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"deliciously" poems
Like I loved coffee, that's how I loved you. Like the first cigarette of the day. Or like a Beatles song blasted on the radio during a road trip to nowhere in particular. Like each slice of coffee cake, cinnamon and pecans delicately, deliciously curled into every little streusel. Like spring, when the snow melts into water and runs, rushes past yellow-colored, polka-dotted rain boots on a sun-soaked afternoon. I loved you like I love you; simply, completely, without frills and without doubt.
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Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
Love Letter
‘Why me ‘ he says ‘Why you’ I say ‘I wish I knew ‘ The feeling is overwhelming The frustration is consuming The desire is deliciously warming This emotion is heartfelt and so very real . ‘So ‘ I say That’s why
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Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC
Why me
Good sir, one thing I owe to you: to tell you that I hate thee true. Your sly advances show for real that I am but your body's meal, to be deliciously consumed, and have my sanctity be doomed. Repent, oh Devil, back to Hell! Sink back into your slimy well where from its spout burst tongues of fire to feed your wretched, black desire. And if you do not go today then under Earth and dirt you'll lay. I'll see that you ne'er have a breath until you've met your certain death. You call yourself a pious soul, yet crying's God's name you take me whole. You choke me up in your embrace, and tell me I'll be filled with "grace." Thy love is but a dark snake's skin, which when once shed shows what's within. Thy hands like teeth about to clench. The stink from out your mouth doth stench -just like the rotting fumes of graves and poisoning the prey it craves. Ah, sir, if you are even that. You pull your tricks out of a hat. But I can see the trickery and magic so it's plain to see: you do not love me for myself, you'd use me; put me on a shelf - another token that you've won. But put quite simply, sir, I'm done.
0
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
In reply to "To His Coy Mistress"
Parenthood tells me Eating ***** daily Deliciously hard work!
0
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Untitled
I'm pretty sure I dreamed you up Late last night while I was walking in the rain. I probably shouldn't tell you That nobody's ever been Proud To hold my hand In front of anyone else. It probably shouldn't mean something to me That your fingers felt natural laced with mine. Everybody has hands, Everybody can touch me. Ah, But few people can touch me And make me feel it. I could go on about your voice, The way you stumble and trip over your words That tugs at my heart in this deliciously painful way: I want to stop your confusion With a kiss. I could talk about your eyes, Sparkling, sparking a connection like a short circuit in my head That makes me have to stop and re-collect myself. With a ring of dark around the edges of the iris That I read somewhere makes somebody more beautiful, Scientifically. It didn't feel scientific. It felt gravitational. I could say lots about the way your hair Never falls the same way, And dances, reaching, in the breeze And somehow the image makes your eyes glow more. But your hands... Contact is a thing for me, you see. Skin. (Yours.) I love contact, and it's because No words get in the way of what you want to say. If you feel and wish, you need nothing more than a brushing of fingertips To say exactly what you mean to. I think you heard me, all night. I was saying everything I wasn't saying. You kept drifting back to me, your fingers on my knee Or resting in my palm, And I think that's really what did it, Honestly. What made me decide I don't care if this is a terrible idea (oh it surely is) I know I should probably make a better show of it- A token attempt, really, to be smart. But then again, when Does that ever work out? And your fingers twined with mine... I think you carry some kind of low level electric charge, And it sizzled through me every time your hand touched mine. I thought of breaking the connection a hundred times, Easier for you, Easier for me, But god, how impossible. I held the thought in my mind and it hurt me to consider. And so instead I pulled you a little closer And kept going. Outside walking in the rain early this morning, When the streets were paved in silver and gold from the sheen of the water That caught and held the soft glow of the streetlamps I thought, "Well **** this is going to keep me up nights, isn't it?" And it began immediately To pour.
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Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
The Statistical Probability of Being Struck By Lightning
I'm pretty sure I dreamed you up Late last night while I was walking in the rain. I probably shouldn't tell you That nobody's ever been Proud To hold my hand In front of anyone else. It probably shouldn't mean something to me That your fingers felt natural laced with mine. Everybody has hands, Everybody can touch me. Ah, But few people can touch me And make me feel it. I could go on about your voice, The way you stumble and trip over your words That tugs at my heart in this deliciously painful way: I want to stop your confusion With a kiss. I could talk about your eyes, Sparkling, sparking a connection like a short circuit in my head That makes me have to stop and re-collect myself. With a ring of dark around the edges of the iris That I read somewhere makes somebody more beautiful, Scientifically. It didn't feel scientific. It felt gravitational. I could say lots about the way your hair Never falls the same way, And dances, reaching, in the breeze And somehow the image makes your eyes glow more. But your hands... Contact is a thing for me, you see. Skin. (Yours.) I love contact, and it's because No words get in the way of what you want to say. If you feel and wish, you need nothing more than a brushing of fingertips To say exactly what you mean to. I think you heard me, all night. I was saying everything I wasn't saying. You kept drifting back to me, your fingers on my knee Or resting in my palm, And I think that's really what did it, Honestly. What made me decide I don't care if this is a terrible idea (oh it surely is) I know I should probably make a better show of it- A token attempt, really, to be smart. But then again, when Does that ever work out? And your fingers twined with mine... I think you carry some kind of low level electric charge, And it sizzled through me every time your hand touched mine. I thought of breaking the connection a hundred times, Easier for you, Easier for me, But god, how impossible. I held the thought in my mind and it hurt me to consider. And so instead I pulled you a little closer And kept going. Outside walking in the rain early this morning, When the streets were paved in silver and gold from the sheen of the water That caught and held the soft glow of the streetlamps I thought, "Well **** this is going to keep me up nights, isn't it?" And it began immediately To pour.
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69
He was brought into the world in poverty, in confusion, into a world of conflict and pain all of which was not his fault, all of which had nothing to do with him. He was conceived in love, but by the time he was born love had passed and all that was left was isolation and two separate parents trying hard not to acknowledge that their life together was over. I remember the many walks we took together, my son and I. He was so little and I carried him on my chest facing outward in a baby carrier and he learned how to “steer me” by pressing a foot against one of my thighs so that I would turn in the direction he pressed and he could see better what it was that had caught his eye. We walked all summer and he learned to love a certain stray cat, garbage trucks, fire engines, and motorcycles. We found and explored, it seemed, every construction site in the city and I taught him the miracle of the sunflowers that bloomed in gardens of new life so big it made us think that, perhaps, this beauty that we shared could be enough and, perhaps, could make up for the everything else that was not. When summer ended and the sunflowers went away, I assured my son that it was all right. They would return again in the spring. I had really thought they would. One day we walked on a devastating autumn day, the trees an explosion of colors, the afternoon deliciously crisp with a slight chill in the air. We were late and in a hurry to get home. Suddenly, he stopped me and turned me to see, what? I looked and, at first, I couldn’t see what it could possibly be. Suddenly, I saw. A breathtaking autumn leaf tumbled through parabolas of time now forever present, forever tumbling now for me to contemplate, there forever for me to long for, suddenly awakening our shared beginner’s mind, a moment that will resonate forever, long after the pain of many quiet afternoons without him fades relentlessly into the everlasting October light that leaves behind so many painful, unanswered questions.
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Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
The Miracle of the Sunflowers
He was brought into the world in poverty, in confusion, into a world of conflict and pain all of which was not his fault, all of which had nothing to do with him. He was conceived in love, but by the time he was born love had passed and all that was left was isolation and two separate parents trying hard not to acknowledge that their life together was over. I remember the many walks we took together, my son and I. He was so little and I carried him on my chest facing outward in a baby carrier and he learned how to “steer me” by pressing a foot against one of my thighs so that I would turn in the direction he pressed and he could see better what it was that had caught his eye. We walked all summer and he learned to love a certain stray cat, garbage trucks, fire engines, and motorcycles. We found and explored, it seemed, every construction site in the city and I taught him the miracle of the sunflowers that bloomed in gardens of new life so big it made us think that, perhaps, this beauty that we shared could be enough and, perhaps, could make up for the everything else that was not. When summer ended and the sunflowers went away, I assured my son that it was all right. They would return again in the spring. I had really thought they would. One day we walked on a devastating autumn day, the trees an explosion of colors, the afternoon deliciously crisp with a slight chill in the air. We were late and in a hurry to get home. Suddenly, he stopped me and turned me to see, what? I looked and, at first, I couldn’t see what it could possibly be. Suddenly, I saw. A breathtaking autumn leaf tumbled through parabolas of time now forever present, forever tumbling now for me to contemplate, there forever for me to long for, suddenly awakening our shared beginner’s mind, a moment that will resonate forever, long after the pain of many quiet afternoons without him fades relentlessly into the everlasting October light that leaves behind so many painful, unanswered questions.
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4
Before I knew it I ate half the bag. Fifty pounds deliciously resting the bottom of my stomach. I regret nothing. Weighing my stomach with my hands. I tried to save some. Each piece more than the last. Resting on the coffee table of her heart. I didn't expect to eat as much as I did. A decision made in haste, I smiled. Easily reaching into my own bag. Replacing what I ate with that of my own. Her pieces taste far better than mine. Knowing that they belonged to her. My heart rejoiced in knowing this. My taste buds on the other hand longed for more. Savoring the taste. Ready to reach again. Her heart, the sweetest candy I know
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Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
Brown Bag
You are a complication a welcomed conundrum our passion is mutilation your desire a dungeon The dilemma of us a selfish cycle a vendetta of trust soft touch feels spiteful Inevitable tragedy so deliciously inviting a seductive catastrophe are we loving or fighting my heavy mind dragged behind me a devilish heart out to blind me Love me problematically I accept your burden adore me traumatically bittersweet like my bourbon so torture me until I smile : )
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
a bittersweet affair
You tease, excite entice me surely promise to melt slowly eager tongue can’t bear waiting illicit desire awakens, pulling myself back you though, stronger one, seductively luring me you deliciously forbidden serving of chocolate ice cream! Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 12:06 PM UTC
Submission (Pyramid)
Touch me my soul make the words roll over my skin Only if you know how to write to me my angel my kin I am not waiting for a mask not either a disguise Open your veins to me Let me read in the red waters on my lips Let me read the words, free me of the words in any possible way may the rain down my eyelids may they kiss my legs Make me laugh like a springtime morning A soft laughter that tears up the skies Those who gives shivers and marvels send a shiver to my spine make my head spin feed on my sapiophile soul more never stop or only to make me miss you only to make me deliciously pine for them ever more I am tired by the dalliances I want the four season muse You are so right I am the demure sylph Inured by the tar black clouds and the tempests so delicate with those thin dragonfly lyrics It's all made of your sighs and your caresses One day perhaps you'll have your own epiphany You will call me Marie and all of my other names You'll use your precious eloquence to tell me How we were meant to be Resonate like a familiar sound snowing in my mind Purifying the emotional landscape NOW is the time even if there's no hurry Haven't we lost enough time to be without one another Every of my names no matter my dress They will all adore you as bitter as sweet I'll be on your ego like a caress I will read you like a sassy poem Like an impatient flame You'll be the one who dares to be frail You'll dive in my treasure and get out of the bitter sea Together like a team united for the beauty of the worse(...)
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
"You cannot live when you are untouchable. Life is vulnerability."(Édouard Boubat, Notebooks, 1958)
Touch me my soul make the words roll over my skin Only if you know how to write to me my angel my kin I am not waiting for a mask not either a disguise Open your veins to me Let me read in the red waters on my lips Let me read the words, free me of the words in any possible way may the rain down my eyelids may they kiss my legs Make me laugh like a springtime morning A soft laughter that tears up the skies Those who gives shivers and marvels send a shiver to my spine make my head spin feed on my sapiophile soul more never stop or only to make me miss you only to make me deliciously pine for them ever more I am tired by the dalliances I want the four season muse You are so right I am the demure sylph Inured by the tar black clouds and the tempests so delicate with those thin dragonfly lyrics It's all made of your sighs and your caresses One day perhaps you'll have your own epiphany You will call me Marie and all of my other names You'll use your precious eloquence to tell me How we were meant to be Resonate like a familiar sound snowing in my mind Purifying the emotional landscape NOW is the time even if there's no hurry Haven't we lost enough time to be without one another Every of my names no matter my dress They will all adore you as bitter as sweet I'll be on your ego like a caress I will read you like a sassy poem Like an impatient flame You'll be the one who dares to be frail You'll dive in my treasure and get out of the bitter sea Together like a team united for the beauty of the worse(...)
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37
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, Pristine sands aglow under a deep blue sky, Crabbing and kite flying, every day a perpetual cream tea, Never mind the bites and stings, the sunburn and occasional tears, the hours flew deliciously by, Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, Endless games and innocent playful frolics, Hide and seek in the dunes, eyes barely covered and a speedy count to twenty, Mum and Dad fussing and fretting, always late for the midday picnics, Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, Rainy days didn’t stop the fun, funfairs and arcades beckoned, Never managed to hook those ****** cuddly toys, made Dad so angry! Waste of time and money Mum always reckoned, Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, Harmless nostalgia or dangerous reverie? Perhaps things were never as I imagined them to be, But I ache for those happier days, and ease this endlessly painful adult misery, Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood © Robert Porteus
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Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 8:39 AM UTC
Serendipity-by-the-Sea
Ko Ko to Go Go a prelude to a kiss dance with Chubby Checker lift a slo gin fizz Head bobs to Be Bop flip the B Side now mellowtune in monotone two ears for stereo wow! Wonderment of Duke and Miles swinging kool birthin boplicity urban crush the hipsters rush jazz joints cross the city Firery sax emote a clash strain ears of credulity Lester leaps creative heat nips harden on my ******* Max taps exotic wax Django's quick pickin finger snaps flip my lid lips deliciously sippin Eurozone a Zen zone a blue infinitive smokin big peeps dig don pink wigs fat spliffs hot token My new suede shoes walks west end blues Pop's cornet got me tippin his open blast first to last I like cornbread, barbecue and fine home jazz cookin jbm Oakland 3/12/10
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Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
I Like Jazz
sometimes i really want a juicy ripe deliciously sweet pineapple on a hot summer day the way the juice drips down my chin as i devour the sweet succulent fruit other times i might want a healthy green fruit to snack on such as an avocado feeling the rough interior skin only to cut it open and find the soft green buttery deliciousness inside i love the way my lips feel as the smooth flesh hits my throat with flavor you see i like both of these fruits being bisexual is like enjoying these fruits i will always like both but on some days i might want more of the other but no matter what i will always love both
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
pineapples & avocados
As I lay beside my darling On an early Sunday morn, I could feel her rounded softness Sleeping under blankets warm. My mind caroused the memories And loitered on it's way And found itself deliciously, Immersed in golden play. I remembered something special In the way my little boy would look As his eyes rose up in wonderment When I read his favorite book. And the joy involved in feeding A hungry little mouth When the porridge spooned all over From the eyebrows heading south. A tantalizing moment On the beach down by the sea, In the warm December sunshine With my happy family. We were running in the black sand Drawing circles with a stick As the surging waves approached them Laughing little boys were quick. Laughing, happy moments And some sad ones like the day When dear old Meg, our Labrador, Got sick and passed away. Young Boaz in his sadness Climbed the big tree to it's crown And it took a lot of pleading To persuade him to come down. And young Solly played the taniwha At the Cornwall Park school play And a better taniwha has yet To grace the stage today. A natural in his element This young comedian So hilariously funny As he drew the audience in. The tender, loving moments As we both strolled arm in arm Through the verdant Ferntree Gully With it's sunlit grace and charm. And the towering eucalyptus, Hanging wood smoke in the air And the whiplash resonation Of the lyrebird hidden there. Of Buttercup's wild parties When fancy dress was king, When everyone would whoop it up And laugh and dance and sing. When mum's and dad's and little kids All joined the happy throng With spud mashing as a ceremony And a night of fun and song. Of sitting in the garden With your feet up and a book And a cold beer at your elbow And a barbecue to cook. With the easy feel of family As they go about their day And the joyous sound of summer When two noisy tui's play. Memories of yesterday Moments in the life Of ecstasy and agony And wonderment and plight. And the ordinary ness of everything And the magic everywhere, Like the auburn in the sunlight As it strikes my darling's hair. Marshalg Mangere Bridge 10 October 2009
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May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 7:36 PM UTC
Memorable Moments
As I lay beside my darling On an early Sunday morn, I could feel her rounded softness Sleeping under blankets warm. My mind caroused the memories And loitered on it's way And found itself deliciously, Immersed in golden play. I remembered something special In the way my little boy would look As his eyes rose up in wonderment When I read his favorite book. And the joy involved in feeding A hungry little mouth When the porridge spooned all over From the eyebrows heading south. A tantalizing moment On the beach down by the sea, In the warm December sunshine With my happy family. We were running in the black sand Drawing circles with a stick As the surging waves approached them Laughing little boys were quick. Laughing, happy moments And some sad ones like the day When dear old Meg, our Labrador, Got sick and passed away. Young Boaz in his sadness Climbed the big tree to it's crown And it took a lot of pleading To persuade him to come down. And young Solly played the taniwha At the Cornwall Park school play And a better taniwha has yet To grace the stage today. A natural in his element This young comedian So hilariously funny As he drew the audience in. The tender, loving moments As we both strolled arm in arm Through the verdant Ferntree Gully With it's sunlit grace and charm. And the towering eucalyptus, Hanging wood smoke in the air And the whiplash resonation Of the lyrebird hidden there. Of Buttercup's wild parties When fancy dress was king, When everyone would whoop it up And laugh and dance and sing. When mum's and dad's and little kids All joined the happy throng With spud mashing as a ceremony And a night of fun and song. Of sitting in the garden With your feet up and a book And a cold beer at your elbow And a barbecue to cook. With the easy feel of family As they go about their day And the joyous sound of summer When two noisy tui's play. Memories of yesterday Moments in the life Of ecstasy and agony And wonderment and plight. And the ordinary ness of everything And the magic everywhere, Like the auburn in the sunlight As it strikes my darling's hair. Marshalg Mangere Bridge 10 October 2009
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75
deliciously ruined poor little human crying her eyes out in hurt remnant from great things image of great kings kicked up by wind like the dirt they say who you are is deep down within but i’m right here, can’t you see it’s disgusting one can’t devise the nature of light without all the ugly to shape and define so please don’t blame me if my soul’s a bit dusty moonbeams are just dead skin glowing who we are 's just dead skin going on and on and on again to a place where the night-lights never end moonbeams are just dead skin gleaming who we are 's just dead skin screaming over and over and over again why won't the night-lights ever end? it's funny how the things that are odd creepy and macabre are the things we dare call the face of God if we end up gone for once just be wrong seek beauty in horror you stumble upon write them in poems a lyric of song and throw off the angels by singing along moonbeams are just dead skin glowing who we are 's just dead skin going on and on and on again to a place where the night-lights never end moonbeams are just dead skin gleaming who we are 's just dead skin screaming over and over and over again why won't the night-lights ever end? it's funny how the things that are odd creepy and macabre are the things we dare call the face of God and when all is said everyone is dead so why won’t they call me a moonbeam instead? if i’m a moonbeam and you’re a moonbeam why can’t a moonbeam be the face of God?
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Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 10:05 PM UTC
moonbeams
Hazelnut colored eyes, dark  liquorish hair, bright red cherry lips, cinnamon brown freckles, sprinkled over your, smooth caramel complexion, spilling into your tightly woven deliciously lovely  frame.
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Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Yummy
The Decider-in-Chief made another hard decision, rebebilitatin a debilitating Gaddafi. The Agog Decider sleekly peeked into the bleak soul of the master Bedouin. The Pious Decider peered pretty deeply, so its hard to tell what his arcane rebelations revealed. Some say The Jaundiced Decider, saw the desert bleeding deliciously malicious sweet crude onto the scabby tongues of Halliburton Executives while Big Time Vice Dickey Boy ****** a petrol nozzle dry, licking the dripped drops that drizzled from the shoot hole, so as not to waste a precious drop to satiate the black viscous goo coursing through the ebony veins of his chingling heart. Others say The Condoning Decider sized up the man and saw a brother-in-arms in the fight against The Evil Doers; yet failed to see the revolting obscenities his new comrade-in-arms inflicted upon his own body politic. The Forgetful Decider, blessed with amnesia forgot Lockerbie and applauded BP's royal court of justice for pardoning all perps. The Oblivious Decider's near sightedness failed to foresee a brewing blow-back amassing in the desert winging its way home on the blasting sands of a blistering Saharan sirocco. The Pollyannish Decider envisioned grand spectacles, only happy visions of Beyonce, JZ, Usher and the Def Jam Buddha Russell Simmons yodeling filthy lucre tunes, sending giggling tweets while partying down with Muammar's posse of martinets and way cool far out crazy execs drunk with the power that blinds the eye to all discernment. The Decider decides. Music Selection: Lady Ga Ga Beyonce, Telephone Oakland 3/3/11 jbm
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
The Decider
The Decider-in-Chief made another hard decision, rebebilitatin a debilitating Gaddafi. The Agog Decider sleekly peeked into the bleak soul of the master Bedouin. The Pious Decider peered pretty deeply, so its hard to tell what his arcane rebelations revealed. Some say The Jaundiced Decider, saw the desert bleeding deliciously malicious sweet crude onto the scabby tongues of Halliburton Executives while Big Time Vice Dickey Boy ****** a petrol nozzle dry, licking the dripped drops that drizzled from the shoot hole, so as not to waste a precious drop to satiate the black viscous goo coursing through the ebony veins of his chingling heart. Others say The Condoning Decider sized up the man and saw a brother-in-arms in the fight against The Evil Doers; yet failed to see the revolting obscenities his new comrade-in-arms inflicted upon his own body politic. The Forgetful Decider, blessed with amnesia forgot Lockerbie and applauded BP's royal court of justice for pardoning all perps. The Oblivious Decider's near sightedness failed to foresee a brewing blow-back amassing in the desert winging its way home on the blasting sands of a blistering Saharan sirocco. The Pollyannish Decider envisioned grand spectacles, only happy visions of Beyonce, JZ, Usher and the Def Jam Buddha Russell Simmons yodeling filthy lucre tunes, sending giggling tweets while partying down with Muammar's posse of martinets and way cool far out crazy execs drunk with the power that blinds the eye to all discernment. The Decider decides. Music Selection: Lady Ga Ga Beyonce, Telephone Oakland 3/3/11 jbm
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183
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮ Deliciously sweet street treat From dough unsweetened Usually long, thin or thick Deep fried, golden-brown Sprinkled with sugar mixed with cinnamon Chocolate dip Aaah! ╰⊰✿⊱╮
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
╰⊰✿ ́Churros'✿⊱╮
Beautiful blue berries Blood red cherries… Swirling in the night Chocolate chip covered thief appearing with fright The beat of the candy heart vibrates with weak deliciousness While the frozen dessert screams its loyal wickedness There was a flaw in the meal For the law wasn’t happy and signed the seal A perfect good journey turns into a nightmare The monstrous ice cream still screaming its snare And now the story rises As the peanut butter footsteps arrives and surprises A strawberry invitation is handed to the achiever Icy tears hangs like icicles from the law breaker The peanut butter melts away and now the story reaches its ****** The salty eyes are now side tracked Beautiful blue berries Blood red cherries… They suddenly disappear The candy heart beat slows and is replaced with cold fear Ice cream drips into silence cutting off its screams Chocolate chip covered thief fades, leaving a ghost of its beams The flashing thief in the night Is finally gone, but the emptiness leaves a fright Yea I was hungry and extremely frightened So when the police stopped me, my imagination became deliciously enlightened
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Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
The Flashing Thief
So deliciously dark, The sultry taste of pure lust, Lingering upon my wet tongue; so hot! I smile, lapping up your slinky essence, Writhing, twisting, arching, resisting, Attempting to deny my devilish charm, Hiding behind flimsy veils of innocence. Only, I know, deep inside, you burn, No chains, or bonds, could ever hold you, Knowing you want me, so very much. Parting your hastily erected defences, I ****** you up; we plunge into the fire, As one, the flames consume, seared raw, Forging an emotional alloy, thrashed out, Hammered upon the anvil of sheer pleasure, Quivering, breathless, enraptured and blissful, Again and again, leaving us both sated, Still tasting of sultry lust, So deliciously dark. ©Paul M Chafer 2014
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
Deliciously Dark
No one saw it coming, that warm September day- Not the workers at the pudding shack Who mixed sweet treats for pay. Not the Rookie at the pressure valves Not the people in the town It was the Rookies’ rank incompetence That set in motion what went down. Nine vats of Snack Time pudding Exploded with a roar Nine hundred thousand gallons Went oozing out the door The workers never had a chance On this, their final day Ending up like Easter bunnies For a giant’s holiday That mighty wave of chocolate. Like a Tsunami hit the town. Sweet creamy death swept over them Deliciously, they drowned. Others turned and tried to flee. They ran for all their worth. The swift were lucky to escape This scrumptious hell on earth The survivors of the snack slide Lost all they owned in town It was a diabetics’ wet dream Everything was chocolate brown. It was the worst snacktastrophe Our land had ever seen. Obama sent marines with spoons The air force dropped whipped cream
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Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 10:50 PM UTC
The Chocolate Pudding Disaster
Eyes meeting eyes as anticipation peaks hearts pounding fast even skipping beats. A slow moving burn blissful fire on the rise gentleness in the moment emotions intensify. Fingertips trace passion flows free souls lock together sparks you see. Melding into one another as lips meet time and space stills repeat… repeat…repeat… A magical moment deliciously divine that first kiss dripping of honeyed sweet wine. ~
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Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 8:53 PM UTC
That First Kiss
. *The sensual caress           twilight mist impearled flesh           alighting a feral desire           within blossoming spring petals The newness of uncovered skin           a sweetness on unsated lips ,           the taste of passion and salty *******           with hastened breath           sighs do brush with warm ****** breeze                                  across my naked chest           wild feathers sweeten           tender touch                                 ... emanating           sensual awakenings Arousing buried desires           unable to hold back           constant cravings           the inevitable currents           pummeling shameless floodgates with arising untamed springtides swell Fleshly enslaved yen --   energy sprouts tingling sensations           nascent buds blossoming deeply           flourishing exploding flames             bursting flush                                        ... deliciously white hot In an unstoppable carnal moment           passion betides           like the surging sea ; Rising and falling crescendos           unleashed waves crashing ,           drowning in the rhythmic undertow           interlaced bodies heaving adrift in the moment            like entangled seaweeds                                             in a riptide          as the rolling thunder storm           dances across invigorated tides          with a surging cadence of cresting waves bloom          caught in the Rhythm and the Sea*                            ✩ ✩ ☼ ✩ ✩
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Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
The Rhythm and the Sea ...(sensual)
. *The sensual caress           twilight mist impearled flesh           alighting a feral desire           within blossoming spring petals The newness of uncovered skin           a sweetness on unsated lips ,           the taste of passion and salty *******           with hastened breath           sighs do brush with warm ****** breeze                                  across my naked chest           wild feathers sweeten           tender touch                                 ... emanating           sensual awakenings Arousing buried desires           unable to hold back           constant cravings           the inevitable currents           pummeling shameless floodgates with arising untamed springtides swell Fleshly enslaved yen --   energy sprouts tingling sensations           nascent buds blossoming deeply           flourishing exploding flames             bursting flush                                        ... deliciously white hot In an unstoppable carnal moment           passion betides           like the surging sea ; Rising and falling crescendos           unleashed waves crashing ,           drowning in the rhythmic undertow           interlaced bodies heaving adrift in the moment            like entangled seaweeds                                             in a riptide          as the rolling thunder storm           dances across invigorated tides          with a surging cadence of cresting waves bloom          caught in the Rhythm and the Sea*                            ✩ ✩ ☼ ✩ ✩
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