"ejaculation" poems
being a poet is not planned
**~for Gabriella Garcia~
~~
*a sixteen old soul says she understands,
being a poet is not planned,
forcing an old mans re-collection of the first time,
he made love to a virginal white
papyrus with muscles trembling,
body bent, chest bursting a rockets red glaring,
eyes marking the sheets with salty drip spots
what possessed the wrist veins
to wrest a cheap ballpoint pen to transfuse pain,
in a semaphore of uncoded ink blotches,
what was he thinking
was he thinking?
that it was an ejection
that it was an ***********
that it was a tribulation expiation
that it was a tribute explanation?
that it was an injection
that it was a circumspection inspection
that it was a circumscision surgery of emotional complexion
excising an infection with a written genuflection?
try, but no might, the first is subsumed
by the thousands that followed dutifully
though his one poem flawless, expertly recalled,
it will always be the next,
and unplanned just like this one too
who anointed his brow, the hair and forehead,
with oil pure, dripping down onto, into his cut cain marker,
who is not answering a query relentless
is this his plan, his appointment,
is this his flawed excellence,
is this his imperfect penance perpetual?
knowing well and full
now
the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloraturas*
~~
upon this he reflects,
praying that
god protect the
young poets
from planning
______________
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2893127/unplanned
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 1:27 PM UTC
WOMEN
I cast you out for pandering your ***
WOMEN
You are shameful
On you
I gift this hex:
*If you need to be the object of manly gratification
If you have no interest in the freedom or the liberation
Then your life will now be governed by the exploitation
A vessel pure and simple for man’s ***********
WOMEN
You are worthless
**** upon my shoe
Read between the lines my friend
Figure out the clue
For it is in here somewhere
Deep within this write
Nothing's ever as it seems
Nothing's black and white
WOMEN
Does a bloke walk round?
With his ***** hanging out?
Does he emphasize his testicles?
Does he bandy it about?
I think you know the answer
Just stop and use that brain
Then maybe in the future
Equality will rightly be reclaimed
But all the time you flaunt your ****
****** you ***** in their face
You, my friend
To the sisterhood
**Are a ******* skanky **** disgrace**
Wake up and smell the Costa
For conditioning is wrong
You need to understand
You cause The Cause to be prolonged
This is my stand
I hold my own
I’m never fazed
By stick nor stone
For I know deep within my heart
The value of my worth
I will never sell my principles
For merriment or mirth
**So … please …. just take a moment
To digest
The words within this write
Unharness faux benevolent blinkers
Because this is our absolute pre-emptive right**
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 4:31 AM UTC
I am utterly convinced
that my spirit is a ten-cent *****
letting any passing nemesis
**** it in the mind
with almost no tension.
It must enjoy the sensation
as its host clearly shows
in the streams of tears
that flow through the eyes,
the spirit's ***********
It must moisten its knickers
at the viewing of torture,
as its host sits in an icy stupor,
with the times of grotesque
spectacle-sobs on tile flooring,
nicks on the wrist, what have you-
the only times of breathing.
My spirit must have stolen all the
charm it takes to captivate
the enemy into arousal,
as the host stumbles awkwardly in
public, pushing all potentials away
with vehemence and convincing itself
of its inferior quality to
even the vermin of the sewer.
My spirit has made me the loathing host
to the parasite of my own being,
my mind the main casualty,
ridden with **** from villainy both
outer and inner, decay from traumas
more persuasive than the tongue
of Casanova.
I hope it's happy.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
/ *oh no no no... you don't get a jew artefact at this point, when the play of words comes between the son and the mother... no no no... you're target; she should be a **** a stripper, a ***** but when you do what this, "englishman" did? undermining the concept of personal property? ownership? his property infringes on your property, and somehow: my, yours, our's doesn't compute... i'm ******* craving to **** my neighbour... because all i have left to lose is... frothing at the mouth.*
at a supermarket:
within the confines
of a cashier:
- 'is this your typical
friday night?'
say it plain, chubby...
