"donuts" poems
oh honey ****
pen and ink **** star warrior
pretty little manga girl
twinkle wisp
with kung fu throwing stars
and triple steel samurai sword
that tear through others
made of pink taffy
and cherry juice fizz blood
moving like lightening
a flying gladiator
with dripping sweet rice
and tapioca milk shake *******
oh
you would taste so good to drink
out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl
with big blow job star goldfish
and hungry pink ***** lips octopus
drooling
sit on your face suckers
oh, fighter of one-legged midgets
the best part after a fresh ****
victory ****
to go down on them
their loli pop *****
butter ***** beautiful
springing through the top of your skull
cause you can't get enough
oh wow
happy hello kitty
***** plump plops
viscous
before the coup de grâce
as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards
with her little swizzle tongue
goo ga licious
before placing
what's left of their hose like glistening entrails
around her throat like a pearl necklace
only to get strangled with it
by double **** UFO boy
solar ******* hero of the universe
so hard
she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts
out of pucker pie ****
**** banged cross eyed
like little girl manga never felt so good
addicted to cruel
whipped with a hella wet noodle
yes no yes no yes no
yes pleazzz
her big blue marble glass eyes
binocular kaleidoscopes
spring out on the floor
and roll around
turning into all seeing
anti-gravity magnetized
silver pin stripped spaceships
peopled by
evil omni ****** **** *****
screaming through eternity
in search of cosmic
tushi sushi
ogling wiggling ballerina butts
bubble gum for the eyeballs
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
This is a poem about love
and sticking your ***** in a dove.
Getting married in a church
of Satan.
I went to dunkin donuts
to get some ******* donuts.
A black man yelled at me
so loud that it made me ***
So I unzipped my pants
and put my ding-dong on a table
then said "beat that ******
and he started beating himself while smoking a black and mild with a KFC bucket in his arms full of cow turds.
(I HATE ******* POETRY)
Poetry is the language of love.
No wonder it's full of ********
Lust is where it's at
when I finger bang your uncle's grandpa's cat.
Randomness is fun
especially when you do crack.
I still ******* hate poetry.
You can **** my 20 foot purple headed yogurt slinger full of tar.
I am Bill Clinton and I approve this message.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
Come and Look, Come and See,
What is at the Bakery!
Dazzling, Lovely, Amazing too,
Something Special Just for You.
Delicious Cookies, Cakes, and Pies,
Tons of Delicacies Before Your Eyes.
The Scent of Sugar All Around,
Goodies, Donuts, and Breads Abound.
Sweet Tooth Calling, "Give Me More,"
Starts in When You Hit the Door.
Cravings Growing for the Treats,
Have to Have a Load of Sweets.
Absolute Bliss as You Give in,
To that Tempting Sugar Sweet Sin.
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 5:05 PM UTC
Donuts, o donuts,
Wheat Flour Enriched
Soybean,
Palm and Cottonseed Oil Hydrogenated
Vegetable Oil Partially Hydrogenated
Cocoa Processed with Alkali,
Sodium Acid Pyrophosphate
Sodium Aluminum Phosphate
Aluminum Sulfate
Salt, Dextrose, Soy Lecithin,
Guar Gum, Cellulose Gum, Tapioca Dextrin,
Corn Dextrins, Mono Diglycerides,
Citric Acid, Enzymes,
Natural & Artificial colors & flavors
Sorbic Acid and Sodium Propionate
and Potassium Sorbate
To Retain Freshness:
Eat 'em up yum.
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 2:08 PM UTC
Donuts, donuts, donuts, donuts,
donuts, donuts, donuts, donuts,
donuts, donuts, donuts, donuts,
donuts, donuts, donuts, donuts,
donuts, donuts, donuts, donuts,
donuts, donuts, donuts, donuts.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
Danny drops his broad bottom
back on the seat
beside his wife
at the food court
with 3 donuts for himself
each soaked in oil and fat
and each thick with white sugar coat
*“Danny, why do you eat this stuff…?
That’s all fat, three donuts of fat,”*
moans his wife
“Not really,” says Danny to his wife
who eats lettuce and carrot
and who looks like a knitting needle
*“Fastfood donuts are healthy;
look at the air in the middle -
but no doubt
one has to get through rest of the donut
for sure
but the air in the middle
is pure life-giving health
when one gets there”*
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
Oh my God
Yes
There it is
A signal of hope
For all hungry travelers
Those golden arches
Beaming within the night air
It’s enough to make those weak of heart cry
Burst into joyful tears
Open at 2 o’ clock?
They must’ve known we were coming
Thank you, for the all night drive through
Pupils glazed like donuts
Donuts donuts donuts
McDonalds should serve donuts
Back on track
Big mac
Impending heart attack
The pit that is my stomach
Cannot be satisfied
Throw in about
Five McDoubles
Chick nuggets
And fries….
Mountains upon mountains of fries…
Excuse me,
I need to fall asleep now
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 1:43 AM UTC
So I turned 32 today.
Penniless birthday,
almost.
Howling rains
woke me up
and I fell back asleep.
And the cat respected my
birthday.
Did not claw my lips like
my usual feline alarm.
The birthday flowers
in the morning
were vivid.
My mother bought them,
deep red and
deep yellow.
I requested
for birthday lunch
my mother’s
home-cooked burgers
and fries sprinkled with
iodized salt.
And I filled myself up
with them hot and crispy
fries
and didn’t care if they
stayed inside my guts
until 2014.
I never really liked cake.
Opted for a dozen original glazed.
Heavenly donuts.
Two of them tumbled down
the escalators.
The first birthday flaw.
Like a bleep in the
grand scheme of
birthday things.
I brought them to a Greek
restaurant.
My mom and dad
and two sisters.
Not really hungry.
Just hungry
for a different taste.
The salad had candied
walnuts among the greens
and the reds.
Progressive Greece.
Then a classic lamb dish.
Classic Greece.
And the waiters
in stuffy white
bellowed a birthday
greeting, dropping the “h”
from my name.
Belted out a non-Grecian
birthday song.
No Grecian dance.
But they gave me
an ice cream treat.
Lighted a solitary
blue candle, which
balanced on the semi-liquid
hills of vanilla, caramel and
walnuts.
The small ice cream hills
illuminated by
the dancing
birthday light.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:40 AM UTC
When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of 4 am’s eating donuts on the bus,
Piled in big heaps to conserve warmth,
Not caring who we were laying on.
I think of lips on fire,
Sectionals that drag on and on in
The scorching sun, and staying
At attention for longer than you can bear.
I think of impossibly quick changes into uniforms,
Asking your friends to zip you up,
Band moms wiping off bibbers and shoes,
And when you’re all ready, realizing you didn’t put on your mic.
I think of falling on turf during
25 mph wind gusts, hearing the hail smash your instrument,
Not being able to feel your face,
But knowing you have to play on just the same.
I think of eating at weird times,
Breakfast at 4 am, lunch at 10 am, and supper at 10 pm,
But knowing that when you get you get a chance to eat,
The band dads have got you covered.
I think of laughing so hard on the bus
You’re crying, sobbing even, sprawled across
Your best friends, and you think you’ll never calm down
Enough to ever play your instrument again.
I think of the drum majors’ voices yelling
LEFT LEFT LEFT
Over and over again until the freshmen finally understand.
There’s always that one that never does.
I think of the moment of utter agony
Before they announce the last place in your class,
And you’re squeezing your eyes shut, praying
That at the very least, you won’t be last.
I think of that moment of utter relief
After you hear the last place in your class,
And it’s not you, and your prayers have been answered
That at the very least, you were not last.
I think of the last competition of the season,
When the seniors are bawling and it seems like
Your entire world is crashing down,
And nothing will ever be right again.
This poem could go on forever,
But finally: finally.
When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of that triumphant moment right
As your show ends for the last time,
That last horns down,
And you know you’ve given it your all,
And no matter what your score is,
You feel in your heart that you have put everything
You have out there,
All the music, the drill, the blood, sweat and tears,
Out there on that football field.
And that moment, you can get no where else, but
Marching band.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
Fear hurts.
No matter how happy I am, there is always fear.
When it’s dark at night, there is fear.
Fear crawls underneath the blanket with your beating heart.
When you eat an ice cream cone, there is fear.
Fear slides onto your tongue, along with the sweet, frozen cream, and makes its way down your throat.
When you squeeze a pillow, fear will be there,
refusing to exit your mind.
Fear, why won’t you exit my mind?
It never leaves me..
But fear is what keeps you going everyday.
When you climb a great pine tree,
you feel glad, happy, strong, though never fearless
for fear’s there lurking in the needles right there with you.
When the sweetest pitbull licks your face with it’s oh so soft tongue,
you fear that it will leave you.
When your phone rings,
you fear of who it is.
Fear makes me fearless
When you play, you still fear.
You don’t even know what you fear but
fear is everywhere.
