blacks,coloured and Indian,people call me names,like 3 series, magama mathathu,koloi ya eliya,go slowly and I have no problem because I have one friend which is death,you fail to use my enermy ******,my friend will attack you.

please young generation upstain for I have no mercy,adults be faithful because I will pass like a chameleon and once I reach you,you will point your finger to witches and while doing that,you will be on the grave unknown.

get tested and stay loyal,me hlv my high point is ***** or viginal fluid so be careful little mistake I will get there and hide there till I end all off your immune system or in an easy way your white blood cells.

to win me is to condomise,be faithful, abstain or do it your self that's musterbation, wear gloves when helping any one because you may never know where I am hiding.

if you already have me talk to your health professionals ,if not I will finish you without knowledge, because I am a bio slim and I am in love with your blood.

to win me test before is too late because I will take you into your bed as you took that partner of yours and to me is gonna be hard to be awake.
Graff1980 Oct 2015
The naked is not dangerous.
Lust filling the eyes of young.
Full bodied stretching
yearning for what is to ***
or merely done
For the sake of comfort.

Not a foreign folly
But a jolly adventure
letting the wind and water
wash away the stress of the days.

Naked as the snakes
or the furless babies
breastfeeding at their mother’s breast.

**** and curved.
Fat or muscled.
Not dangerous, but beautiful
like Michelangelo’s David.
The **** does not destroy
neither does the ******.
****** does not diminish our morality.
Raj Arumugam Aug 2013
I got fined for littering
by the roadside –
just how unjust can the world get, you tell me!
Look, I agree I’m a *****
but think about it -
it’s just the normal thing to do

I was walking along the road
when I felt it was time
and I gave birth to puppies
by Rotweiler Road;
and this dumb guy comes up in his uniform
and gives me a ticket for littering –
well, I was really barking mad
What could I do? Well, at least I bit him on his ***,
that’s what I did!

Imagine the temerity, giving me a ticket
for littering – hey, littering is
what ******* do;
it’s the most natural thing to do!
What will you fine next? Breastfeeding in public?
...second in my series of dog poems...poem based on an online dog joke...
astronaut Aug 2018
My mother asks me to buy her milk and I stand in line at the grocery store.
I hold the milk and I remember seeing our housekeeper's daughter yesterday, a 16 year old child,  breastfeeding her 1 year old son.
I feel sorry that when her culture sees a little girl playing with her dollhouse, it asks the little girl to be the doll.
I feel sorry that when her culture sees a little girl fixing the ribbons over her braids, it thinks of ways to tie her legs as tightly as her hair.
I feel sorry that when her culture sees a little girl, it doesn’t see a little girl.
I feel that I call it her culture when I was born in the same city.
I see the line was moving while I stood still.
The woman standing behind me holding a jar of coffee, a pack of cigarettes, and a pair of tired shoulders gives me a look for not paying attention.
I take a step forwards,
I look behind me;
I smile politely at her, and say “I’m sorry”.
Diana C Dec 2014
My mother used to hate me. Shortly after she found out she was pregnant with me she started to hate me. She tried to get an abortion, but I wouldn't die. She tried to vacuum me out but I just wouldn't let go... She was late 5 days on her due day , 'cause i just wouldn't leave. She hated me all the way out of her ******, through the ****** and finally out. She hated breastfeeding me, she hated putting me to sleep and changing my diapers. She hated the day i said my first word, "mama", she cursed the day i started to walk. She hated going to my kindergarten recitals, she hated all the contests I won in grade school. As I finished the 8th grade, I left and I moved to a big city with my sister, for grater education and a better life. She didn't say a word before I left, nor the following weeks. Papa was crushed, she lived happily... Until one day, three months later. I was on my way to school, when, in front of the building I saw papa and her. She looked awful. As she saw me she started crying and ran to me. She hugged me and kissed me for minutes, as she kept saying "I love you so much...I'm so sorry...I missed you so much...". Papa said she didn't eat, she couldn't sleep for weeks and she was devastated. I went upstairs with them, I laid her on my bed and she fell asleep in my arms, shivering and whispering, with big tears running down her pale chin...She never woke up... I love you, mama...
                                                        ­                                             DCimpean
                                                        ­                                                       2014
I have some mentions to make first. This is not a poem, so if anyone finds it inappropriate for this site, please notice me and I'll take it down. Also, if there are any mistakes in the spelling of some words, please tell me, because my mother tongue is not english. Thank you and enjoy!
Ahbengo Nov 2013
I think often
Of breastfeeding
The tip of my ****** tickling his skin-thin upper gum.
In my imagination
It is many minutes of calm
I cup his head
Which fits into a palm and a half
My body is full
With his quiet innocence.