**** it: more cushion
for the pushin'...
sunglasses at 6am?
a reply:
- 'it could be'
- 'if you were part of it'
- 'what?'
i'd love to fiddle with excesses
of porky...
migrant crisis?
more like a ***** cricis...
import black ****
given the white boy lay low...
it's not even funny,
i find it funny attempting
to whistle...
which i can't,
given that i found laughter...
just don't come between me
and mt "neighbour":
cos i'll **** the ******* ****
and "he's" watching me?
sorry:
i'll **** the ******* ****
fuck-face-tard!
no, i will;
i can't conceive retaining
the anglophone aspect of comedy
within the confines
of the monologue,
with a cabaret....
i'll **** him...
next time we exfoliates
speaking to my mother,
and not... looking
into my eyes...
"englishman": spew!
you! now! clean up this
***********
******* english!
like you bred a people,
gesticulating with
a hand gesture...
new yankies...
britain: home,
of the the wankies.
p.s.
no... private property contra
private property
within this ****** vogue...
i seriouslly will throw
a **** into his garden,
and say...
not enough fox hunting,
d'uh!
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
The play is written to be staged in a pub or a large cave like yurt in Cardiff. Its action and dialogue provides characterisation, with sound and lighting being used to establish context. The setting a darkened pub corner that is modelled on The Bunch of Grapes in Pontypridd. There are only 6 characters, five speak in haiku-ed verse with the exception of the Drunk who acts as my 'Greek Chorus'.
- Hand-in-hand she enters to **** her thumb in a corner
- Chocolate ice cream soda demanded from Daddy
- Joking banter ceased slowly as the regulars all begin to quaff their brown pints
“Balll uut eass swept -
Chimrrrrr, Chiirriica,
war is never won”
- Church quiet, the village pub listened lips clamped tears swelling
“ ***** cut swapped with eyes -
Chimerica, Chimerica,
war is never won”
- The cornered hero of two Afghanistan tours is seen regressing into childhood**
The set darkens slowly then after 30 seconds a spotlit conversation in lines and stanzas begins.
Haiku and tanka that inspired the coming play include:
*********** -
thoughts sought, taught and wrought,
testosterones
Fighting aggressive games,
Afghanistan camouflage
Globalism and War -
cloned greedy conspiracy,
that third tower
Titled selfish-self-grandiose,
deliver warring terror
Springs cut Irises -
dripping vital red not purple,
far from my window*
.
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 11:11 AM UTC
I’ve summed up the equation for my isolation
It's People who look up, look down, left and right
Desperate for information
We never looked inside for much needed inspiration
Instead,
We lead a life of impulsive behavior mixed with preoccupation for our own reputation
I've lost toleration for the weak minded population
Individual thoughts slowly decay and eventually cut off circulation
Sending thoughts on permanent vacation, worthy of respiration, ideas now suffer suffocation
If this is my "generation"
I’d rather live in hibernation
You can take this as retaliation
I just don’t understand why we seek gratification for having no imagination?
I swear,
It’s like the world around me is nothing more Than telecommunication
Different voices yet the same conversation
Broad interpretation leaves room for destructive **********
Shedding uniqueness for trendy consolidation
**Who the **** do you think you are? a star?**
You're no constellation
You expel no illumination
Your personality is a narrow cultivation of
Seedy corporation,
Media publication,
And lack of moral stabilization
Let me give you clarification
Meditation is my detonation
Put words in your mouth before you die of starvation
We all have a fixation on giving into temptation
Putting ourselves in situations were
Passion is stimulation,
Trust is manipulation and
Love is ***********
Pour out your heartache in perspiration
After *********** we expect a standing ovation
*** is nothing more than sensation*
....are we lost beyond the point of navigation?
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 12:35 AM UTC
*********** -
thoughts sought, taught and wrought,
aggressive games.
Fighting clubbing sick,
Afghanistan camouflage.
.
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 8:49 AM UTC
Tantalus tartarus tortures through time tremendous
Amber ambition aback at arousal
Menacing mandibles munch my member
Eating eruptions eeriest ***********
Docile delusional damp dame do digest
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 5:37 AM UTC
Stomach pains directly connected to the interwoven circuits that are
Wondering, hoping.
Stopping at blind corners
Questioning the soul...
A potion of acid and cactus forms
Transformative contributions.