It doesn’t make sense.
Fear doesn’t make sense.
Fear is fear.
When fear comes along
Fear is your best friend
Fear makes me dance.
When you love something,
you fear that it will go away.
You fear of yourself.
You fear of the world.
Fear comes to make life harder,
to make you sad,
to make you scared,
but your heart is full of joy so you just sit at the kitchen table,
eating donuts with a side of fear.
You may love fear, you drink it like it’s coffee,
but you hate fear even more.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
have you ever
sat
and wondered about
the putrid smell
of corpses
and what happens after this--
all types of magical forces?
have you ever
stood
in line for hours
waiting only
to be
insulted by cowards?
I've often
wondered in the morning
over
my donuts glazed
how you can
not talk to me
for several days;
but when you do
it fits like a shoe,
and now just what
are we going to do?
have you heard
sad words
whispered from a lover's lips,
and if so,
did it bring a tearful kiss
or
was it more like
a lustful hiss?
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 6:52 AM UTC
roll a cigarette
and check one more time that we got enough
change to get on the bus
share an orange drink
and thouse powder donuts
it began raining five minuets ago
but we didn't even notice
your hands buried inside my jacket
snuggled up to my neck
i'm looking over your head at the road
we come down
pulling a suitcase and chasing fallen leaves
and here it comes just as you fire that cigarette
im tellin ya its magic, light one and the bus will come
we bundle our butts into the very back seat
of your standard smelly old city bus
and you kiss the tip of my nose
i tickle you
they come and go
mister and misses public and all their friends
but your all i see baby
we get home and first thing you do
is go fix your makeup
LOL baby LOL
i think the cat might be the only other soul awake
within a thousand miles
and you got to look good for the cat
kiss the tip of my nose and ill tickle ya
still got a powder donut left
lets frame this puppy and call it my masterpiece
im gonna try baby
we are gonna be ok
i need hope
i need a future
lets make candles
lets make baby bottles
lets make dust bunnies
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC
You're the wind the blows the treetops
It rustles through my hair
The hand that touches my shoulder
Quietly, you are there.
You're the story left unfinished
A poem left untouched
For 20 years you fought alone
20 years escaped Death's clutch.
For 14 years you held me
Through plays and concerts all
You filled up puzzles and read the books
Alone, you stood so tall.
You told me all the stories
Answered that question many times
Why I never did see Grampa,
Why I never saw you cry.
You showed me all the pictures
Played Santa on Christmas morn'
We made fruit salad on holidays
You've loved me since I was born.
Not once did I say goodbye to you
See you later, kiss goodnight
I'd see you in the morning
Bananas and donuts under the counter light.
You were a genius in your own way
But never flaunted it so
You taught me games I'd not thought of
You loved me more than you could show.
We offered you a guard dog
A cat to spend your days
You never were an animal person
Dependence is not your ways.
You got home from bingo one night
Laid down to rest your head
Your sister woke to call you
Somehow, you weren't out of bed.
From then on you hid your voice from us
Never to be heard again
Tests and cards and flowers, too
Not one, not two- more than ten!
Leading up to then, you'd had enough
Enough for a lifetime, I suppose,
Because one night you took your final breath
Your cheeks lost the color of rose.
I've never been the hugging type,
And I handle sadness on my own
Crying in front of others
Is something I've never been shown.
The next week had been quite tough
But your sister was always there
Your sister, my Nana, the only one
She told us she would always care.
We said goodbye, a final one,
I tried my hardest not to cry
I'd only said goodnight my life
Not once have I said goodbye.
Sometimes I wish we got you the dog
Maybe we'd share another morn'
I love you for the rest of my life,
The one I miss and adore.
It was the night you'd not return
None of us know why
But now we know you're happy
Playing bingo with Grampa in the sky.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
I bought my girls a donut each
To the disgust of the other mothers,
And I watched them **** the sugar from their fingers
And scoop it from their plates to rub it on their lips.
The other kids had half a donut each,
And when they'd finished, they just watched
my daughters lick and chomp and scoop and ****
A whole donut
Because life's too short
And it isn't as much fun
Without the hole.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Walking in a circle is, in the fondest sense, going absolutely nowhere, even though it feels better than walking completely backwards. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I have never even been face to face with you and mine grows weaker and weaker with the length of time between the moments I get to touch you. The strange thing is that, prior to meeting you, I have a hard time describing what it was I was even doing - the storms you have hurled into my quiet life is all I know now, and I never realized just how flimsy my own infrastructure was. I have seeped into the walls you throw dishes in and the floors you roll around on, and I feel everything your fists do equally, if not more. Who knows my body better than you? The places I dip and divide and slope and bend; who has held me down with nothing but words and sweaty silence that lay thick enough for us to cut with butcher knives? My stomach is trained to clench is desperation when your name is mentioned and I am nervous around anyone who shares with you; a picture is worth a thousand words, but your name is worth one million, and you've never spoken mine aloud but I have murmured yours, like a mantra, repeatedly, groaning in the way wounded animals do and trembling with that same fear. I can't count on my fingers how many nights I traded sleep for a reason to talk to you, and all too well do I know how many lifetimes are crammed into the seconds before an anticipated phone call. People might wonder how I even survive when you aren't around, but how many ways can a dog entertain himself when the master is away? Oftentimes, in a state of unwarranted panic, I claw at my clothes as though you are lurking underneath, and only rarely are you there, metaphysically. I am not the only person the rain falls on; I understand that there are plenty of others who are lulled by the charm of someone who knows nature of a human being in the way that otherworldly creatures might, but in this instance I know that everyone is haunted in their own exclusive way, and you are always flickering in the periphery of my blurry vision when my bedroom lights are out.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
shadows cast into clouds of sand as footprints leave their mark
voices so full of fun with not a care in this world
summer sun washed over by the crash of thunder
the sea shouting against the shells to your ears
blue whispery skies feed warmness to the skin
as weeks of a worklife pass to say goodbye
ice cream melted to cheeks as tissue lips from a nan
feed a childs cry
this is what we live for in a world so left behind
donuts sugared a thirst as sticky fingers lay ******
fish from an ocean battered or fried to the best ive ever noshed
sounds of the beach washed over me as grandads snores a snort ..
too much lunchtime pie i guess ..deserving resort
dreams of a past ...dreams of another
football played and dogs all wet scenes from a beach
alive still ...kids gone red
searing sizzles from a sun at its best as rounders run
or frisbee fetched
photo taken a collection booth ..memories made as dreams come true
dreams of a summer
dreams of a summer
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
All of a sudden,
something is aloof
The air becomes stale,
like the bread of sourdough;
you refuse to walk through
the garden overgrown, infested with
insecurities and a plethora of doubt
I believed you to be
a recipe I figured out
I'm left teetering on my toes
as vehemence in me grows
and the mystery within you
is unfortunately never shown
Riddle me your chivalry's
whereabouts as of late
You're good at concealing
all that you're feeling
I remember when you were sweet,
like the aura we would create
like the donuts you brought me;
a dozen sugar-coated holes and
one lone blueberry
My insides have been fried
in a hot mess called love,
and a dozen-sugar coated holes
from you my dear, was
considerably enough
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
that night with no sleep
it rest in my head
with the smell of cigarettes
floating through the air
ladders were placed at a window
we made cookie dough i believe
around midnight the real night began
poems read allowed
with words lingering
far into to the night
out in the cold many cigarettes
smoldered in each hand
i lost count as to how many
after three
on the brink of dawn
i sat with coffee in hand
on top of my cold car roof
waiting for the sun to rise
clever words come to mind
as old acquaintances come
and judge me for sitting
and writing about what i see
after a walk
to clear me thoughts
i decide on donuts
with box in hand i climb
up the ladder to a dear friends room
curl up in bed
there i stay till noon
that sober night is my favorite
to remember
not a thought of sleep
only words carefully written
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
In response to the text: *"who wants to get ********* this weekend?"*
I reply: I'll bring donuts, Gatorade, and Cards Against Humanity.
I tell the girls that the snacks are for them, so they don't get too drunk or hungover.
But really I know myself too well, and I binge when I feel lonely.
Its hard not to feel lonely, when you're the only sober one there.
At the Party:
Never Have I Ever reveals more than I ever thought it would.
I might be the oldest, but I am by no means the most mature.
Things I have never heard of, things I could have never thought of are things of which they speak.
Two donuts are gone.
Their alarms all go off at 10:00 for birth control. They take out their mini purse packs of 30 pills, no bigger than a credit card.
I don't take birth control, because my periods are regular, and well:
Depression+antidepressants+confusion of sexuality= no *** drive at all.
I mean zip, zero, nothing.
Leaving me to be the only ****** of the six girls here.
Three donuts are gone.
Hours ago though, I took my 300mg of Seroquel XR.
I timed it just right.
This time I won't fall asleep hours before everyone else
'Pong' requires drinking so I sit their and watch.
Four donuts are gone
Shots are taken.
I pour more tea into my mug.
Five Donuts are Gone
Drunk face-timing old friends who have moved away results in much yelling, and her hanging up.
I start a new group text where I talk only to myself.
All Donuts are gone
There is no wonder why alcohol and depression don't mix
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
she waits for the bus
feels the fat pooling around the top of her jeans
like drunken donuts
the white milk licking the sweat
off the insides of her thighs
her muffin top
round cheeks
stare back at her in the passing car's windows
reflecting her embarrassment
she stares down at the ground
thinks she'd rather starve than be fat
tears pressing at the corners of her eyes
the bus comes
her stomach growls
she gets on the bus
decides to order a pizza when she gets home
tells herself
she's had a hard day
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
... on the other side :P
Money don't grow any greener
The mean streets are getting meaner
Come and get me pretty please
When you find some grow on trees!
Wake up! Smell the Dunkin Donuts!
We're in the Twilight Zone
like robots...
Every cloud is silver lined
Even one that's in your mind
And when you find
fate's shut the door
You'll find a hatchway...
... in the floor!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/16/2015
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
to be honest -
lots of penises
lots of them
worked out sort of
stepped on a jellyfish
stabbed myself on a broken mirror
by accident
ate a lot of donuts
pet a dog
hung out with cats
hung out with good people
a few of them
hung out with bad people
lots of them
ran away from a boyfriend
complained about nothing
got a lappytoppy finally
complained about trump
cut my hair and its still annoying
me with its definition
fell in love with a girl
then immediately regretted it
that sort of stuff
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
When I enter a bakery,
I gaze at the variety ,
Of fresh baked cake,
And cookie dough ,
Ready to bake,
I smell the tempting flavors of donuts,
And the wide range of cookies with nut,
I glance at the crossiant,
Something I gravely want,
I order a coffee,
And a crossiant,
To satisfy me,
I taste the luscious buttery bread,
And relish the spread,
Enjoying without worry,
Well this is the,
Adventure of a bakery
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC
you see i am very very hungry, so much in fact
i burp very weirdly, yeah i feel so weird
i burp loud and i burp soft when i have a nice cream bun or a nice beef nachos
and i feel like a nice packet of chocolate biscuits
ya know to have with my coca cola
i was watching ellen degenerous and i felt like eating the pie that went in the contestants face
yeah i feel like a bag of popcorn as well as choctop at the movies
because my mouth is burping very weirdly
i don’t want to have this burping feeling
i feel like a strawberry milk and i am fighting myself saying, no, i don’t need it
the strawberry milk says yes, i do, but i don’t want a strawberry milk, it’ll just make me fat
i wanna lose weight but the burping is making me want food, i want a nice chocolate bar
and i want a bag of marshmallows, i want to have more energy
so i can be a cool person, that i am,
i know the burping really is bugging me
and i do want it to stop, STOP, making me feel this way, i want to an artist and a writer and not an eater
please leave me alone strawberry milk and leave me alone chocolate biscuits, i don’t want to eat you
i feel like a chocolate biscuit, but then i say, i will grow fat, ya know keep the fat on me
i don’t want to be fat, i want to lose weight, so leave me alone ya ****** strawberry milk and coke
i want to feel fit in my mind, so i can write and be creative
please leave me alone, junk food, i don’t want to eat you
but the junk food gets in my mind and makes me smell the nice chocolate
i know coke used to be a medicine, but i don’t wanna drink ya
i like to have a healthy lifestyle, and i want to lose this burping because
it’s the medication making me wanna eat, like donuts and vanilla slices and cream buns
and dewok chinese stir fry’s and chocolate biscuits and chocolate desserts and strawberry milk
and a large bottle of coca cola, as my medicine, I DON’T WANT THAT
i had a garden salad for lunch as well as a few glasses of water
i hate being fat, so that means at 2-30 pm, i will go for another walk, whether i feel like it or not
because i must get rid of all this food from my body, so i don’t get diabetes
so if you feel fat, because you eat too much food, push yourself into walking
and walk a regular pace, so you don’t feel sluggish
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
So numb
and heavy,
eyelids flutter shut
turmoil within my gut
peach scented tea
howling for me,
wafting my way
all thanks to you
Breakfast is important
that you've taught me;
It vitalizes me, your
favorite kind of day
thank you dear for coming my way
I appreciate this sweet gesture,
you are one too kind;
won't you bring me donuts every day?
For you, I don't mind
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 10:53 PM UTC