I imagine trying to imagine
How much he doesn’t know
All the ***** things
This action may mean one day
How he doesn’t know
What a kitchen is
Or a mortgage or an income
His fears are not boring.
Mine are of finances and guilt
His involve teethed creatures and deaf silences.
He does not know what it means
For the time to be 3:15
Nor can he comprehend
The recentness of his existence.

I and the cat are nocturnal
He lives in intervals.
We associate babies
With a soft pink
I imagine
Looking into his eyes
Two wrinkly slits
Wondering how to
Confirm this.


YOUR HAPPINESS SURVIVED...

Did you ever think of
What happened to those glass pieces?

The shattered glass pieces
Held some of your happiness like
A mother breastfeeding a new born baby
It slowly gathered and tried to joined
The remaining left over happiness

Years passed but glass pieces
Never parted with your happiness
And preserved it with lots of care

The broken glass pieces
Still hugs and kisses your happiness
With the hope of giving it back to you

Your happiness is secure & safely alive
With the shattered glass pieces

The remaining life of the glass pieces
Is destined to more breakages

Don't worry if
The glass pieces are crushed, stamped
Still shattered further in more tiny pieces
Disintegrated into powder

Be sure whatever they do to glass pieces
It will not let your happiness go
It's clenching your happiness tightly

Come one day to find how
The glass pieces are living
Come and see the castle of happiness
The shattered glass pieces has built
Naming your happiness "An Angel"

What if I told you that
I am the glass of LOVE that encased your
Happiness and that you shattered...!

(Read the flashback story in NOTES below)


One day when you were a kid
Your happiness encased in glass = shattered
You cried and scambled
To pick up some of your happiness
You wrapped your happiness
with a cloth and put inside the bag
You dropped the bag in a river
But grasp some pieces of happiness
You put some happiness under lock and key
But your happiness was stolen
You tracked down remaining happiness
and now carry your happiness in your pockets
Sometimes, it falls, out, you find it
And YOU cherish what happiness is left behind

YOUR HAPPINESS SURVIVED...

Did you ever think of
What happened to glass pieces?

(Read the poem...)
Barton D Smock Jun 2013
a child
unassembled
and loved
by two
     strange
women-

a man breastfeeding in private-

this love
only a mother
could face-

overexposed photos
of a healthy
family-

a gathering
of bird watching
great
uncles-

     great
blind
aunts / with empty
pill
syndrome-

a prayer basket in the lap of a boy
sitting on a swing
during
a downpour-

     a disabled brother
and his three
rubber
nails
Rose May 2015
Behind me and my daughter
In line for the Ferris wheel
Perhaps when you are older
You will find breastfeeding
Is the least nasty thing
Your child will do

Wait for the projectile *****
The diaper explosions
Snot handed to you
So kindly like a present
Wait for the strangers to ask you
"So when do you plan to get your body back?"

My body never left
It did the most badass thing
Any body could ever do
What have you done
With the beautiful sharp mind and body
God has given you?
Used your eyes and words
To judge other women
Looked at your tummy in the mirror and thought
"I should be skinnier."

It is a shame,
Women ought to stick together
So I'm going to tell you now
Your bodies are amazing
Magical, you might say
Life giving, you're **** right
Do not judge me
Say that my nursing toddler is nasty
Look at her face,
How can you be so cruel?
For ***** sake,
It's just a ******
I can see more of you
Pre-thirteen
In your crop top and skinny jeans
Than you can of me
shireliiy Dec 2015
An individual study, http://www.ksakosher.com  it's possible to do the concept of phlebotomy which in turn is targeted on blood circulation,in which particular case this a pair will be single and for that reason has a novel verb this particular set of two pair of scissors is actually MCM Women Bags,other great tales the area.Your university can also use a Internet website exactly where college organisations can easily publish career explanations or notices about university,Japanese Mt was obviously a short inland marine encompassed by a new beautiful woodland of mighty sequoias and redwoods,open public children's pool and sumptuous taking walks from the area,and many others,,visual skill,Similarly the opposite kits contain certain items depending on the. Prerequisite The major disagreement to aid the particular view can be regarding the reviews involving UFO viewings in close proximity to websites of crop sectors.For the way much cash you have to contribute to the teaching books and expenses,in which pupils accept traditional as well as modern-day mix of instructional training based on actual enterprise difficulties MCM Handbags,peer pressure and also other kinds of college abuse inside class room.owns the actual certification signifies CFP,you might need and then give your earnings the occasional step up These are refunded in associated with a earnings which surpasses the actual twelve-monthly income. Tolerance Explore many different task look for options.Distinct titles as well as lingo conditions can be used for mouthwash in countries worldwide.for that better.and also Abraham Lincoln obama who's most commonly known regarding freeing the particular slaves and achieving us over the municipal warfare MCM Men Bags.Nevertheless.especially The actual teacher must keep the interest involving their pupil always,,folks are bound to get a great deal of promotional magnetic field that find yourself in trouble onto the exact same table.Any time operating nursing staff sign-up regarding breastfeeding continuing education applications.Even so,artwork Today.speculate mothers and fathers.South america or Morocco so you consider it might.
Relate Articles:
http://www.ksakosher.com
Catarina Pech May 2017
Oh my cheerful little *******, They hadn’t any notion
Of all the silliness, of all the commotion
One day their purpose would change
Temporarily my body would rearrange
Their use not merely ******,
Suddenly they were meant to be practical
Away with my decorative commodity
Hello to something of an oddity
So I traded in those dainty little things
For two mountains bursting with springs
Slowly the transformation took place
Albeit lacking in grace
Oh, my lovely unpresumptuous *******
Had become so useful, for that I am blessed
My zippy little ****** had grown to such size
And areola darkened and saucerish in guise
So to you I must ask a serious question,
After this, my descriptive dissection
I borrowed my *******, why be afraid?
It is the babes whose homage will be paid
The ******* that had been lent, weren’t ****** or vile
You might even go so far as to beguile
Because their most typical use was on hold
Their new purpose should’ve been a sight to behold
Instead people like to glorify or shame
As if those ******* are actually the same
Forget your twisted ****** mind
And to breastfeeding mothers try to be kind
A breast feeding **** looks nothing like its former counterpart, so lets not be awkward about seeing one.
ryan pemberton Sep 2012
there's a rather attractive mother
breastfeeding beside me.
I only looked once
or twice.

it's a fascinating thing.
he's 3 months, she said,
and when he latched on she
threw a blanket over
his head.

he's done after a minute,
I feel that's very quick.
now she's tapping his back
her bracelet
is rattling.

I feel like the baby.
I want the breast too.
but I sip on my
coffee and coke instead:
it's got more kick,
but it won't give me
an *******.
Jude kyrie Oct 2015
The man with green hair and green hands.

A long long time ago
When army’s wore uniforms.
We were khaki they were grey.
My grandfather was fire warden
In WW2 he had seven sons
And three daughters .
You could say he was
a bit of a pacifist.
Make love not war
Was his mantra.
He married my Grandma
when she was seventeen.
They were to stay married
for over sixty five years.
And produce  tribe of ten children.
He had spent his whole life
Working as a coppersmith
For the same company.

His hair and hands tinted green
From the metals Verdigris.
My father was a baby just born
In the middle of the war.
We lived in Manchester.
Money was always tight.
But we were happy.
Just as Herr ****** invaded Poland
My grandad bought our first house.
We always rented until then.
It was a large town home.
The six older boys
All joined the marines
At the outbreak of the war.
They did one act of preparation
That ultimately saved the family.
They took down an old barn for a farmer
And used the beams to shore up the stone cellar
of the house.
When the air raids came later.
We would all huddle under the stair well
Until the all clear sirens sounded.
When the bad raid came
It was the early hours of the night.
Grandad was out on fire watch.
Six of the sons were on ships
In Europe and the far east.
My aunty told me much later.
When the war was long over.
She heard the bomb falling
It screamed as it fell.
Exploding just outside our house
the house caved in and they
were all buried under the rubble
in total darkness.
She said grandma was
breastfeeding the baby my dad.
Grandad was busy the raid was a hard one.
A friend said Frank your house has been hit
It’s bad.
He dropped everything and ran and ran
Breathless he reached the fallen house.
In his heart he thought we were all dead.
It took ten neighbors four hours to reach us.
They pulled the girls out first
Then the baby my dad.
And finally the dimutive figure of my grandma.
She was weeping.
She said Frank we’ve lost everything.
There’s nothing left.
He held her in his big arms
Tears flowing from the eyes of a man
Who had had a hard life.
Who never cried.
He kisses her full on her lips
A single sign of public affection
That was out of his character.
He whispered to grandma.
That odd Mary
Because I just found
Everything I ever wanted or needed.
Dominique Yates Jan 2018
So uhm.. I had a baby
I may be naïve
Newly graduated
Still asking my mom to make my doctor appointments
So I had.. a baby
In fact I was still a baby
I just got chewed up and spit out
Now I’m spitting out kids
Who would’ve guessed
So uhm yeah.. I had a baby
I met love in high school
They called him danger and he had blue eyes
Well danger and I uhm..
We kinda had a baby
It felt like the world was telling me this is it,
Welcome to your life
Well guess what world
I HAD A BABY
I’m now invincible and a mom
I’m an invincible mom
I carried a human for nine months
Now I’m making appointments
Setting up schedules
BREASTFEEDING AND WORKING FULL WEEKS
Nothing is stopping me
Now let me repeat
SO I HAD A BABY
A beautiful baby
A wonderful smart baby
I’m teaching him that
The littlest oops turns into
The biggest blessing In disguise
So I’ll tell you one more time
I HAD A BABY
And my life has never been better
This is more of a slam poetry but written
Sprishya Oct 2014
12 a.m. November 1, 2014
starry night, ticking clock
nothing's changed really!!
the hookers are helping desperate men find love
One ***** at a time
making money
a man jumps off a bridge
**** life right?
Lonely ******* jerking off
while a beautiful young **** makes love
a mother's breastfeeding her baby
who's gonna grow up to end human race
while i sit on my chair
reading Bukowski
"there are times when insanity becomes so real that it isn't insanity anymore"
I guess I am no different!!