Catching up because you woke up to late.
Now it's to late; so late that your building a statue to remember the good you see in others.
The universe is penetrating everything at the same time it's being penetrated while we all wonder what is happening?
What does this all mean?
Why are we here?
Everything is ***** and a ****** everyone is ******* everyone and everything and everyone and everything is being ****** at the same time...
Nobody gets it while the soul is in the body.
By the time the true soul leaves the said body you fools will build a statue of this body that no longer has a soul.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
~
Bala^ comments:
"alignment - any which way one can if possible to make
****** and *********** simultaneously happen,
without any best position plan"
~
*may all the gods bless you, Bala,
for waking me at 4:33 with this poetic induction
coaxed from my spinal fluid sanity
with perfected clarity
my own circadian rhythm masters internal,
the most reliably unreliable human container technology teachers,
semi-skilled in the entrainment arts for this impoverished body mine,
deem it appropriate that early morn messages of
propitious possibility be greeted immediately
entrapped, awaken me at four AM with great glee,
because these elusives^^ know exactly what stirs
this being's cochlear cockles into birthing a
poetic cookie ******** ***********
your message meme provoking, inducing,
be honest man - simply seducing, my within
by your teasing words from without*
"without any best position plan"
*not to confuse the mere appearance of a routine
as worthy of the entitlement of "plan,"
much as the poem's own vanity chooses it own alignment
the relationship, the relativity -
always the
flexing flummoxing freaking insatiable pleasuring
when your thrusting unplanned message
****** and bests my brain,
releasing a fully formed, instantaneous parrying poem
from an aroused, passing, unsanitized, second of sanity
for no better *** than this...
as per the unplan?
this tissued life,
this in and out
of punching and counterpunching continuous,
but rarely contiguous,
for we are never aligned for more than a moment,
the moment that almost always goes unnoticed,
for the heart's ***** tissues,
are mostly torn by how life
uses us roughly
so here is an aligned confession fecundity
this poetry gig, my salve,
to tenderize the daily redness,
the irritation residual of having no plan
however these fingerprints decided for you,
to present, upon completion,
this soft-spoken loud ***********
a peaking, not a leaking,
** ** ** - a screaming
hallelujah, i'm aligned!
the man found albeit briefly
a beat, a plan and its verbal, herbal,
best solution
may all the gods bless you, Bala,
for waking me at 4:33 with this poetic induction
coaxed from my spinal fluid sanity
with perfected clarity
the man and his plan, for a mega-second
his best,
unplanned but got and given,
in poetic planetary alignment
positioned
as are you and I -
the thousands of miles of distance tween us
as you read this
collage collapse
into a singular synapse
of ****** and ***********
hallelujah, we are aligned!
~
**disclaimer:
anything you say to me, can and will be used
for a poem**
~
5:55am
April 1, 2017
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
They say that if you're not doping you're no-hoping
but without it I can say that I'm more than coping
maybe sometimes I might take a Polska beer
be careful - even that might make you feel queer
I tried hash but then started running short of cash
when you suddenly need something you make a mad dash
there's always speed, coke and amphetamine
but if you don't surface, you'll know what I mean
You just can't beat a decent ***********
to give you good head and instant elation
I took all these aids and put them in the bin
be sensible and don't even try to begin
If I want ecstasy - then I'll just make love
it's the best feeling from heaven above
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
alarm
dogmatical snakebird dictator
**** rooster of electro maniacal damnation
wake
goober eyed ithyphallic mortal yahoo yawns
glacier shuffle to Midas’ bowl
brush
minty hairy pasty headed ********
seafoam ***** on white vanity beaches
shave
deceitful murderous metal cartel scraping
dead shrubs from yesterday’s winter
breakfast
egg flour chalk smack
guzzling bean kerosene
work
batshit bureaucratic badgers bludgeon
muktuk hamsters lubricating wheels of fortune
lunch
butcher’s dead friend between greasy toasted cement
harlot’s heavenly tomato mating cabbage cousin
work
taradiddle of martyrs at jargon’s temple blather
babble, bumble - copulation without ***********
dinner
unicorn steaks, butterfly sauté, and
leprechaun fingers, a side of manslaughter dolphin
sleep
a felon’s holiday
repeat
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
I think some R here
For Adulation
Not merily
Concocked Expajulation
But Rather 2
Find Some Praise
2 Their Creations
2 fullfill
Some Sensation
That Their TIME
Spent With ***********
Was Something MORE
Then Emancupation
4 ALL of U
I GIVE
adulation
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 1:55 AM UTC
From all around
They come crawling like crease on the bed sheet
Deeply plunged in me, I
Have held a corner a bit higher with my teeth
I should lift my self too
But my abdomen is heavy
And navel is tied
---
After shower
It is ecstatic to burst into flames
Long hairs falling on the ear
Feels like roots in the head
You can fall out if you shake it off
You are constantly transforming
**** rug, beats etc. etc.
---
Now you are expert
In how to walk on water with your nose closed
It is dangerous to keep your foot in the ring
Hoping for walls made out of flammable dust
There is spark in the snap of fingers
Dark cold in the chest
Speed is like snail
Slowly slowly
*********** is natural
---
After the morning yawn
Everywhere falls very delicate leaves
I want to treasure them
I'll put them under my pillow
Tiring courting of night is sitting beside
At the end i counted total spinal vertebra,
Total was 22
Still i needed help to wrap my leg around
'Limitless' saying waves you up on high oscillation
Loneliness is blissful
Silence is for you to fill
You are allowed to catch your breath if you can
---
You have to loose width of your chest
In attempts to be singular
There is ally full of black color
Red at twilight
Glowing silver at midnight
They come to see, from far countries
And some princess dips her legs in
You start dripping from her heel
Just like a sweat
You have to leave your blackness on her body
Cause only white sweat is allowed here
She gives you a mesmerizing kiss
You keep unfolding it
With both your hands between legs
Both legs are in north and south
And navel
Navel is already tied.
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 12:34 AM UTC
“My poems are often wiser than me, lean into a more keen universe of understanding.” Joy Harjo
<•>
instant recognition moment, Joy, your words,
(despite the kitchen cooking clanging chatter next door),
spilling into the quiet space of my thanksgiving brain
my wiser poems are insights inscribed inside,
exposed and released all in their own good time,
they, always blogging, leaning out to escape,
asking the Governor for clemency, early release
poems that are my self-defensive explicit explanations,
excuses, convoluted ratinocations, prosecutorial accusations, leveled by my disbelieving, revealing, sworn to silence
not-to-be-trusted-confessor-me against the indefensible
nobody likes a wise guy,
but out they come, under the covers, dem poems
of nighttime darkness, spilling beans and silent screams,
asking you if we remember that time when we...
yes, we.
but writ in the first person personal,
in words summoned from his own ****** deep darkness?
better in plain english when sharing shadings of universal,
and you leaning in on me from within,
presence of pressure, a plaintive palliative wailing,
ejecting an *********** of joy
when “please release us” is honored with our
collective wisdom
<•>
11/24/17
9:07am
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
How ironic to not seek the tools yet drool on them
To see the instruments and break down like a phlegm
How naïve of us to use the gym as an excuse
To prolong it, as if it were drug use
Some call it dopamine others call it clarity
Most see an opening to showcase their barbarity
Called less of a man to those "better off"
Called less of a woman to those showing pictures with their sweater off
Lust driving companies to show children compromised
We see these plaything while revenue boosts the enterprise
Anime, video games, novels and Tv
Nothing seems too extreme for these mediums
Beheading, shredding, **** and made "Dream-like"
Topics have been explored beyond their tedium
**** is accessible and Ai makes your dream man
Merge yourself with your idol beyond the imagination of a regular Stan
Be praised for wearing Japanese *********** and condoning said behavior
Treat somebodies feet pics like your very own savior
The beast wins not with wit, but with a pattern
To catch us in the act frozen still like Saturn
Internet connections show us the milky way
And your hands remain adamant, your mind filthy
The beasts doesn't care of November, nor valentines or about your crush
It waits to clamp you, and turn you into dust
Too ashamed to seek humanity, too far gone to find morality
Repeated until insanity, Your mouth blurting profanities
And yet we blame the beast when our relationships end or we cant break a ***** habit
Then try to pray to catch up to the Sabbath
Why Lie to the beast and to ourselves?
