"chomping" poems - Hello Poetry

i'm kissing lip-smacking chomping away at a memory of you *i'm kissing lip-smacking chomping away at a memory of you* **i'm kissing lip-smacking chomping away at a memory of you**

0

Jul 6, 2014

Jul 6, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC

xok

Mouth

i'm kissing lip-smacking chomping away at a memory of you *i'm kissing lip-smacking chomping away at a memory of you* **i'm kissing lip-smacking chomping away at a memory of you**

12

Tropical blue Cool night breeze Ocean tides and Red Lobster life Tropical blood Swimming with crocodiles Chomping on left over Cubans Tropical view Wind chime serenade Second hand smoke grenade Tropical blue blood Ocean wave recedes Water and volcanic sludge Tropical blue blood view Nightlife in all its brilliance Late night moonlit romance

0

Jun 11, 2011

Jun 11, 2011 at 8:46 PM UTC

TonguesOfOthers

tropical

Tropical blue Cool night breeze Ocean tides and Red Lobster life Tropical blood Swimming with crocodiles Chomping on left over Cubans Tropical view Wind chime serenade Second hand smoke grenade Tropical blue blood Ocean wave recedes Water and volcanic sludge Tropical blue blood view Nightlife in all its brilliance Late night moonlit romance

15

Giant blue alligator in the night sky, white teeth gleaming like sharp moons. Chomp, chomp, chomping everything in its path. Big teeth grab onto the things we hold close: Love, laughter, life. All gone. Oh, alligator, haven't you eaten Enough?

0

Nov 18, 2014

Nov 18, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC

MyPurplePen

The Blue Alligator

Giant blue alligator in the night sky, white teeth gleaming like sharp moons. Chomp, chomp, chomping everything in its path. Big teeth grab onto the things we hold close: Love, laughter, life. All gone. Oh, alligator, haven't you eaten Enough?

14

meow meow meow the cat is calling me to feed him some fish kedgeree meow meow meow he's clawing at my heels he's impatient for his meal meow meow meow he's chomping into his fish and he is now licking out his dish meow meow meow he's got a grin on his dial the fish kedgeree has made him smile

0

Jun 26, 2013

Jun 26, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Meow, Meow, Meow

meow meow meow the cat is calling me to feed him some fish kedgeree meow meow meow he's clawing at my heels he's impatient for his meal meow meow meow he's chomping into his fish and he is now licking out his dish meow meow meow he's got a grin on his dial the fish kedgeree has made him smile

20

I like to bite, not overly hard, just enough to make one wince, perhaps, a sharp intake of breath, showing that my bite is hard enough. I so desire feeling soft flesh, tensing between my teeth, especially when rounded and firm. Neck first, working downwards, nipping into the shoulder, chewing that succulent muscle, with tight, tentative nibbles. I am even bitten in return, my pressure gauged by intent, taken from the one biting me. If teeth come hard and sharp, trust me, then so do mine, if they are loving and gentle, once again, so are mine. I work across the ******* delighting in the ***** ******* chewing drawing responses, tongue sliding over her stomach, lower, lower, down to the hips. Biting very hard into thighs, making her cry, back arching, bringing writhing gasps to die for, reaching her vulnerable centre, soothing with deep, heavy licks, tantalisingly teasing, so sweet. Suddenly, flipping her over, rough as you like, choice slaps, smarting on her plump bottom, before biting, biting, biting, taking in every curvaceous part, devouring, chomping, so yummy! I part her legs, diving between, my tongue lapping in a frenzy, deep, deep, tasting the juice, before rising, pinning shoulders, entering, gliding, slowly, surely, giving long, languorous strokes. Hips grinding, hard and deep, circling round and round, momentum building, building, firm hands gripping her hips, flesh slapping against flesh, as we match our rhythm, lunging, pounding, thrusting, exploding, on and on, more and more, until, we are spent, trembling, slowing, easing. A final twisting whip, circling the very edge, bringing smiles, a playful giggle, it tickles, so nice, I lean forward, so good, nuzzling, caressing, ah, all because, I like to bite. ©Paul M Chafer

0

Nov 13, 2014

Nov 13, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC

paul-chafer

Odaxelagnia

I like to bite, not overly hard, just enough to make one wince, perhaps, a sharp intake of breath, showing that my bite is hard enough. I so desire feeling soft flesh, tensing between my teeth, especially when rounded and firm. Neck first, working downwards, nipping into the shoulder, chewing that succulent muscle, with tight, tentative nibbles. I am even bitten in return, my pressure gauged by intent, taken from the one biting me. If teeth come hard and sharp, trust me, then so do mine, if they are loving and gentle, once again, so are mine. I work across the ******* delighting in the ***** ******* chewing drawing responses, tongue sliding over her stomach, lower, lower, down to the hips. Biting very hard into thighs, making her cry, back arching, bringing writhing gasps to die for, reaching her vulnerable centre, soothing with deep, heavy licks, tantalisingly teasing, so sweet. Suddenly, flipping her over, rough as you like, choice slaps, smarting on her plump bottom, before biting, biting, biting, taking in every curvaceous part, devouring, chomping, so yummy! I part her legs, diving between, my tongue lapping in a frenzy, deep, deep, tasting the juice, before rising, pinning shoulders, entering, gliding, slowly, surely, giving long, languorous strokes. Hips grinding, hard and deep, circling round and round, momentum building, building, firm hands gripping her hips, flesh slapping against flesh, as we match our rhythm, lunging, pounding, thrusting, exploding, on and on, more and more, until, we are spent, trembling, slowing, easing. A final twisting whip, circling the very edge, bringing smiles, a playful giggle, it tickles, so nice, I lean forward, so good, nuzzling, caressing, ah, all because, I like to bite. ©Paul M Chafer

63

It's the Grim Reaper It's the Boogie Man It's the wolf in the closet It's the monster under the bed It's the phantom that's chasing you in your dreams It's the madman who dances delightfully in your brain matter It's the poison in your coffee Paralyzing Petrifying and penetrating A flesh eating Bone chomping Soul ******* Grave robbing Ghoul Right within the halls of your head Grotesque and greedy, it is Gloom everywhere An anxiety production line Breeding anguish Bleeding you out Windpipe choking Werewolf watching Witches brewing It's dreadful and dooming It's horror at every corner It's a newspaper dripping in disaster It's a future forecasting fatalities Your obituary in every new edition BUT IT'S NOT REAL

0

Jan 10, 2014

Jan 10, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC

dorothy-anderson

Fear (False Evidence Appearing Real)

It's the Grim Reaper It's the Boogie Man It's the wolf in the closet It's the monster under the bed It's the phantom that's chasing you in your dreams It's the madman who dances delightfully in your brain matter It's the poison in your coffee Paralyzing Petrifying and penetrating A flesh eating Bone chomping Soul ******* Grave robbing Ghoul Right within the halls of your head Grotesque and greedy, it is Gloom everywhere An anxiety production line Breeding anguish Bleeding you out Windpipe choking Werewolf watching Witches brewing It's dreadful and dooming It's horror at every corner It's a newspaper dripping in disaster It's a future forecasting fatalities Your obituary in every new edition BUT IT'S NOT REAL

28

they want me to be serious, to take it seriously. To look at sunrises calmly and seize coals and watch over red-blooded, man-fueled wars about bravado, integrity, and land. To look at money, a simple representation of labor, and see what it drives other to do, to do for me. to crush cigarettes and testicles under my boots, to crawl through mud and barbed wire, smiling with grit in my grimace salt rolling, sweaty brows twisted locks of dark hair tobacco-brown spit, ground and filthy, caked in mud teeth bared like an animal white eyeteeth crunching **Scorching earth where my feet touch down. A cigarette put out on a tongue. No more talking.** They want me to see and that, in the dark of the night, in the light of the day, when the sun rises and sets, there is pain, always, elsewhere and everywhere. So I will not tarry or joke or be frivolous with the battered souls of others and to think, to think about applying anything I know, to run along with the vigorous social constructs they ask me to dissect and then revolutionize, because I am young, and I will sprint faster, against accusations, and only briefly. They want me to look at the world like a runner looks at the red track, with their toes and sinews coiled as hard as steel, a pinnacle of human at the height of athleticism and possess the ruthlessness of a rabid dog drool rushed into foam and mad from dehydrating, my brain swelling with my hormone driven red, hazy, athletic rage, gunning my ambition for some organization. No. I will fight, yes, but I will not fight for a name on a card, shield, or building. I will fight for the sake of fighting because I am contentious and I am wrong. I side against hero and villain, because I am the ambiguity, that languishes, resides in no-man's land, antagonizing both. Being disliked in purgatory is sometimes more easy than chomping at the bit, for blood and the power of cracking a black bull whip, so I can avoid this terrible avarice and corrupting beauty that comes with working hard, especially for the greatness that I did not ask to be ****** upon me, while I wished to remain enigmatic.

0

Jun 4, 2013

Jun 4, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC

glass-can

wry and bitter smile (stoic though)

they want me to be serious, to take it seriously. To look at sunrises calmly and seize coals and watch over red-blooded, man-fueled wars about bravado, integrity, and land. To look at money, a simple representation of labor, and see what it drives other to do, to do for me. to crush cigarettes and testicles under my boots, to crawl through mud and barbed wire, smiling with grit in my grimace salt rolling, sweaty brows twisted locks of dark hair tobacco-brown spit, ground and filthy, caked in mud teeth bared like an animal white eyeteeth crunching **Scorching earth where my feet touch down. A cigarette put out on a tongue. No more talking.** They want me to see and that, in the dark of the night, in the light of the day, when the sun rises and sets, there is pain, always, elsewhere and everywhere. So I will not tarry or joke or be frivolous with the battered souls of others and to think, to think about applying anything I know, to run along with the vigorous social constructs they ask me to dissect and then revolutionize, because I am young, and I will sprint faster, against accusations, and only briefly. They want me to look at the world like a runner looks at the red track, with their toes and sinews coiled as hard as steel, a pinnacle of human at the height of athleticism and possess the ruthlessness of a rabid dog drool rushed into foam and mad from dehydrating, my brain swelling with my hormone driven red, hazy, athletic rage, gunning my ambition for some organization. No. I will fight, yes, but I will not fight for a name on a card, shield, or building. I will fight for the sake of fighting because I am contentious and I am wrong. I side against hero and villain, because I am the ambiguity, that languishes, resides in no-man's land, antagonizing both. Being disliked in purgatory is sometimes more easy than chomping at the bit, for blood and the power of cracking a black bull whip, so I can avoid this terrible avarice and corrupting beauty that comes with working hard, especially for the greatness that I did not ask to be ****** upon me, while I wished to remain enigmatic.

30

Creeping crawling Waiting stalking... You sit there in wait As if a planned date Of which, I do not know Why are you staring little crow? You sit and watch beating hearts 'Til the harvest starts I almost tune out the evil laugh That you bellow from deep within your wrath And almost forget where you reside That is, within me, deep inside Your jar of souls collected slowly You take your time being unholy You go into hibernation away from the watchful cavists You do not mind though, for winters calm brings great Spring harvests You feast and feast devouring bit by bit You take piece by piece encouraging me to submit Fighting the pain, Fighting in vein... Tearing me down, nonstop As if I your crop Little crow caws in joyous evil song Release me from your grasp, I beg all night long You come and go And reap what I sow Taking my strength and will to fight Chomping down into flesh throughout the night Released once more, you hide away again I almost forget, but you have written it in permanent pen You wrote "Never forget, sweet child, I am you keeper. Sincerely, The Soul Reaper."

0

Jan 10, 2019

Jan 10, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC

Dani32316

My keeper

Creeping crawling Waiting stalking... You sit there in wait As if a planned date Of which, I do not know Why are you staring little crow? You sit and watch beating hearts 'Til the harvest starts I almost tune out the evil laugh That you bellow from deep within your wrath And almost forget where you reside That is, within me, deep inside Your jar of souls collected slowly You take your time being unholy You go into hibernation away from the watchful cavists You do not mind though, for winters calm brings great Spring harvests You feast and feast devouring bit by bit You take piece by piece encouraging me to submit Fighting the pain, Fighting in vein... Tearing me down, nonstop As if I your crop Little crow caws in joyous evil song Release me from your grasp, I beg all night long You come and go And reap what I sow Taking my strength and will to fight Chomping down into flesh throughout the night Released once more, you hide away again I almost forget, but you have written it in permanent pen You wrote "Never forget, sweet child, I am you keeper. Sincerely, The Soul Reaper."

33

Flipped through my comic And there I eyed Free ride on the batman slide Got so pumped I nearly cried Got so pumped I nearly cried Took my ticket Drove to the fair Let the wind breeze through my hair Kind of cold but I don't care Kind of cold but I don't care There it was Past flume log Was it worth this sudden slog? Chomping on my chili dog Chomping on my chili dog Gave the ticket Crawled on in Beaming with a goofy grin Taking this ride for a spin Taking this ride for a spin I slid down Then I barfed! Losing all my debonair Chili splattered everywhere Chili splattered everywhere Off to ride Carousel Handyman would come with broom Walking past the scary flume Walking past the scary flume

0

Jan 24, 2016

Jan 24, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC

essen

Free Ride on the Batman Slide

Flipped through my comic And there I eyed Free ride on the batman slide Got so pumped I nearly cried Got so pumped I nearly cried Took my ticket Drove to the fair Let the wind breeze through my hair Kind of cold but I don't care Kind of cold but I don't care There it was Past flume log Was it worth this sudden slog? Chomping on my chili dog Chomping on my chili dog Gave the ticket Crawled on in Beaming with a goofy grin Taking this ride for a spin Taking this ride for a spin I slid down Then I barfed! Losing all my debonair Chili splattered everywhere Chili splattered everywhere Off to ride Carousel Handyman would come with broom Walking past the scary flume Walking past the scary flume

30

Acrid stenches of contrived action stain his sloppy, uneven speeches gallantry is unnerving, obnoxious to me, even in the grandest favors. I sniff with all my offended senses. To a bloodhound nose, it's cloying. He smells like he's trying too hard, trying too hard smells sour, biting. I prefer challenges from a cunning, a silver-tongued fox. Let me chase. Subtle while retaining the ability to remain brazen, aye, there's the rub. Chomping at the bit, the overeager and easily pleased are not my kind, the authentic and untamed always give me more rise than an easy bait.

0

May 19, 2013

May 19, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC

glass-can

chasing

Acrid stenches of contrived action stain his sloppy, uneven speeches gallantry is unnerving, obnoxious to me, even in the grandest favors. I sniff with all my offended senses. To a bloodhound nose, it's cloying. He smells like he's trying too hard, trying too hard smells sour, biting. I prefer challenges from a cunning, a silver-tongued fox. Let me chase. Subtle while retaining the ability to remain brazen, aye, there's the rub. Chomping at the bit, the overeager and easily pleased are not my kind, the authentic and untamed always give me more rise than an easy bait.

16

At the Berkeley protests, the streets smiled with sledge-hammer teeth chomping away for peace. Windows were smashed, trash became the air in flags of ash, police in riot costumes picketed the peace like a fence teaching the pretty protesters a thing or two about place but the tear gas said it all first: the system is broken.

0

May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC

hejunwei

(pat)riot pt. 1

At the Berkeley protests, the streets smiled with sledge-hammer teeth chomping away for peace. Windows were smashed, trash became the air in flags of ash, police in riot costumes picketed the peace like a fence teaching the pretty protesters a thing or two about place but the tear gas said it all first: the system is broken.

14

“See herself..?” ‘Who..?’ “Herself.. there” ‘An’ about her?’ “..Cheating on himself..” ‘Sure she.. that one..’ “Fur coat.. no knickers..” They scuttle out daily wagging their vicious tales, Through dullness that dampens their every afternoon, Ignored by their own; an’ threadbare reflection, ******* each spun yarn an’ sheet out to dry, Stained with every listless memory an’ lonely evening, Gossip-hungry, they covet the community swill, Chomping through the random, unopposed untruths, ‘..husband slayer, heartless siren.. tis’ a mortal sin..’ They make no bones of any acquaintance of herself, With monstrous-eyed chronicles of salacious green, Such falsehood is kind to the envious an’ bias ears, Which tolerate any brazen line to a choir of lewd hymns, They harmonise each lustful lie; the prime accuser, Conducts a murky symphony of ***** laundry aired live, The jury silent, mocking whispered an’ ears into the wind, As the accused sullen-faced an’ solitary suddenly appears. Herself stands idly ignorant to the satirical sniggers, The trial by jealously ends, they turn two faces an’ leave, No fur, no knickers, no time to wish away the pain, Curtains drawn, truth quartered - the washing hung

0

Dec 30, 2013

Dec 30, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC

cm-rice

To the Gallows with your Washing (For Mrs. Cullen and Mrs. McBride)

“See herself..?” ‘Who..?’ “Herself.. there” ‘An’ about her?’ “..Cheating on himself..” ‘Sure she.. that one..’ “Fur coat.. no knickers..” They scuttle out daily wagging their vicious tales, Through dullness that dampens their every afternoon, Ignored by their own; an’ threadbare reflection, ******* each spun yarn an’ sheet out to dry, Stained with every listless memory an’ lonely evening, Gossip-hungry, they covet the community swill, Chomping through the random, unopposed untruths, ‘..husband slayer, heartless siren.. tis’ a mortal sin..’ They make no bones of any acquaintance of herself, With monstrous-eyed chronicles of salacious green, Such falsehood is kind to the envious an’ bias ears, Which tolerate any brazen line to a choir of lewd hymns, They harmonise each lustful lie; the prime accuser, Conducts a murky symphony of ***** laundry aired live, The jury silent, mocking whispered an’ ears into the wind, As the accused sullen-faced an’ solitary suddenly appears. Herself stands idly ignorant to the satirical sniggers, The trial by jealously ends, they turn two faces an’ leave, No fur, no knickers, no time to wish away the pain, Curtains drawn, truth quartered - the washing hung

27

In a word? Pretentious. Your presence stains the air. Petty criticisms, as if anybody cared. You think yourself an icon, and darling, ain't that darling. To be completely honest though? I couldn't give a farthing. Your lack of self-awareness paints your harlequin visage. Your over-swollen ego? Nothing more than a mirage. Your tacky two-cent romance leaves one little more than bored. Precisely why is it that you think you should be adored? Furthermore, diplomacy seems alien to you. Assaulting inquisitions, implications, most untrue. It does turn rather humorous, though, given your dull wit, As oftentimes, you miss the point, for chomping at the bit. Your eagerness to take offense makes conversation dreadful, And seems to strip away any desire to be respectful. Alas, I too indulge in pettiness from time to time, So please, enjoy my grievance set facetiously to rhyme.

0

Feb 20, 2018

Feb 20, 2018 at 11:20 PM UTC

ACanOfSunDrop

Shall I describe thee, madam?

In a word? Pretentious. Your presence stains the air. Petty criticisms, as if anybody cared. You think yourself an icon, and darling, ain't that darling. To be completely honest though? I couldn't give a farthing. Your lack of self-awareness paints your harlequin visage. Your over-swollen ego? Nothing more than a mirage. Your tacky two-cent romance leaves one little more than bored. Precisely why is it that you think you should be adored? Furthermore, diplomacy seems alien to you. Assaulting inquisitions, implications, most untrue. It does turn rather humorous, though, given your dull wit, As oftentimes, you miss the point, for chomping at the bit. Your eagerness to take offense makes conversation dreadful, And seems to strip away any desire to be respectful. Alas, I too indulge in pettiness from time to time, So please, enjoy my grievance set facetiously to rhyme.

16

My son's a cereal killer. I thought I raised him well. He started chewing slowly Now he's chomping like hell. Froot Loops' his favorite victim. Frooty Pebbles' a sucker too. He takes them for a milky swim Then kills them with a crunchy chew. If his fave two are in hiding And he's hungry for a **** Tony The Tiger gets a grinding And Honey Graham takes a spill. His kills are wet and chilling. His appetite's mean and insane Cereality is his calling; Cereal killing is his game.. ~ P

0

Jul 21, 2013

Jul 21, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC

james-g-paul-sr-aka-pablo

My Son's A Cereal Killer...

My son's a cereal killer. I thought I raised him well. He started chewing slowly Now he's chomping like hell. Froot Loops' his favorite victim. Frooty Pebbles' a sucker too. He takes them for a milky swim Then kills them with a crunchy chew. If his fave two are in hiding And he's hungry for a **** Tony The Tiger gets a grinding And Honey Graham takes a spill. His kills are wet and chilling. His appetite's mean and insane Cereality is his calling; Cereal killing is his game.. ~ P

17

"slurp" "SluRP" "SLURP" Heard from tongue and mouth Little teeth, Lick, Slurp, Chomp, Like a *baby ****** on wood, You look at me with a cheeky smile What was once clean now a sticky mess Licking a lolly, Keeping you entertained Looking as if after all this licking, chomping "Slurp" "Slurp" "Slurp" That its looking like when you first began, Then as if a moment past, the lolly That was whole now but a stick, Tongue, teeth, mouth Chopped away till all was gone Just a smile though sticky lips, "Slurp" "Slurp" "Slurp" Was heard, now all quiet as just a grin And a stick passed to daddy, and the words "Daddy can I please have another one "

0

Dec 2, 2014

Dec 2, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC

poetic-t

Slurp, Slurp, Slurp

"slurp" "SluRP" "SLURP" Heard from tongue and mouth Little teeth, Lick, Slurp, Chomp, Like a *baby ****** on wood, You look at me with a cheeky smile What was once clean now a sticky mess Licking a lolly, Keeping you entertained Looking as if after all this licking, chomping "Slurp" "Slurp" "Slurp" That its looking like when you first began, Then as if a moment past, the lolly That was whole now but a stick, Tongue, teeth, mouth Chopped away till all was gone Just a smile though sticky lips, "Slurp" "Slurp" "Slurp" Was heard, now all quiet as just a grin And a stick passed to daddy, and the words "Daddy can I please have another one "

29

smelly cherries taste quite subtle Like stale dr. pepper With no fizz One Thursday In a dream Stinky cherries spoke to me Do not eat us! Or we eat humans Said they But I like smelly cherries And I continued to eat those Plump Subtle Crimson Soft Juicy Cherries Until next Wednesday They squeezed past my door Walking foot by foot With big mandibles For chomping humans And I scream Don’t eat me! But they speak Cherrinese So i cry to myself Goodbye As the smelly cherries Eat me alive

0

Sep 30, 2018

Sep 30, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC

jnjesuit

Those Cherries One Day

smelly cherries taste quite subtle Like stale dr. pepper With no fizz One Thursday In a dream Stinky cherries spoke to me Do not eat us! Or we eat humans Said they But I like smelly cherries And I continued to eat those Plump Subtle Crimson Soft Juicy Cherries Until next Wednesday They squeezed past my door Walking foot by foot With big mandibles For chomping humans And I scream Don’t eat me! But they speak Cherrinese So i cry to myself Goodbye As the smelly cherries Eat me alive

31

How do I love thee?........first four words of one of your favorite sonnets. I could never stop counting the ways or comparing thee to a summer's day. Te amo bebe....Je t'aime nebe.....Ich liebe dich, baby.....all languages = same. No duress here.....I choose to live life on a maybe you will or wont love again. No duress.......I choose to love you and that would be nobody's business. Goto Nordies, Sharper Images, etc.......any of your favorites to shop.....my treat. Time for annual meeting Mr. Frustration......Pls accept what I'm happy to buy. Any other lady would be chomping at the bit, thrilled, I'm using no limits cards. Big surprise for you my Pet.........hope you like and there's no need to ship it. It's a little something I bought just for me and you with thoughts of our future. Bought matching wheel chairs so we can ride off into the sunset to Gray land. Ms. Betty Ponder, I adore and give you my heart.....I love you and always will. If you choose to cast me aside.....history will most definitely repeat.......I go alone to same place I went the last time you walked out of my life..... I'll take our happy memories......scent of your body and your perfume..... sound of your laughter and **** voice forever recorded....visions of eyes... gazing up at me in deep passion.......and abundant qualities that make you my only unforgettable shorty and gorgeous Ms. Betty Ponder.

0

Dec 9, 2013

Dec 9, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC

alexander-swain

Bought something just for us

How do I love thee?........first four words of one of your favorite sonnets. I could never stop counting the ways or comparing thee to a summer's day. Te amo bebe....Je t'aime nebe.....Ich liebe dich, baby.....all languages = same. No duress here.....I choose to live life on a maybe you will or wont love again. No duress.......I choose to love you and that would be nobody's business. Goto Nordies, Sharper Images, etc.......any of your favorites to shop.....my treat. Time for annual meeting Mr. Frustration......Pls accept what I'm happy to buy. Any other lady would be chomping at the bit, thrilled, I'm using no limits cards. Big surprise for you my Pet.........hope you like and there's no need to ship it. It's a little something I bought just for me and you with thoughts of our future. Bought matching wheel chairs so we can ride off into the sunset to Gray land. Ms. Betty Ponder, I adore and give you my heart.....I love you and always will. If you choose to cast me aside.....history will most definitely repeat.......I go alone to same place I went the last time you walked out of my life..... I'll take our happy memories......scent of your body and your perfume..... sound of your laughter and **** voice forever recorded....visions of eyes... gazing up at me in deep passion.......and abundant qualities that make you my only unforgettable shorty and gorgeous Ms. Betty Ponder.

18

He was chomping on a dog a chili dog to be exact when he heard a crunch and felt a pain that seemed unusual to his lunch So with all the grace that he could muster he spit out all the dog and the chili and the mustard then smiled a toothless grin when in the chili he could see a bicuspid mixed therein He had been waiting for this day to the point where almost all his nerves had frayed and more than all his hair had grayed But now he knew for certain there would be no final curtain for at least another act because his bicuspid had given way to his third set of teeth

0

Feb 5, 2014

Feb 5, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC

jai-rho

Third Set of Teeth

He was chomping on a dog a chili dog to be exact when he heard a crunch and felt a pain that seemed unusual to his lunch So with all the grace that he could muster he spit out all the dog and the chili and the mustard then smiled a toothless grin when in the chili he could see a bicuspid mixed therein He had been waiting for this day to the point where almost all his nerves had frayed and more than all his hair had grayed But now he knew for certain there would be no final curtain for at least another act because his bicuspid had given way to his third set of teeth

22

My my my how time has flown fully grown cities living organisms concrete equivalent to soil buildings burst through the layers windows errupt beautiful slower wind in grass blades everglades marshes of alligators chomping at nobody publicity stunts running for president he shall be doing so grand a guy sweet, heat low and usually a bit timid nevertheless combustable.

0

Jul 2, 2012

Jul 2, 2012 at 1:06 AM UTC

matalie-niller

Octave or Two

My my my how time has flown fully grown cities living organisms concrete equivalent to soil buildings burst through the layers windows errupt beautiful slower wind in grass blades everglades marshes of alligators chomping at nobody publicity stunts running for president he shall be doing so grand a guy sweet, heat low and usually a bit timid nevertheless combustable.

24

you reeled me in from the aegean's slow murmur, my gills covered in algae, my jaw chomping rhythmically under the hollow tree of my mouth. didn't anyone ever teach you that fishing for nymphs is more painful than comb jellies, slower than marlins and as safe as the glowing earring of an anglerfish mother? on the deck of your vessel you cradled my skeleton gently, fed me crispy hard coral and begged me not to eat you in the night, when mars made his way toward the fiery backdrop of our natal charts. how intrigued i was to find that under your beard hid a chain mail of scales, the map of your palms was drafted in plasma, and your iris is not pigment, but a distant reflection of geysers snapping like scorpions out of the ocean floor. you spent the nights dancing to the howl of sirens like no man i'd ever seen, and somewhere between our fingers, where you passed me the whiskey, i threw my arms up and remembered how to move. you spent the days following the wind's hips, you didn't care if she changed her mind, you said. you are like the belly of a sea star. slowly in the twilight i uncoiled my fear of wandering, i threw the pit into the open ocean and the rope followed, slithering down. now all we have is constellations. all we have is moon fragments and bird islands and my hair flying like a compass, like a shining battle flag. i can't smell land for miles and i am not afraid.

0

Apr 29, 2013

Apr 29, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC

dre-g

ode to wildish nature

you reeled me in from the aegean's slow murmur, my gills covered in algae, my jaw chomping rhythmically under the hollow tree of my mouth. didn't anyone ever teach you that fishing for nymphs is more painful than comb jellies, slower than marlins and as safe as the glowing earring of an anglerfish mother? on the deck of your vessel you cradled my skeleton gently, fed me crispy hard coral and begged me not to eat you in the night, when mars made his way toward the fiery backdrop of our natal charts. how intrigued i was to find that under your beard hid a chain mail of scales, the map of your palms was drafted in plasma, and your iris is not pigment, but a distant reflection of geysers snapping like scorpions out of the ocean floor. you spent the nights dancing to the howl of sirens like no man i'd ever seen, and somewhere between our fingers, where you passed me the whiskey, i threw my arms up and remembered how to move. you spent the days following the wind's hips, you didn't care if she changed her mind, you said. you are like the belly of a sea star. slowly in the twilight i uncoiled my fear of wandering, i threw the pit into the open ocean and the rope followed, slithering down. now all we have is constellations. all we have is moon fragments and bird islands and my hair flying like a compass, like a shining battle flag. i can't smell land for miles and i am not afraid.

44

You are the 'North America' nebula in all your splendor and colors I am the remains of a supernova, even NASA has long discarded, exploded spectacularly-ancient Chinese recorded- yet still alive, for you to admire! wearily I view the star forming clouds chomping through the cosmos, enchanting still, I guess, I am, for a swirling landscape of stars like you to profess your love; I am overwhelmed, but this absurd drama will eventually plunge us in to dark holes. My darling, the cosmic dance has no rules; pain in murky regions of star formation, iridescent display of dead stars seeming to remain ever, love, loss, collision, birth or rebirth no apparent reason for anything, being and nothingness too are kaleidoscopic, just creations of auto suggestion.

0

Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC

k-balachandran

The cosmology of love and loss

You are the 'North America' nebula in all your splendor and colors I am the remains of a supernova, even NASA has long discarded, exploded spectacularly-ancient Chinese recorded- yet still alive, for you to admire! wearily I view the star forming clouds chomping through the cosmos, enchanting still, I guess, I am, for a swirling landscape of stars like you to profess your love; I am overwhelmed, but this absurd drama will eventually plunge us in to dark holes. My darling, the cosmic dance has no rules; pain in murky regions of star formation, iridescent display of dead stars seeming to remain ever, love, loss, collision, birth or rebirth no apparent reason for anything, being and nothingness too are kaleidoscopic, just creations of auto suggestion.

18

The ideosyncrasies of the cities are not found in the small towns, the dirt poor brown towns, the twitching of curtains and dressing gown towns, but the **** pulls us out of the towns and into the city where the sewers are home to the rats and the mountains built up on the streets are a home for the cats,the fat cats,the purring cats, the sharing caring who am I kidding cats, they are the leeches weekdays in suits and the weekends in knickerbockers,breech loaders,the feeding free loaders,the gum boot brigade,tea,toast and marmalade,raid the pension accounts and they get an accolade brigade. The small town mentality will be the death of me,I can see this is wrong but go along with it,up to my neck in it,with paddles I row in it, the city is full of **** The cranes, new age pterodactyls, chomping their way through the last of the daffodils,sending them downstream to a landfill in East Cheam,sometimes if I dream,I dream in black and white and the city then looks alright but in my heart I know it's crumbling,falling apart at the seams,held together by nightmares and more dreams from the townies,cub scouts and brownies,I don't dream a lot anymore.

0

Jun 22, 2014

Jun 22, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Brave unfurled

The ideosyncrasies of the cities are not found in the small towns, the dirt poor brown towns, the twitching of curtains and dressing gown towns, but the **** pulls us out of the towns and into the city where the sewers are home to the rats and the mountains built up on the streets are a home for the cats,the fat cats,the purring cats, the sharing caring who am I kidding cats, they are the leeches weekdays in suits and the weekends in knickerbockers,breech loaders,the feeding free loaders,the gum boot brigade,tea,toast and marmalade,raid the pension accounts and they get an accolade brigade. The small town mentality will be the death of me,I can see this is wrong but go along with it,up to my neck in it,with paddles I row in it, the city is full of **** The cranes, new age pterodactyls, chomping their way through the last of the daffodils,sending them downstream to a landfill in East Cheam,sometimes if I dream,I dream in black and white and the city then looks alright but in my heart I know it's crumbling,falling apart at the seams,held together by nightmares and more dreams from the townies,cub scouts and brownies,I don't dream a lot anymore.

13

I saw Peter Cottontail. I swear I did. It was he! He was in a bar last night, And he WASN'T drinking tea! Sitting next to him, I said, "Hey, ol' Pete, ol' buddy, ol' guy--- You've got time to take a break? How so? Please, tell me why." "Cut me some slack," the poor guy said. "Humans have a nasty habit Of placing incredible expectations On this weary, forlorn rabbit. "Hiding billions of eggs, come on! I'm not omnipotent, as you must know. This task has been ****** upon me Since a long time ago. "What's more, I find it rather disgusting And NOT in any manner funny When I see a kid chomping On a chocolate Easter bunny. "Furthermore, to pass on baby Rabbits as an Easter present Is NOT from MY point of view A practice I'd call very pleasant. "And as to candy resembling chicks, To me it seems so surreptitious When you're saying, 'Oh, how cute!' But really thinking, 'How delicious!' "I think it's time to pass the baton To another generous benefactor. I don't care who it is; Find a willing, starving actor. "I suggest an Easter squirrel, An Easter bear, or Easter goose. With so much on my plate there's no Time to even reproduce." I left poor Peter there at the bar As he switched to drinking brandy. I hope that he is able at least To pass out all of his eggs and candy. -by Bob B

0

Apr 9, 2017

Apr 9, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC

bob-b

Farewell, Peter Cottontail!

I saw Peter Cottontail. I swear I did. It was he! He was in a bar last night, And he WASN'T drinking tea! Sitting next to him, I said, "Hey, ol' Pete, ol' buddy, ol' guy--- You've got time to take a break? How so? Please, tell me why." "Cut me some slack," the poor guy said. "Humans have a nasty habit Of placing incredible expectations On this weary, forlorn rabbit. "Hiding billions of eggs, come on! I'm not omnipotent, as you must know. This task has been ****** upon me Since a long time ago. "What's more, I find it rather disgusting And NOT in any manner funny When I see a kid chomping On a chocolate Easter bunny. "Furthermore, to pass on baby Rabbits as an Easter present Is NOT from MY point of view A practice I'd call very pleasant. "And as to candy resembling chicks, To me it seems so surreptitious When you're saying, 'Oh, how cute!' But really thinking, 'How delicious!' "I think it's time to pass the baton To another generous benefactor. I don't care who it is; Find a willing, starving actor. "I suggest an Easter squirrel, An Easter bear, or Easter goose. With so much on my plate there's no Time to even reproduce." I left poor Peter there at the bar As he switched to drinking brandy. I hope that he is able at least To pass out all of his eggs and candy. -by Bob B

41

imagine if VCIS had escalators instead of hard stair cases and water slides in each sides just to keep our entertainment level high imagine our classrooms with movie screens instead of those pale whiteboards where you can watch the math problems as the ****** in this movie while you enjoy the lessons chomping some barbecue popcorns imagine our canteen as a 5 star Gorden Ramsy's and our library with a super secret spy base behind one of those 8 bookshelves and our tiny comfort rooms with disco ***** so we can shake a bit while we release some bits and our quad floor as the Pacific Ocean because why not imagine Koby Bryant standing in our Lakers ground just to make our school look cool imagine our school as a mental hospital or a even a county called "International Christian Republic of Victory" for we have our own flag and an anthem to sing imagine every extremes you had ever imagine but once these imaginations step in the border of wishing to change our school VCIS will never be the same because I like our school the way it is it is imperfectly perfect each of the classrooms have different crayons of personalities where everyone fills the color of this huge painting our windows are sealed with iron bars and covered with egg trays but no great movies can be fun as this movie with best friends and the those grade school students running every morning as if I was chasing them on a 13th Friday but they are happiest human beings I know and even though our campus may be smaller than others and even though there are some cracks in the edges and even though I eat fried chicken with ketchup every single lunch I will remember VCIS forever for that.

0

Dec 12, 2015

Dec 12, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC

jason-chae

Imagine

imagine if VCIS had escalators instead of hard stair cases and water slides in each sides just to keep our entertainment level high imagine our classrooms with movie screens instead of those pale whiteboards where you can watch the math problems as the ****** in this movie while you enjoy the lessons chomping some barbecue popcorns imagine our canteen as a 5 star Gorden Ramsy's and our library with a super secret spy base behind one of those 8 bookshelves and our tiny comfort rooms with disco ***** so we can shake a bit while we release some bits and our quad floor as the Pacific Ocean because why not imagine Koby Bryant standing in our Lakers ground just to make our school look cool imagine our school as a mental hospital or a even a county called "International Christian Republic of Victory" for we have our own flag and an anthem to sing imagine every extremes you had ever imagine but once these imaginations step in the border of wishing to change our school VCIS will never be the same because I like our school the way it is it is imperfectly perfect each of the classrooms have different crayons of personalities where everyone fills the color of this huge painting our windows are sealed with iron bars and covered with egg trays but no great movies can be fun as this movie with best friends and the those grade school students running every morning as if I was chasing them on a 13th Friday but they are happiest human beings I know and even though our campus may be smaller than others and even though there are some cracks in the edges and even though I eat fried chicken with ketchup every single lunch I will remember VCIS forever for that.

40

Oh mother dearest, how dare you, blaming me for the blood on your tongue and look, I see you've got a mouth full of glass chomping grotesquely, on the shards Of lies fed to everyone I watched the blood trickle out the corners of your lips as it drops on the ground it reveals the raw gory truth yet you remained senseless to the pain you caused ignoring my cries for love,compassion, understanding It's all I ever wanted as a babe I wanted a reaction from the numb corps you were encased in yet there was no mercy behind your cold sunken eyes your merciless voice like a monster booming violence my shuddering body in the corner my fragile heart beating through sharp lashing thoughts forming the words and emotions of I fear you I love you I hate you I need you I needed you These where the wounds left for me to lick clean scaring forever in linings of my fleshy chest I wanted to hold you close, but you were the wind I chased your chilly breezes forever desiring the cold affection I was angry, hatred radiated my entire body an ever lasting fever of detachment I craved relief from the scolding heat wave baring upon me Yet I was always left dehydrated my lips became dry of separation and desolate of attention slowly becoming numb to this hot unloving desert I became cold like you and I now am the wind a bone aching cold, uncaring and detached of the love and respect I lost for you as small girl.

0

Nov 13, 2013

Nov 13, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC

amina-jade

Dear Celeste

Oh mother dearest, how dare you, blaming me for the blood on your tongue and look, I see you've got a mouth full of glass chomping grotesquely, on the shards Of lies fed to everyone I watched the blood trickle out the corners of your lips as it drops on the ground it reveals the raw gory truth yet you remained senseless to the pain you caused ignoring my cries for love,compassion, understanding It's all I ever wanted as a babe I wanted a reaction from the numb corps you were encased in yet there was no mercy behind your cold sunken eyes your merciless voice like a monster booming violence my shuddering body in the corner my fragile heart beating through sharp lashing thoughts forming the words and emotions of I fear you I love you I hate you I need you I needed you These where the wounds left for me to lick clean scaring forever in linings of my fleshy chest I wanted to hold you close, but you were the wind I chased your chilly breezes forever desiring the cold affection I was angry, hatred radiated my entire body an ever lasting fever of detachment I craved relief from the scolding heat wave baring upon me Yet I was always left dehydrated my lips became dry of separation and desolate of attention slowly becoming numb to this hot unloving desert I became cold like you and I now am the wind a bone aching cold, uncaring and detached of the love and respect I lost for you as small girl.

36