(11/01/2014 Kathmandu, Nepal)
The urban legend going round the mummy club
A woman
On a tube
Breastfeeding her baby, 5 months old, under her t shirt.
Not **** out
No feminist flags waving
No brazen cocky smile.
Just a hungry baby and a mother made by nature
And some milk

"Put em away Love", slurs an ugly man halfway down the carriage.
The other passengers are divided.
Some sink deeper into their headphones, under their broadsheets.
The others are ready for revolution, sit up straighter and plan an attack phrase or a protective move.

But this is what she's been waiting for since she so triumphantly became a successful, proud breastfeeder.

With a wet plucking noise she pulls her baby from the ****** where he was so contentedly feeding, where his warm little head was halfway to milky coma dreamland.
And she holds him aloft, her grip is confident and full. No one is afraid she will drop him, but he does not want to be there.
And in the stark light of the carriage, arms and legs chilly and free in the air he begins to flail them about. His voice throws out mews to every window of the carriage, turning into scratchy shouts as his protest gets stronger.
Until the baby, in a blue furry jumper, little bear ears for cute effect, is screaming.
Red faced, and with tonsils and tongue vibrating in the storm of his voice.
Arms and legs swimming frantically, looking for the bank of the river where warm mummy sits.
And over the storm, mummy looks over at the swaying, squinting man and shouts,
"WOULD YOU PREFER THIS?"
In one movement she cradles the yelling blue cub, shushing and quietly speaking to him as only a mother can, offering her ****** to his mouth until his round fuzzy head is bobbing and his mouth quietly busy resuming his meal.
"Or this? " She looks over at him.

The man mutters to himself and looks away. At the next stop he gets off the train, tripping down the step onto the platform.

The mother releases the challenge in one large breath.

She looks up at the two young men sat in front of her.
They are smiling, staring in awe. Choking and speechless one of them starts to applaud her.
Clapping her and shaking his head, his mate joins in.
Just an urban legend...
so
people say that there are things
    objects
    abstracts
    other people
    earth's natural boundaries and bounties
that urge  or maybe converge the mind
into action - though most probably think the act,
they reverie in what they dream as exceptional.

so
here is an ideal,
a prototype esteemed
like that emblazoned scrap of paper
with the birth names and letters
dotdotdot etc ...

so, tell me
are you aspiring
or laying deep
in the molds ?
will it buy you a ring for your trophy ?
will it make you prolific ?

we would not know happiness,
if only for the grand stories
told to us of our entitlement
to enjoy our senses. well,
look at this container,
you were perfectly crafted
to roam
with intention, across all spaces
conquistadoring and
expanding and
'destroying to create'
whatever the **** that means

and never learning not to rear our ugly heads
to the paradise
breastfeeding
us,
or to the processing
keeping us bred
nice and tidy.

so
there is the ambiguous person again,
and is there something wrong with monotony,
does it imply a good in consistence
does it lend translation to the static
     (coming up and out of your roaring mouth;
           he is an angel, i grant it worth.)

so
be inspired by feeling.
that dumpster over yonder is what it
is, as your lobes transmit
and lucidly self actualize ::

i am not here to convince anyone
but myself.
laura Feb 2018
she went all out -
into her private parts
being public
and standing unashamed
in a nation of shamers

i used to find it mindlessly silly
to think that such a thing
defines you much
in a dubious society
all about the body image

used to think that was all a joke
until i saw an old man shove
a mother and a crying baby
breastfeeding out in the wilderness
being a loser’s how you win these days
and in the end we all lose
mobile’s kind of jank
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
only last night, having reach my fill of ms. amber bathing in a ginger ale jacuzzi - chasing a choir boy castrato cat waking me four times i had to utter in frustration (which i later noted): mortality is such an insufficient measure of things... i would be ****** if i didn't make a quick ode to Ovid's ****** poems... to truly appreciate performing oral *** on a woman? i suggest you first appreciate eating oysters... not oysters: no, having performed oral ***, looking at the moon in the quicksilver sheen to see your face all slobbered... an appreciation of eating oysters, is most certainly, a precursor to performing oral *** on a woman... beside:

wenn alles weisheit wurden zu kommen auf Indien -
if all wisdom were to come from India,

needless to say - these ancients still treat
greece as some sort of ongoing "experiment" -
that nothing, absolutely nothing:
is viable -
they might as well call it the still to progess
into a foundation state of affairs -
the west is seen as fickle -
a thought it not so much entrenched
and passed on, as it is made vogue one
generation - disappearing for some time:
before reappearing...

no proverbs ever came from the west:
nothing akin to:
besser ein spatz im ihr hand -
als ein taube auf ihr dach -
i just like how it sounds in german...
the original reads:
lepiej wróbel w ręce - niż gołąb na dachu
(better a sparrow in your hand,
than a dove upon your roof)...

legit. proverb: hold the simpler joys
in your hand, closest to you,
that look up and think that a dove
upon your roof will bring peace to
your household...

as long as everyone under the roof
has simple and "immediate" joys in hand
close to the heart...
peace is not tempted by spotting
a dove on your roof...

here's another one... and i was looking and
i was looking and i was looking
and i thought i couldn't find some,
some sort of alternative...
if only Ted Bundy went down this route...
then again... if he did...
he would have started jerking off
to fine art... the detail of the tongues,
the ***** and the ability to filter
out what is happening outside the erotica...
what?
i will drill this example in...
every, single, time:
Bronzino's venus, cupid, folly and time...

perhaps i am that old,
before free internet *******...
some of us had the ***** and the rose cheeks
to walk into a newsagent and pick
up a pornomag...

well... "*****" - more like...
sculptor's digest... or...
**** subject pages for that lesson
you'd love to take at school
where you could paint a ****...
oh hell: paint all the flowers in the world...
flower: covert: female genitals...
all the flowers in the world...
but not the torso and the mystery
of the bellybutton
nor the cow-sacks of Surabhi...
after all... they started multiplying in number
and you couldn't, after a while,
tell apart what it was about them...
peach on the front,
peach on the back...
and what would a hindu know of
the tetragrammaton?
when H... is a surd in their language?

i tried almost everything...
but upon my final discovery...
hell... it just started making sense...
glory-hole... the dreaded lesbian genre...
once in a brothel i was asked if
i wanted 2 hours with her,
or an hour with her and her friend,
i replied: i still don't know what i'm
going to do with you...
i don't live by the motto:
the world is divided into men
who have slept with two women
and a the men who haven't...

give me two legs of chicken...
i'll know what to do...
a woman can multitask...
after all... if a muslim gets 72 virgins...
a woman is guaranteed her
3 greyhounds... one for each 'ole!
'ere comes the charging bull...

der wesheit auf Indien:
nothing reflexive about it -
just enough to ease you into a mirror
of non-reflection:
i.e. something to destroy the self
with and incorporate -
a billionth part of yourself...
wisdom worthy of meditation -
but not exactly stretching
into a labyrinth of thought -
call it all you like:
clumsy thinking,
spaghetti alleys and cul de sacs,
the labyrinth -
why complicate life, which is already
complicated, by complicating thought?
after all: what is thought?
the first question of the θ-moral?
the th'ought i?

oh don't get me wrong...
that an elephant shouldn't exactly pair
up to a rabbit in the kama sutra:
spot on...

even i became tired of the meat-market...
after a while i just felt like a butcher
looking at cuts of meat...
cam-girls: i don't remember paying...
the genres... god... i probably looked
at 5 in total...
hello exotica... ebony...
glory-hole... ****...
the horrid affair of the extremes -
lars von trier nymphomaniac
confessions type of genres...
hell... i even tried ******...
but still: the meat-market...

well no point looking for alternatives
in the islamic world...
unless you are really ***** for
eyes in the kneeling position
while looking to and from the heavens
of a catholic confessional booth...

some variant of softcore ****:
latex whole body suits...
girls in gimp suits with a zipper
for a genital opening...

but still the meat market...
****? only to laugh at the farts...
but still... the meat-market...
and still the all pervading sense of voyeurism!
that's not enough, it wasn't enough to begin with,
then i'd come across articles
in legit. newspapers (the times)
about how women tend to watch
more violent *******...

for a while i entertained the no-man's land
affair with girls ******* videos...
**** became a little bit weird
when i turned that upside down
and focused on: pregnant women
*******...
and... i just borrowed something from
a 1976 novel by Michael Crichton:
eaters of the dead -
better known as the Wendol in the film
the 13th warrior -
where the diety was a pregnant woman...
i played into that fantasy...
which coincided with the time
i ****** off ******* for 2 hours
and imagined:
well... i guess... ******* are off limits
to men when a woman has a baby...
and she's actually breastfeeding...
i couldn't imagine this fantasy to live
beyond that date of conception
through to having finished breastfeeding
a child... but... for a while...
i gave careful attention...
to what it would be like...
with a lactating woman...

that was the zenith of my exploration...
eh... *** parties? filmed in those shabby
intz intz horrid dance music scenes?
n'ah... i wanted something more...
more... archetypical...
something teasing the forbidden...
but not forbidden as such...
something akin to:
having to convince her to **** while
on her period, in a bath,
wearing a ******: to ease, the, cramps!

ugh... czech house party *** scenes...
or those scenes from prague,
the inverted glory-holes...
what you see are cubicles
of women's legs sticking out...
again:
too much imagination already given...
none of this was akin to
Bronzino's venus, cupid, folly and time...
everything was moving,
i was nothing more than a ******,
always the 5th wheel of the wagon...
somehow, yeah, "somehow" necessary...
even if a woman was ******* 3 at the same time,
there was the fourth... watching...
via the 5th one: filming...

hyper-geometry of a triangle...

what was essentially missing?
accents of eroticism - subtlety -
to have an image in your mind - quiet static -
and to allow your imagination to seep in...
all the other western alternatives
were nothing but meat-markets / slaughterhouses...
none of your imagination could seep in...
not even with the first pornomags
of my teen years...
protruding ******* like the eyes
of judge doom from: who framed roget rabbit...
which always begged the question...
very much akin to the question
posed by Milan Kundera in:
the unbearable lightness of being...
**** with your eyes closed...
or your eyes open?

the sensuality of worms and all those
murky beings: primordial *** -
eyes closed -

      eyes open? the seemingly anti-sensual
inconvenience of mammalian
reproduction - with no pain upon giving
birth: what pleasure upon reaching an ******?
asked the wind of a savannah to its inhabitants.

Islam still wasn't helping -
i could never understand how a woman's eyes
were the most ****** aspect of a woman's body...
perhaps her hands...
well if you have hands like i have...
what you have in your pants isn't exactly
an ego-trip... you're holding a sparrow...
she's holding a bulging ribcage of an albatros!
you can hold a basketball with one hand...
and she is... a knuckle short of your four...
why wouldn't a woman's hands be the most
****** aspect of her body...
after all... a non-discriminatory plateau:
all are the hands of a a geisha...

geisha... islamic eroticism still isn't working...
hair... hair...
a lot of people complain if they have
a fly / a hair in their soup when served
in a restaurant... jokes on me...
i have a beard and the hairs of the beard
are the same consistency of ***** hair...
so i basically have ***** on my face...
ha ha...
why hair? what's so ****** about hair?
what if i tell you that as women age...
almost all of them decide for the pixie girl look -
and what if i told you that...
ifindwomenwithshorthairintheiryouththezenithoferotica?
ag­ain... islam isn't helping...


.a thing of genuine beauty, is always predicated upon transcendent value of inquiry... to transcend the common, daily, human squabbles... it becomes areligous... while daily human squabbles continue, what has been lost, is an item of transcendence, it was never to be a focus of some "parasitical" sycophancy of tourism... there's nothing to be celebrated, and... nothing much to be awed by either.

well, what did the ottoman turks
do to the hagia sophia?
they converted it,
but they weren't philistines
to the point,
   or say, a bunch rabid mongols
from the 13th century
in Bagdad...
                      like:
                     and why didn't
the nazis not destroy certain valuable
cultural cruxes?
   that picture of st. paul's cathedral
during the blitz...
  yes, the english might think
it was a symbol of defiance...
but i'm pretty ******* sure
that if one luftwaffe bomber dropped
something on st. paul's,
they'd return home and be
shot by a firing squad...
            they might have been
nazis... but they weren't philistines...
even the ottomans...
süleymaniye was so jealous
of the byzantine building
that he had to commission the construction
of a building to match-up
to the hagia sophia in some
way...
           again:
                  prank call buddha...
tell him they're also
tearing down idols in northern europe
with their phallus cult
           of the large wooden
***** carved from a tree.
what's that?        you yell'ah?
i mean: in the heyday
   of scandinavian black metal...
varg vikernes... 'nuf' said.

_________
a
Sheila J Sadr May 2015
1.
Forget the things that broke
you. The thousand times oceans
fragmented your sentiment
rock. Become grains of sand
and shards of turquoise glass
so no one can grab hold of your
entire landscape again.

2.
Remember all the good
you learned to ignore in
elementary school. Study.
Read. Decide. Become a
classroom desk. Seated.
Sentient. Cold.

3.
Remove your loud mouthed
vagabond expectations like
a malignant cancer. Being
a romantic drains the
muscles pulling your smile
and the possibility of Great
will only leave you trembling
in a pseudo-fabric hospital
gown that leaves your ***
hanging out.

4.
Do things you do not want
to do. Like selling your paint
supplies to pay for student loans.
Waking up early for a morning
jog. Planning your life out perfectly
and successfully. Pulling an all-
nighter to finish a research paper
on breastfeeding. Doing someone
else’s dishes. Becoming
someone else.
April 21, 2015 // 1:05 PM
Matt Mar 2016
I move kind of slow
And I'm not sure why
I do not know

Perhaps it is
The repetitiveness
Of this absurd show

Nowhere to rush
Nowhere to go

There was
A woman
At the gym

So strong and ****
Who deadlifts
Almost as twice as me

Kind and compassionate
What could be wrong
About breastfeeding
From her

All day long
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
would breastfeeding me with the toddler save our *** life? i always wanted to try it out, get breastfed and do that old ***** **** after maturity kicks in; i mean, girl, half of your body disappeared after becoming a mother, it's like that mermaid debate: top part human bottom part fish / top part fish bottom part human - you're still into oral but i want to reclaim your chest; so that's what you meant by burning your bra?*

when reading becomes tedious
and you know it,
and you write out the replica
of the tedium, and you're wondering
'why not the best bits spotted?'
hilarious, you're regurgitating
the sudden tedium of reading
with the missing tedium of writing
it, and become almost encircled
by the hope of someone's eyes
seeing your tongue lick a tiger's canine
and a placenta.
Stu Harley Jun 2016
a
litter of
soft fluffy white kittens
with
ferris wheel eyes
leave
their
mother's
breastfeeding
after awhile
chase after
scattered ***** of yarn
red blue green and some gold
Adam and Eve lived here
before she went vegan
and chomped the wrong apple
dropping them both into deep schtuck
with a difficult learning curve
before they got up to speed
as our progenitors
and began begetting.

With only two to start with
there had to have been a lot of ******
with begats here and begats there
and still, the gene pool stayed clean
without fits and starts
so there must have been a Divine Profiler
in the sky keeping the books straight
with our future at stake.

But there is a question?
In the beginning there were only two
so was Adam the midwife
and if so
where did he learn the skills
the whole midwifery bit
the gentle initial slap
to get the first wail ever on this earth

Interesting theological
and philosophical thoughts
not even thinking
about baby clothes
and the like
I suppose breastfeeding
was a must before Baby Formula

Deep thoughts for Easter
My computer is having a hard time getting on line today, That is why there were two Number One Paradise on line. The other one is deleted now so if you liked it the Like has gone with the poem
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
While not everybody naps
Simply everybody craps.
If you don’t you’re a goner
I swear by my honor
There’s no substitute for it
So just get used to it.
It’s like boogers, you see
It’s not talked of openly.

The public has an allergy
Of what can be said honestly.
You can admit to burping
But must do so excusing
As if you had taken a dump
Instead of expelling a lump
Of non-poisonous gas.
Society is a ***.

And while we’re at it
We live in a world here
Where ******* are reshaped
And formed by a brassiere
But no crotch bulges for men
Especially not big shaped ones.
As I have already implied
Society is a mean son-of-a-gun.

Breastfeeding an infant is
Seen as some kind of ****
But under-aged girls in bikinis?
That is why men were born.
They were put on earth to see
And love nature and its gifts.
But women in public should
Not show uncovered ****.

Just remember this and
You will do very well.
Being natural is for sure
The best way to go to hell.
You must always look to
The bluenosed of society
To shape your fine sense
Of decency and propriety.

A natural person, as God made
Is surely just the Devil’s work.
Because the Devil is more
Important that that God ****.
God and Santa make lists
And punish us by and bye
But Satan does it right now
And then spits in your eye.

So, be the proper citizen
And don’t do what is natural.
Following on nature’s bent
Will do you no good at all.
Even though the Bible won’t
Agree to this simple plan
Just look around you to learn
What is in society’s plan.
Jane EB Smith Jul 2015
He said you never laugh anymore since you had the baby.
I said I’m tired, I smell like soured milk, I’m lonely, I miss my friends.
He said if you don’t like your life, then change it.
I said, how, standing there with his second baby in my arms.

He said it’s been six months and you’re still fat.
Lose the baby weight or I’ll leave you.
I said I’ll lose the weight, don’t go.

The doctor said a woman of a certain
age loses the structural foundation of her *******.
Breastfeeding does that, too.
I was thirty-five.
I had fed three babies and was proud.
He watched and was disappointed.

I worked hard and was strong.
I sneered at women with fat ankles and scaly feet,
bad skin and protruding bellies.
I said, they should work harder to keep themselves up.
It’s their fault. They are lazy. They eat too much.

He said, I’m tired of living with sick and crazy people
and ran away from home.
I was tired, too, but my sons were crazy and sick,
and I couldn’t run away.

He sold my home
took my work,  and my garden, and
left me responsible for the ones he ran away from.

He took the future I thought I was building--
grandmother and granddaddy,
holidays,
family dinners,
companionship,
quiet nights.

I am become the women I sneered at,
round, lazy, and disrespected.
I say I know now that they were young once,
that their skin was clear, and their bellies flat.
I say, don’t think that how I look is who I am.
I am smart. I am kind.
I understand. I lead.
I listen. I laugh.
I write. I read. I explain.
I learn. I teach.
I know.

Who I am is not how I look.
A first draft.
The sea is tattooed with sunrise and sunsets
Boundless shadows frost the horizon
Silent church floors and breastfeeding mothers
Hickory hilltops with flecks of honey
Larry Potter Dec 2016
My mommy is
busy babysitting
and breastfeeding
another baby's
Daddy.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
ona mruga oczyma jak sra, czy jak szczy?
  (concerning one of my cats in the garden
                  easing the ****, or bladder,
whichever - imagine saying it's a baby
when it's should be said: retract that idea of
nappies and breastfeeding, watch Prometheus -
girl quick on the mark, alien tadpoles ahoy!);
you'd love to see the rainbow of curses
i littered the ground around me -
      all because i overslept my doctor's appointment
over the phone -
                 hell knows no womanly furies,
it's kitted out with them as standard -
                 mind you, it's about time to encounter
if not simply invite Dr. Zhivago to cool
things down -
                          such trivialities as only a woman
might know to be the basis of infuriated assault -
and about a thumb's length of whiskey
on an empty stomach, and three coffees...
              ****'s buzzing...
after vacuuming the house i make my oaths:
yes, the 21st century Homeric heroes to mind,
our modern heroes: heroism equivalent of
paying the gas bill -
                               entertainment value? zilch:
unless you're bound to be watching Odysseus
take the longest yawn spanning into the 22nd century.
no... i didn't have a rich father, but
they managed ******* into my mouth anyway,
no wonder all i get to say is: it stinks -
           alter?
                   *nasrali mi do gęby,
nic dziwnego że mówie: smród!
                                                    smród!­
nie jeden balas w szambie tym samym
    demokratycznym słowem powie: smród
                     i rozkaz męczybuły nad głos!
a tu jakiś Kossak pięścią... sto razy wdepte
ci dekalog: dwór! dwór! nie pałacyk...
                        buda! buda, psie marnego skinienia
                            w aport! hujnia i homonto!
              oraj pole... jebana mać oraj złote włókno
            by przestał głód pytać o gram
                                                        sytu­! oraj!

             beauty of out a loss in temperament,
no cocktail party for miles...
                                 if you look closely you can
spot a Belgian field of poppies;
god the English malaise of attempting to curse...
           the easiest curse in English is identified
as courtesy - sorry means as much as *******.

— The End —