To those who use their hands or run to cheap hotels
Is *********** more worthwhile than redemption?
The beast is with me as I type this, judging my every move
It laughs, uses slurs and denying my attempts to improve
It lives in you, no matter how content you are with your sexuality
And does its all to destroy your Mentality
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 8:41 AM UTC
Then, There were tears,
But they came too soon.
The problem is, we feel too much.
Let's find something to numb.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 1:22 PM UTC
I was like the jungle king,
She was like the jungle queen,
She was running ****
Except wearing those flowers,
And I was wearing the waves,
That kissed me otherwise ****
All those strange creatures on the beach,
They all ignored us for burning together,
Burning for sin,
Craving for sin,
Like the reptiles being swallowed by their dens,
The **** of a man,
Kissing the pit of a woman,
The evolution of thirst,
The *********** of burst,
Everything protected by the transparent curtains of water.
She was like the jungle queen,
I was like the jungle king,
I was ******* her crude,
Except my censored spermatozoon blushing out,
And she was nowhere to consume,
My sapid feelings in her faked frame.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 3:38 AM UTC
a womb. ***** an egg. curiosity. a man and woman that love each other. a man and woman that don’t know each other. a man and woman that kind of like each other but don’t want anything serious.
stupidity. a ripped ****** a missed birth control pill. bad fortune. good fortune. an in the moment decision. a premeditated decision. ***
********** ******* pulling out. pre-ejaculation.
old flames. new sparks. excitement in the private parts.
addiction. miscommunication. needing something to feel important. to have a purpose.
mothers and fathers. crack addicts and coke heads. teenagers.
impatience. anticipation. guilt for causing blue *****
**** accidents. mistakes.
true love.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
Good And Bad
It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
hope you're ready,
for a whole new set of rhymes.
Met a girl, name was Sue,
she got me hard, then left my ***** blue.
Cooked me a huge steak, with a side of carrots,
took a bite and out came lots of maggots.
Getting ready for a hot date,
guess not coming, being two hours late.
Having your kids say I love you,
then telling them, the plans fell through.
Cuddling with your favorite boy or girl,
then on your face they start to hurl.
Driving and singing a cool *** song,
getting pulled over and they find your ****
Hope to get lucky with all this flirtation,
then get naked and have premature ***********
Bottom of the ninth and winning by two,
making an error and they score a few.
Talking a shower that's nice and hot,
only to find a peeper, your friend Scott.
Writing the great American novel,
but you have to rewrite, you forgot a vowel.
Sitting, relaxing having a cold beer,
all alone, friends just slowly disappear.
Buying a new tv with high definition,
two days later you lose your vision.
Having a car that's fully loaded,
wiring recall, then it exploded.
Future being so bright,
then darkness blocks your sight.
Waking up and it's hot and sunny,
can't go out with no **** money.
Enjoying the indoors, with air condition,
ankle bracelet and still on probation.
Good and bad things will always be there,
it's all in how you mentally prepare.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
i write from a dark crotch
of the unthinkable
and hot breath
to crucify and feed
with my ****
red ink **** pen
inside you
i'm a bathing delirium
chanting
a bloodletting poem
in sonorous
vampire hieroglyphics
that boils
and exquisite liqueur
oiled and drunk with her moans
she
a dropped fruit panting
Barbie tied up
waiting for a tower of *****
heals over head
a stretched flower
every hole an open mouth
just asking for it
a **** can be sad music
like a shower cap with a dead head
especially in the web of a dream
that leaves your whole body
a hissing ***********
*****
she she
poodled up
improbable modernist
on the verge
of awareness
with a dim eye
drooling for
scapula's torment
a ghastly sacrifice
beast up her gut
a dire mental construct
a curse of pain
for pleasure
reborn of shadows
yet a banana shimmer's
like a smoldering door ***
her name
seen
in the mists of Venus
like a Siren of sparkles
a sprawling tangle
and bright eyes blue
in a molten hold
broken and healed
churning blood red moons
convulsing a *** blizzard
bed of rain
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 9:58 AM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC