"dink" poems
(thanx all for the great suggestions)
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women who wink
drive men to drink
together, glasses clink
tattoos follow in ink
and that ain’t the only thing
~
the tiller tied & forgot,
the slip knot jinxed
the sailboat nearly sinks
~
he cries aloud “you minx!”
I’m all done in,
you’ve got me sminked,^
you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink
~
she smirked and laughed that slinky mink,
“clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx,
count to cinq, don’t overthink,
join me overboard into the ****
I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink
where drowning possibilities are next to nothink
promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
(Warning: This poem has been de-activated on another site. You must be 18 yrs. old to read this; although we were only 15 then)
Way back then,
When we were
Post-pubescent
Boys,
We sat in a circle,
Not a **** ring,
And rhymed our things
Like this:
You make my **** rock;
You make my thing sing;
You make my **** stink;
You make my log throb;
You make my stick thick;
You make my chub rub;
You make my ******* long;
You make my stump jump;
You make my pole roll;
You make my wiener leaner;
You make my bone moan;
You make my man stand;
You make my limp primp;
You make my rod applaud;
You make my spear smear;
You make my peter sweeter;
You make my one eye cry.
And all in unison:
You make my hard on.
We'd continue with our lines,
Til the case was as empty
As our rhymes.
Them there days of simple joys,
Post pubescent
Boys with toys.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
buzzzzzzz
The bus engine idles
Intensifying the hammering of little gnomes
On my skull
Their tin mallets **** dinking* incessantly
Throbbing
Painful numb as waves crash to escape
The confines of my head
A small clownfish throwing his tiny body
Against the walls again
And again
And again
ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump
The bus hits three large bumps in a row
Jostling and jolting me into excruciating confusion
So tired and so alert
Drifting off to consciousness
I have got to escape this headache...
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 3:02 PM UTC
diabetes
comes from treaties
from the hoagie fest
to the real test:
shrink
and his
****
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
the fates have made their decision...
i will be late for poetry class
FOREVER.
thank you,
lexmark printer
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
In my droom wereld...
Daar, in die verte, is n bed vir as ek moeg raak.
n Berg wat ek gebruik as n kuns muur.
En n oop veld vol rose.
Bo my, die blou lug met reen druppels wat val, maar wat nie nat maak nie.
My gedagtes wat rond sweef.
musiek wat gehoor word maar nie gesien word nie.
En dan, jy.
n Bed vir my en jou.
Jou naam op die berg met klippe, gevorm soos harte, gepak.
n Oop veld rose wat jou emosie kleur wys.
Reen druppels wat val, wys my jou trane.
My gedagtes wat vir jou wys *** spesiaal jy is vir my.
Musiek om als te laat kalmeer.
En jy, vir my om lief te he, sonder om te stres oor wat jy sal **** of se as jy weet jy is die een wat ek wil he.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Gebroke sit ek
my hart vol emosies
my gesig uitdrukkingloos
Di masker groei vas-
almal **** ek glimlag
maar my hart skree van pyn
my siel staan snikkend
en my glimlag verlore!
ek wonder oor liefde
ek wonder oor haat
wnt in hierdi eensame wereld
gryp ons almal na hoop
verwagtend di antwoord le daaragter
ek verlang na jo stem
ek mis jo oe op my
en ek wil nt luister *** j asemhaal
wnt sonder jou voel ek leeg!
So hier staan ek mt my hart in my hande...
hopend jy gee wel 'n bietjie om...*
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
Dorslip en droogkeel huig ek
in die donker van terg gees middernag
vir die soet nektar name
waarna hierdie barslip hunker.
Skimletters vorm elke klinker
net so ryk soos 'n paar gisters terug.
Pype weerhou om die klank deur te laat,
wat finaal n skerwestorting bring.
Is ek aan n groter soeke om woorde te smee-
wat getuig van verlange en ander leed
,of aan jou invloed die pryseer te gee.
**** jy in heimwee ook dan aan my,
dit is al wat ek wil weet
of het jy ten einde my liefde by n ander gaan kry?
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
*Binne d vlgde 20 min verjaar jy ~ jy word ouer ~ nog 'n jaar verby ~ waisted! Or so it feels! Ma net vi een rede... Its another year I did not spend with you!!! Jys my love at first sight! The love of my life!! And I'm not there wif you!!!! Ek hoop mt my hele hart ~ jy geniet jou aand! Weet net ek sit hier ~ en **** an jo wens ek was daar saam mt jo!!! Happy birthday!!*
Apr 16, 2011
Apr 16, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC
You enter
Riding on a soundtrack of rising blood pressure and self defeat
Every conversation kills itself at the sight of you;
A joke not quite worth telling, that no one would laugh at anyway
Every eye stops to stare at you
An aging car crash of a human
Wrecked and painted in dried blood
Seducing onlookers with a rinky-dink smile
Missing the convenient yellow caution tape that tells you life stops here
You complain to fill the spaces left by your depleting self worth
That wasn't much there in the first place
**In the mirror you see dirt
And you can't wash it away**, no matter how hard you try
***Cause you're ****** in all the wrong ways
Up until you die***
Unintelligently designed
Your stupidity is almost genius
You blame others for mishaps that you have gained
Your sickness a silent auction
Anyone could have caught it
Infectious Anonymous
Attended every week
And yet you're still so pathetic
you don't accept you're a disease worse than any flare up that could take hold
You don't know how to recognize the facts that you've been told
You complain to fill the spaces left by your depleting self worth
That wasn't much there in the first place
**In the mirror you see dirt
And you can't wash it away**, no matter how hard you try
***Cause you're ****** in all the wrong ways
Up until you die***
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
Ruffles your hair in the soft of the summer patch, sunbeams cling to you like honey then later cling to my ever growing hopes of happy happy love. silly silly silly winky-dink he bruises you with stains of purple-pink which later fade to yellow like 'le soleil' friction burns will come from 'le soleil' and linger and cling to your chest like an arrow through the heart. heart-throb. you belittle me one too many times doodle-bug.
Rosie roses are nice to fancy and fathom but thorns only puncture pale skin and drain you of your ruby juice until you are nothing but a dusty, hollow skin shell. pale naïve and empty to be filled with dreams, desires and demands as well. hate is not easily boiled in your kitchen kettle water but I think that's a good thing munchkin.
Hold back your disdain bite your tongue crack your teeth and do not repeat what your brain whispered it has been lying to you since the day you were born you silly silly silly... this is a ripping seam in your moonbeam and your emotions begin curdle and to leak out like fish but then you remember crying is okay but **** such salt water back in and say naught. distraught.
At witching hour it will come at you a cold sweat in the night where your fingers tingle and your meat twinkles faces before you with holes for irises. they have been sent to inject mishap and upside down rainbow viruses. when was the last bedtime you had cloudless soul with organic thoughts? oh fleshly girl tip-toe lightly as blood trickles down your ego and melts it away to stardust to form another cheeky doodle-bug munchkin grin
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
Plink..plinkplink...flip, ***** **** plink.
Donk, donkdonk, plink, doink, ****
Flipflap..dink, plinkplink, doink.
Doink, doinkdoink, whirrrrrr, buzzzzzzzz ****
"Oh ****
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
Plink, doinkbink, flipflap, bink.
Twirrrrrrrrtwirrrrrrrr, twirrrrrrr *****
flipflap.....clunk
"Oh....Man"!
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
Plinkplinkboinkdoink...flip...bonk shhhupduuuup.
**** doink, ***** shuuuup.
plink, ploinkploink, **** doink.
booooouuuuupboooooouuuup...boink
flipflap...clunk
"Shoot"!
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
plinkplinkplinkplink, doink flipflap, bonk, ***** twirrrrrr.
doink, ***** bonk, wuuuuuup, twirrrrrr, puurrrrrrrr.
plink, ploink, doinkdoink, purrrrrrrr, shuuuuupshuuuup
plinkplinkplink, doink, flip, doink, flip, trrrruuuuurrrrp.
"YES"! (shakes machine)
TILT! TILT! TILT!
"NOooooooooo"!
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 8:02 PM UTC
my engel sonder vlerke,
jy het onverwags jou verskyning gemaak
my hart geneem
sonder om eens aan my te raak
met my hart op my mou
al was ek soveel keer gewaarsku
tog voel ek só veilig by jou
my engel sonder vlerke,
ek wil weet wat laat jou lag,
*** om jou gemoed op te beur
as jy nie kans sien vir die dag
ek wil weet *** jy koffie drink,
jou hartslae per minuut
en waaraan jy elke sekonde van die dag ****
my engel sonder vlerke
met jou groenbruin oë
en mooiwees glimlag
laat jy my weer in sprokies glo
vir jou doen ek alles,
sonder om ‘n oog te knip,
net oor ek oor jou mal is
alles net vir
my engel sonder vlerke.
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 12:49 AM UTC
A simple love life
Opportune love
Presence everywhere
One chooses to be aware
Awake and aware of truth personified
Happy with nothing left to lose
Beauty follows grace
Everything changes
How depends on
Face to face
Whisper
Love will not be contained
To hell with the moon
We glow
Before or after transforms
Here now in paradise
Create universes
Of infinite passions place
Each-others
Infinite
Embrace
Simultaneously
Synchronizing-hearts to beat as one
Divine straight true pure
Cuts bleeding
Right
Through
America's
Heartland ironic eh
Fear our matchless glory
Please perhaps maybe space to love
Lovers thinking about moving
Gratefully happy to reflect now
Believing cute twists of hope hot sultry silly
Buttery-silky-soft sticky kisses for real
Checks hearts pulsating limitless too late
Love is ready in all ways here today
Be relieved late again
Coy shy dreadful
Sweats
Joy why
So few
Regrets
Joy has found
A simple love
Buttery silky soft
Coy inky **** you & me
Crafting love-life-peace
Show is over go home to simple love
More love over love under again repeatedly unscripted
Coming back for more shocked *** dripping & jaw dropping
Focused and riveted rocketing peculiar passions with pure presence
Terrestrial love **** beautiful eyes style points grace
Throne of blushing stallion champion of abundance giving patience to naughty time to play savor Every mentionable edible
Enjoying fine fresh refined tempered real touched up and down love move it all around for real Even still hear
Sacred silence
Convert no one will ever know
Vegas style passion love over flowing
Powerfully connected heart wrenching censor ships to shore
Love confidently drooling dreaming imagining magical wet mystical
dripping warm sea foam breezes Touch intent
Lips tongues mesh definitely overdue done
Multiple heart-beats resonate as more than one
Mushy in your face grace
Presenting happiness fun presence
Sexy-very-sexy fate is alive
One chooses 2 to awake to 3 awareness
Awake and aware of freedom truth
Love love love is within the eyes of the wise
To amuse a muse loose
To a simple love life.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
I'm still caught up
In the faucets
Ive been brought up
My losses thought up
In loss-less
Fossils
soldering
The slaughter
Atop
An my inner adulterer
In the fodder
Of a ****
I am the will
Of my weakest link
Give me a shrink
To **** away at the sheets
Of freedom
Drink away the stink
Of freedom
You cant free them
Cant believe them
Cant be them
Just retrieve them
From this life
Deceive them
To the knife
Bleed them
From the heights
Of ego
Let em flow
To never
In the blight
Of severed stems
With sedatives
And seduction
Isolate the malfunctions
Of my internal combustion's
Busting in
Annihilation
Of the problem
Manifestation
Of the solemn
In columns of regret
Inscribed across my chest
Blessed with contempt
For the clause
Unmindful of the laws
And stalled
I will stand
Where you fall
And call
To myself
From the stealth
Of broken homes
And hungry dogs
I am the fog
Of arson
The discontent
Of the larceny
Of the peasants
I'm blessed in the curses
Of burnt
Churches
But in worse ways
Im versed
In aversive
Silence
Dispersed
In cursive slices
I realise this
Is
The decisive
Moment
In which i wake
For the sake
Of procreation
Infection
Of a system
Convection
Of a prison
Citizen
Of a religion
Under taxation
To live in it
I'm illiterate to the
Commonalities
I cant depict
the squiggled lines
Its a tragic comedy
Giggling to the rhyme
I think it is
Perfection
At its peak
Pulp for the weak
Its neat!
I cant tell
If i am half awake
Or half asleep
But text is cheap
So i bleed
On screens
But dont mean
A thing
In dreamless
States
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Tussen my gesteelde fotos
En bekoorde akoorde
Verstik ek aan twyfel
In my verlies aan woorde
Ń Oorverdowende stilte
In die kuberruim
,Die koperkoord kletskamers
En bakkiesblad boodskappe.
Trek op jou neus vir
Die new-age kakkerlakke.
Tik my vingers stompies
Op die gladde skerm
Rook in die aande as
My gemoedsbekakkings kerm
Oor die stilte op die foon...
Rukkings deur my lyf
My harts onwrikbare toorn
Ek **** aan jou
Ek droom van jou
Ek wens en hoop op jou
, maar self met die masker
Van moderne tegnologie;
**** jy ook
*** raas die stilte nou?
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
I once scrungled a tungus, dubbed Binglo Bungus,
Whose cungles were trungly, and cuds cumpily cunk.
But his drungles did fungle, so sadly he bungled,
And without hesitation, he glunked.
Four fingles he fangled, when, biggaly bangled,
Approached not a crowd, but an army of glimps.
And they clinkled his binkle, as he chinkily changled,
But The Bungus stopped not for the bimps.
He dringled those hob-glimps! Their ****** was drompled!
Their pebuses, feeble, buckled under the frung.
And he chungled their drungles, with fury he plungled.
To this day, not a glimp stands to cung.
But his fangling, untrungled, was far from the fringus,
And he fangled on forward another five flinks.
On the fifth flink, he bebussed, as his fangle was pepis,
So he humpled the drumpling ****
Sir Bungus fangled homeward, his blumpus was tungled.
His drungles rejonked, for the fungling was done.
They erected a frangus to plingus The Bungus,
And the drumpling **** that he'd won.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
Is it just imagination, or
Is Wal-Mart running out of
**** to put on their shelves?
I swear.
(And I intend on cee-ceeing
Elizabeth Warren with this.)
So, you want to do something
About inequality in America?
So, you want to give the working stiffs,
A Fighting Chance,
Is that the name of
Your book, Senator Liz?
I’ve heard it all before:
It’s Hope & Change Redux, Babaloo!
(And don’t get me started on Osama Obama.)
Here’s my plan:
You go aisle to aisle in any Superstore
With a little notepad and pencil.
Every time you see some
Large plastic piece of ****
Realizing they sell
15 million of ‘em every year,
All made by some Dink-Chink in China.
QUESTION: So, what do you do, Mr. Policy Wonk?
ANSWER: Federally-subsidize the
Building & Operation of a plant
Manufacturing that **** right here in Detroit.
Or Atlanta, or Hartford,
Cleveland or Fitchburg,
Or even Oakland,
Where San Francisco poor continue to squeeze.
(Don’t get me started on Urban Gentrification.)
Trust me on this:
AMERICAN JOBS
Will deodorize everything that
Stinks about The Economy.
“Capital Flight Gone Global:
Invest where Labor comes cheap.
Export those American jobs again & again.”
QUESTION: What’s the difference
Between a middle-class person
And a poor person in America?
A middle-class job,
********
But I digress.
I was sharing an observation:
Wal-Mart’s shelves are
Not as luscious, as they once were.
Gaps left for
PINEAPPLE CHUNKS,
With only CRUSHED PINEAPPLE
Cans in stock, e.g.
So much for that On-line,
Real-time,
Instant supply-chain,
Super-duper
Inventory system, Mr. Walton.
Arkansas wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
Was it Mr. Sam?
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
Dit is verganklik
om te **** jou neus is plat
onder die, masker,
It is ludicrous
to view our noses as flat
face masks for false fronts.
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 4:53 PM UTC
Let's hit the road
my partner in crime
lets load up our guns
burn our I.D.'s
and hop on the first
freight train headed south
to Mexican tequila
and the baking sun and sand
living life in flashes of violence
like lightening pitch forks in the sky
streaking across the barren places
which are yet to be tamed by man
we'll gun down sheriffs and posses
and **** cheap mescal
and gulf water
and dust
keeping each other safe
in the low din of the early morning
as an orange fire flickers against
burning out to embers,
so vulnerable to the wind,
against all odds still burning
and we will wake before the sun
and find somewhere
where we no longer
feel the need to run
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
The Places I’ve been
I’ve been in rain, I’ve stood
In puddles and I have watched
As the pools of water climb up my pant leg
I’ve traveled to different continents
I’ve hiked up the mountains that separate them
And I thought I had seen most of everything
The dips of this world and its highest peaks
And after all of this seeing
After all of these places of being
The place I remember seeing the best
Was a place I wouldn’t have guessed
Some rink-dink of a church out west
And even now I cannot tell you what
Art looks like inside the Louvre
But every detail of those nuns I can tell you know
The sound of their forks hitting metal plates
The sound of those same forks when
They were pulled between teeth
Their black coats fraying against the ground
Their protruding knees as they bend down
When they were praying the tiny mumbles
From a distance sounded like sweet-nothings
And I thought that this was their version
Of making love to the Lord.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
What’s poetic about a foundry worker’s son,
Born and bred in Leeds, now idling my time away
In a rinky **** seaside town? What’s poetic
About sitting on my laptop reading Facebook
And pressing Like now and then? It’s got me typing
Like a modern poet, no rhyme or metre to be seen.
I’m going to (roughly) count the syllables then chop this
Into verses. Then post it on my favourite
Poetry sites, plus my blog.
Perhaps there’s poetry in me being a Working Class Boy made good.
In me being a Pro Careers Worker after failing
My Eleven Plus. Even got to Grammar School
For a couple of years. Taught English for six.
The Internet is my Salvation.
Television too.
Is that prosaic enough for you?
**** that rhymed! Knowledge and images,
That yet beget… and much more too.
No need to be there in person.
Just enjoy.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 2:29 AM UTC
Bo op 'n berg
Met my bobbejaan gedagtes wat terg
Die eggo van my mania skree terug
Wat soek jy hier?
Ek drink uit die rivier
Ek sink my oë in die rooi son
Ek **** alweer
Die donker wolke
Die reën wat kom
Ek laat my gedagtes so dans
Plek tot plek
Gras van Kees
En mens en vlees
Sny deur my
Woede en naaktheid
Die lag van 'n sekere malheid
En die sagtheid van jou moeder ken
En dan meer bring ek twee
Van my na die tafel in 'n oop gesprek
Met my leemtes en my onbeheerbare
Soeke na wat ek herken binne my donker gate
Ek dwaal verlate
In riviere van die samelewing
Die masjien wat liggies trap op ligte wat skyn en verdwyn
In die strate van spoed en bloed
Die woorde uit die bek van die dier
Die ongetemde kwaad van primate
Wat stoei met homself en sy produk en sy bestaan en sy wêreld en sy alles
Tot hy verval en wegkwyn
Verdwyn agter 'n swart gordyn bedoel vir die son en sterre
Waarheid en verlossing
Waar vind ek die antwoord vir alles?
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 5:40 PM UTC
i just wanted to pick your bones
white daisies in a field
and weave them together
a halo to float over my head
so wherever i'd go a part of you hung in the air
a soft constant breeze.
and maybe you'll let me.
maybe you'll string your veins like lights to light my journey
when the cobbled streets are black
and your back in rink-a-dink town
and i'm off getting my wings.
you like to breath air into my dreams,
lifting my balloons, and even though you'll be here in this gray
town you never
made me feel sorry.
sorry that i've got to leave.
and maybe you'll give me your hands too,
so when it's colder than a winter month, i can wrap my fingers in them
and i'll be warm on the inside
too
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC