"escorted" poems
‘tis but a thing she does
The female assassin
They say that poison is her weapon… maybe on occasion
But that is a level she’s surpassing
You see, what they fail to understand is that she doesn't take lives for vengeance
‘tis but a profession
The beautiful, tantalizing female killer
Her male victim’s obsession
One minute she’s a runway model… with her devilishly sinful grin
A smile so engrossingly enticing… full, red lips that cut across her face playfully
Against her flawlessly peaceful skin
One word for that…’killer’
Forbidden pleasures… blissful sin
She’s taken out big names… maybe even one or two heads of state
To dinners she’s escorted these men… and later on left them in their deadest state
She walks through the front door, but when leaving she can scale windows
Agility is her forte… ‘Man killer’ she is
The black widow…
In a red dress
You may be reading this thinking you can never fall prey to her seductive tentacles
‘tis an argument I do not even wish to get into
I digress.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
On a summer morning,
Monkey had awoken early,
His eyes all sleepy,
And his hair wildly curly.
Swoosh,
He opened the door,
He had to use his mouth,
Because his tail was way too sore.
Slam,
Monkey shut the door behind him,
His friend Panda,
Was called hungry, hungry Jim.
Monkey was off to work,
His tail dragging on the floor,
He was sure to be back in time,
To feed his family of four.
Although monkey was guilty,
He missed work twice,
Monkey was confidently sure,
His boss would be all nice.
Monkey had walked to the glass,
It said no dogs allowed,
For sure he was a monkey,
He walked in and proudly bowed.
His boss said he had to leave,
For he was not a monkey,
But monkey had explained,
He was very chunky.
The boss escorted his out,
Angry as could be,
For sure he was a monkey,
Can’t his work boss see?
He decided to go food shopping,
At the nearest grocery store,
He wanted to get home quickly,
So his family wouldn’t be that poor.
Monkey walked to the grocery store,
His feet were aching,
It was 10 miles away,
This was a big risk that he was taking.
Monkey got there very fast,
Quick as in running,
It said only monkeys allowed,
Wow that sign was stunning!
Monkey had barged in,
All the monkeys were looking at him,
He was told to get out,
So then he visited his old friend,
Hungry, hungry Jim.
When monkey had arrived,
Jim had told him he was a dog,
So Monkey left ashamed,
In the new deep fog.
Monkey had decided to go home,
And Comfort his 3 young ones,
He’d see his wife,
Oh, he loved them all a ton.
Hungry, Hungry Jim smiled,
As if he was really, really bad,
He decided not to eat him today,
He saw him so sad.
Monkey’s house
Was just around the corner,
It was a pretty color white,
But most of the time,
There was not much light.
He had opened his house door,
So lonely and ashamed,
He was a monkey,
He had claimed.
Monkey flickered on the light,
Nobody was there,
His wife and kids left him a note,
“You are a dog, we could not bear”.
Monkey was so depressed now,
He walked to hungry, hungry Jim’s house
He had tiptoed in,
And was as quiet as a mouse.
Jim had caught him,
And asked why he was not home,
Monkey had explained,
His house is just a comb.
Monkey said his family had left him,
Because he was a dog,
They think I don’t belong,
And am just a plain old hog.
All of a sudden,
The panda ate him whole,
And the only thing that was left,
Was his sad little soul.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
On a summer morning,
Monkey had awoken early,
His eyes all sleepy,
And his hair wildly curly.
Swoosh,
He opened the door,
He had to use his mouth,
Because his tail was way too sore.
Slam,
Monkey shut the door behind him,
His friend Panda,
Was called hungry, hungry Jim.
Monkey was off to work,
His tail dragging on the floor,
He was sure to be back in time,
To feed his family of four.
Although monkey was guilty,
He missed work twice,
Monkey was confidently sure,
His boss would be all nice.
Monkey had walked to the glass,
It said no dogs allowed,
For sure he was a monkey,
He walked in and proudly bowed.
His boss said he had to leave,
For he was not a monkey,
But monkey had explained,
He was very chunky.
The boss escorted his out,
Angry as could be,
For sure he was a monkey,
Can’t his work boss see?
He decided to go food shopping,
At the nearest grocery store,
He wanted to get home quickly,
So his family wouldn’t be that poor.
Monkey walked to the grocery store,
His feet were aching,
It was 10 miles away,
This was a big risk that he was taking.
Monkey got there very fast,
Quick as in running,
It said only monkeys allowed,
Wow that sign was stunning!
Monkey had barged in,
All the monkeys were looking at him,
He was told to get out,
So then he visited his old friend,
Hungry, hungry Jim.
When monkey had arrived,
Jim had told him he was a dog,
So Monkey left ashamed,
In the new deep fog.
Monkey had decided to go home,
And Comfort his 3 young ones,
He’d see his wife,
Oh, he loved them all a ton.
Hungry, Hungry Jim smiled,
As if he was really, really bad,
He decided not to eat him today,
He saw him so sad.
Monkey’s house
Was just around the corner,
It was a pretty color white,
But most of the time,
There was not much light.
He had opened his house door,
So lonely and ashamed,
He was a monkey,
He had claimed.
Monkey flickered on the light,
Nobody was there,
His wife and kids left him a note,
“You are a dog, we could not bear”.
Monkey was so depressed now,
He walked to hungry, hungry Jim’s house
He had tiptoed in,
And was as quiet as a mouse.
Jim had caught him,
And asked why he was not home,
Monkey had explained,
His house is just a comb.
Monkey said his family had left him,
Because he was a dog,
They think I don’t belong,
And am just a plain old hog.
All of a sudden,
The panda ate him whole,
And the only thing that was left,
Was his sad little soul.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
From brown eyes to green, the date began
I extend my hand to invite a handshake
We both exchange an “It’s nice to meet you”
We are escorted to our table
Chosen at random by our server, but perfectly selected
For the spot offers a phenomenal view of the coniferous trees below
And the majestic mountains of the North Shore
Our eyes meet again
From brown eyes to green
We sit and start conversing
You are stunningly dressed and I cannot take my eyes off you
Your eyes are locked into mine
You must be really into me just as I am into you
Our server interrupts, we place our orders
Your every move makes my heart flutter,
From how you flip the pages of the menu
To how you rest your elbow on the table with your hand on your chin,
Smiling sweetly at me
I’m having an amazing time
You tell me you are too
Dinner goes by in a flash, the sun has fully set
We drive off through the winding road and into the city traffic
I haven’t kissed you yet
But I want to
After umpteen intersections and two cities
We arrive at your apartment
I walk you to your door
I turn to face you
From brown eyes to green
I lean in for the kiss
A quick gentle one
I wish you a good night
But you want more...
From brown eyes to green
You lean in and kiss me with fervor and passion
You ask me if I want to come in, but I’m hesitant to answer
From green eyes to brown
Your intense, desire-filled gaze pushes me to say yes
Another episode to the evening begins..
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
On a summer morning,
Monkey had awoken early,
His eyes all sleepy,
And his hair wildly curly.
Swoosh,
He opened the door,
He had to use his mouth,
Because his tail was way too sore.
Slam,
Monkey shut the door behind him,
His friend Panda,
Was called hungry, hungry Jim.
Monkey was off to work,
His tail dragging on the floor,
He was sure to be back in time,
To feed his family of four.
Although monkey was guilty,
He missed work twice,
Monkey was confidently sure,
His boss would be all nice.
Monkey had walked to the glass,
It said no dogs allowed,
For sure he was a monkey,
He walked in and proudly bowed.
His boss said he had to leave,
For he was not a monkey,
But monkey had explained,
He was very chunky.
The boss escorted his out,
Angry as could be,
For sure he was a monkey,
Can’t his work boss see?
He decided to go food shopping,
At the nearest grocery store,
He wanted to get home quickly,
So his family wouldn’t be that poor.
Monkey walked to the grocery store,
His feet were aching,
It was 10 miles away,
This was a big risk that he was taking.
Monkey got there very fast,
Quick as in running,
It said only monkeys allowed,
Wow that sign was stunning!
Monkey had barged in,
All the monkeys were looking at him,
He was told to get out,
So then he visited his old friend,
Hungry, hungry Jim.
When monkey had arrived,
Jim had told him he was a dog,
So Monkey left ashamed,
In the new deep fog.
Monkey had decided to go home,
And Comfort his 3 young ones,
He’d see his wife,
Oh, he loved them all a ton.
Hungry, Hungry Jim smiled,
As if he was really, really bad,
He decided not to eat him today,
He saw him so sad.
Monkey’s house
Was just around the corner,
It was a pretty color white,
But most of the time,
There was not much light.
He had opened his house door,
So lonely and ashamed,
He was a monkey,
He had claimed.
Monkey flickered on the light,
Nobody was there,
His wife and kids left him a note,
“You are a dog, we could not bear”.
Monkey was so depressed now,
He walked to hungry, hungry Jim’s house
He had tiptoed in,
And was as quiet as a mouse.
Jim had caught him,
And asked why he was not home,
Monkey had explained,
His house is just a comb.
Monkey said his family had left him,
Because he was a dog,
They think I don’t belong,
And am just a plain old hog.
All of a sudden,
The panda ate him whole,
And the only thing that was left,
Was his sad little soul.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
On a summer morning,
Monkey had awoken early,
His eyes all sleepy,
And his hair wildly curly.
Swoosh,
He opened the door,
He had to use his mouth,
Because his tail was way too sore.
Slam,
Monkey shut the door behind him,
His friend Panda,
Was called hungry, hungry Jim.
Monkey was off to work,
His tail dragging on the floor,
He was sure to be back in time,
To feed his family of four.
Although monkey was guilty,
He missed work twice,
Monkey was confidently sure,
His boss would be all nice.
Monkey had walked to the glass,
It said no dogs allowed,
For sure he was a monkey,
He walked in and proudly bowed.
His boss said he had to leave,
For he was not a monkey,
But monkey had explained,
He was very chunky.
The boss escorted his out,
Angry as could be,
For sure he was a monkey,
Can’t his work boss see?
He decided to go food shopping,
At the nearest grocery store,
He wanted to get home quickly,
So his family wouldn’t be that poor.
Monkey walked to the grocery store,
His feet were aching,
It was 10 miles away,
This was a big risk that he was taking.
Monkey got there very fast,
Quick as in running,
It said only monkeys allowed,
Wow that sign was stunning!
Monkey had barged in,
All the monkeys were looking at him,
He was told to get out,
So then he visited his old friend,
Hungry, hungry Jim.
When monkey had arrived,
Jim had told him he was a dog,
So Monkey left ashamed,
In the new deep fog.
Monkey had decided to go home,
And Comfort his 3 young ones,
He’d see his wife,
Oh, he loved them all a ton.
Hungry, Hungry Jim smiled,
As if he was really, really bad,
He decided not to eat him today,
He saw him so sad.
Monkey’s house
Was just around the corner,
It was a pretty color white,
But most of the time,
There was not much light.
He had opened his house door,
So lonely and ashamed,
He was a monkey,
He had claimed.
Monkey flickered on the light,
Nobody was there,
His wife and kids left him a note,
“You are a dog, we could not bear”.
Monkey was so depressed now,
He walked to hungry, hungry Jim’s house
He had tiptoed in,
And was as quiet as a mouse.
Jim had caught him,
And asked why he was not home,
Monkey had explained,
His house is just a comb.
Monkey said his family had left him,
Because he was a dog,
They think I don’t belong,
And am just a plain old hog.
All of a sudden,
The panda ate him whole,
And the only thing that was left,
Was his sad little soul.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
The old order changeth, yielding place to new
-Tennyson, Idylls of the King
Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp
In spasms of existential death; they pass
At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver
Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there
If you vote they give you a sticker
The ephemeral Constitution changed
Like sweaty skivvies by each president
Law libraries catalogued for pulp
By obedient functionaries in tees
If you vote they give you a sticker
The faithful escorted out of the cathedral
By a bored security guard on overtime
The altar linens for sale at Goodwill
And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V.
If you vote they give you a sticker
Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds
And the others cheer only for the Blues
As the reincarnation of Jack Chick
Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps
If you vote they give you a sticker
Election placards on abandoned buildings
Promise again prosperity for all
The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz
Private Academy of the Dance and Math
If you vote they give you a sticker
An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will
Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ
Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather
If you vote they give you a sticker
And blessed be the Holy AR-15
God gave to His People to defend themselves
Here in the freest country in the world
Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence
If you vote they give you a sticker
While fleets of luxury presidential jets
Arc high over our public housing projects
Reminding us of our prosperity
Here in the richest country in the world
If you vote they give you a sticker
And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right
But them other Jews they just ain’t no good
Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither
And don’t you get me started on them Baptists
(We seem to have been otherwise engaged)
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new” –
(But neither cares at all for me or you)
But if you vote they give you a sticker
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Anna entered the room like a butterfly, gossamer to all.
Her face told a different story. One of sadness and hurt.
She wore only the finest silks and seamed cuban stockings.
All eyes latched upon her and followed every step. But no real man ever approached her.
No saviour could get near.
She wore none of her finery, the choice all his.
A trophy bride,
sold like raw meat in her childhood.
It was normal in her village, her adolescence stolen from her.
Anna's delicate neck held an overbearing sapphire necklace. It was overkill in every way.
All for show, all chosen by him, all for him.
He entered with his cronies as though owning the club.
The way he thought he owned her.
Thought indeed, for there is always a price in ownership.
Hours past champagne and fake laughter abounded.
Then she stood up.
Immediately challenged!
She wished to go and powder her nose.
Naturally escorted, god forbid she made outside contact.
But she was not watched within. Minutes passed then... The scream.
She had left, Anna had escaped him.
The anger on his face !
He had no control, lost face in front of them all.
For Anna, oh beautiful Anna lay sylph like wrapped like a cloud in her white dress, its silk floating in a pool of her life blood.
She had left, she was free.
Now her face was different, white, ashen but at peace.
Free..
Anna had left.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
I see a pattern Everywhere:
Circles and globes (three dimensional circles);
Shiny rings of fire.
Countless manifestations of this same shape.
Star-spangled galaxies wheeling through the sky:
That half-globe dome.
Earth, in circular orbit (more or less) around the Sun,
Escorted by the Moon.
Days give way to seasons,
Repeating every year.
Groundhog Days becoming
Groundhog Creations
Perhaps.
The list seems endless:
Hopkins’ dapples,
Planets, craters, cyclones, anti-cyclones, sea currents,
***** apples, oranges, nuts, potatoes,
Teardrops, heads, faces, eyes, mouths,
Holes!
Coins, bin lids, and plates;
Sunflowers, daisies, pansies,
Rings of mushrooms,
Circling birds of prey,
A cat curled in a circle,
Like a foetus.
Life as we know it
Is a circle
And a cycle too.
Birth, Death, Blossom, Wilt.
Reincarnation?
Renewal?
Clock-faced Time itself.
Eternity might be a circle,
Infinity the same.
Maybe even God,
Some way.
Perhaps we still are building God,
For Him or Her to travel back through time
Like Doctor Who
To Create The Big Bang,
And form this expanding Universe,
Thus taking us full circle.
Or maybe the Universe will fold back in upon itself,
Producing yet one more Big Bang,
In an endless cycle,
Of Big Bangs,
Amongst this ever circling
Multiverse.
Paul Butters
© PB, 14th February, 2011 at 14.00, in Humberside.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 4:14 AM UTC
Sitting in a restaurant in cottage country.
with my parents, my friend,my sister and her two friends.
I'm eating these miniature boneless chicken wings
I feel a pain in my chest,
I take a sip of my ice tea through a straw
And sit there holding my chest and closing my eyes
--
In my head is a jack hammer just pounding
My whole body feels pinned down
but also moving like the jack hammer
--
Laying on the ground I see my father leaning over top of me
I am on my back
He is pinning me down
My vision blacking out and head still pounding
"Call 911, she's having a seizure"
The only thing I can manage to say is "no"
"no. No! no! NO! No? NO... no no nonono...."
And the only thing I could think of was 'I don'y want to be a seizure person'
Epileptic is what i meant to say, but the word didn't come to me.
Tears are rushing down my face, terrified.
I can only hope this is a one time thing.
As I am helped up by my mom and escorted to the bathroom
I see all these faces looking at me
Faces of sympathy
That is the worst feeling ever.
Being stared as you are leaving the room after a seizure
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
I was born of a fisherman, fine and faithful
Faithful to God and the sea, faithful to my mother and me
I am a daughter of the sea, sensible and salty
To the sea I am impressed, there is peace that permeates
Perhaps it is in my bones, Portuguese explorer’s blood
When I breathe the salt air, its spirit deflects despair
This love derives from my father, this love affair with saltwater
This man of the sea fosters respect, but also tends to overprotect
Perhaps the sea prepared him to be practical and prudent
Undulating waves shaping his vision, dreams escorted to fruition
For these dreams I am grateful, for the breath of the sea
The lust the ocean produces in me
The love from his heart, the love from the sea
Floated over the waters so lavishly so lovely
I'll send him a kiss across the Atlantic
I hope it lands neatly on his cheek
I hope it reaches him, quick
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
The ancient church of St James.
Lead-edged windows, each portion given stained glass faces.
Sunlight rippled on those faces, each face a tale to tell.
Sheltered from the elements, donated from above.
Safety under a covered roof of green lichen.
The bell tower shouted its cheerful peals.
Bridegroom proud. Standing in regimented battle regalia.
Epaulettes almost glowing with excitement.
Matching his shiny shoes.
As he waited for his bride that day.
To make his life complete.
He knew for now, deep in his heart.
That very soon he would depart.
Church bells rang, excitedly, as if missing every second beat.
His heart was missing more.
Glances up.
Between the external aisle, the now laying; no longer living, brothers under standing stones.
A picture of pure innocence in her ivory wedding gown.
Promenading through the church yard to catch her wanted man.
Escorted proudly by him, by the father of the bride.
Into the church they drifted upon ethereal glow.
The vicar bade them welcome.
After hymns and prayers of three.
Holy man he gave his blessings.
Pronounced them man and wife.
As the following morning sun she rose, forbade the joys of married life.
He wanted not to wake his bride.
He left just a bunch of flowers, mauve and blue, forget me nots.
In his heart he hoped he'd see her soon.
Before the wake of summer's moon.
For off to war he went.
Both knew he had to go.
Proud man departed for war, with rivers of silent eyes.
(C) LIVVI
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
When I was a child, the children went out for Halloween. As we headed out the door, my father just had to be seen.
There came a sound from the window upstairs, it was my father with the microphone. I want to thank God; he was on his own.
He said, "Now Hear This! I'm going to send my children out to night. Do not ****** their bags, and do not fight."
As we went to collect our candy, I got a lot in my bag. Only to see my large feet neighbor snatching my candy, making my father mad.
He escorted me across the field, where my neighbor lived. He was not going to leave her house, until she was in a position to give.
The girl's father apologized to me and my father, on that Halloween night. Her father made her give me all of her candy she stole, from everyone in sight that night.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
they've now got a toehold in the place, they're well established
they've now got a toehold in the place, they're well established
nowt will move them, these parts suit them
nowt will move them, these parts suit them
these parts suit them, they're well established
they've now got a toehold in the place, nowt will move them
the board is crammed with their posts, over a hundred counted to-day
the board is crammed with their posts, over a hundred counted to-day
no doubt they're insistent, they'll not be nudged
no doubt they're insistent, they'll not be nudged
over a hundred counted to-day, no doubt they're insistent
they'll not be nudged, the board is crammed with their posts
some aren't impressed with their carry on, what bugbears they've become
some aren't impressed with their carry on, what bugbears they've become
they need to be escorted from here, HP management isn't listening
they need to be escorted from here, HP management isn't listening
what bugbears they've become, they need to be escorted from here
some aren't impressed with their carry on, HP management isn't listening
the board is crammed with their posts, they're well established
they need to be escorted from here, what bugbears they've become
some aren't impressed with their carry on, no doubt they're insistent
they'll not be nudged, they've got a toehold in the place
over a hundred counted to-day, these parts suit them
nowt will move them, HP management isn't listening
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
"I believed I was right," he says,
then leaves.
Not escorted by guards -
no cuffs in sight. Free
to make his next after-dinner speech
and pick up the fee.
Some may complain, protest
that this dog, unsleeping, may not lie
but others think "He did what he thought best,
"God knows, there's too little faith these days!"
Say it was politic.
Say it was a compromise,
the lesser evil.
Say even that it was unwise.
Admit that one man
cannot feel so many deaths
and so should not try.
But do not fly like a flag
a security of faith,
a surety of right
that ***** a nation
condemning
countless
howling
thousands
to a voiceless end.
If you still cannot see
that you might have been wrong
then you are unfit
to call yourself
human.
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 9:34 AM UTC
I am a physician.Last fall, I had a very interesting
conversation with a patient who is a trucker. I asked her if she knew
anything about deep underground military bases, and then I played ignorant
to see what she would say.
Without further prompting, she informed me she is an independent contractor
trucker, driving 18-wheeler rigs cross-country. She said the bases are real
and are located all over the country, "especially under the mountains out
West". She said one of her main contracts over the last few years has been
with DHS.
She said there are underground roads running all over the United States,
connecting the underground facilities.
She said she has personally delivered many truckloads of supplies to the
underground facilities. For each DHS shipment/delivery, there was a stack
of non-disclosure forms about (by her description) six inches thick she had
to sign.
DHS would attach a tracking device to her truck for each of these shipments
and monitor her truck's every move. She would be told where to go to accept
delivery for each shipment. In each case, she would be escorted by guards
"with machine guns" away from her truck, so she could not see what was
being loaded into her rig. The truck would then be locked by a large lock
with a ring 'as big around as your finger", which had to be torch-cut off
at the time of delivery.
When she would make deliveries, often within underground facilities, she
would again be escorted away from the truck by armed guards, the lock would
be cut off, and the goods would be unloaded.
She said the only shipped goods she ever saw in these DHS shipments were
stackable black plastic things that looked like coffins.
She told be the gov't is getting ready for a collapse, which she told be
she expected might happen as early as late 2014.
She also told me she thinks the gov't has just about everything is needs
stored underground, because the number of DHS shipments has been
declining.
I asked her if she would be willing to have lunch with me and tell me more.
She replied, "yes", but afterwards when I contacted her, she had changed
her mind and would not talk further about it with me.
Another pt of mine, whom I saw within about a week of this lady, is a local
trucker, but he told me that he has lots of friends who are truckers, and
through them, he said he had learned that there are "thousands of miles of
underground roads" running across the country, connecting underground gov't
facilities.
He had just recently, in fact, heard among his trucker friends of a
shipment of frozen meat being shipped to one such underground facility,
totaling four million pounds of meat.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
*Oh my....
What a ******* **** sight you are
About 5'11" in your ******* hot *** ***** pink dress along with your **** long, gorgeous black hair and your fashionably seductive hoop earrings, enticing, Spanish green eyes and smile
Well you did tell me you were Spanish/Italian like Selena Gomez Definitely lit my ******* soul up and I felt myself losing my breath
You asked me what my name is
I said "Xoaquin what's yours?"
"Just call me little wet **** you said with your **** wet breath as you whispered into my ear
So then I said "Ooooh ok little wet **** You're so naughty."
I said "Listen you see that girl up there? Well I was thinking about getting a dance from both of you."
You said "Oh ok well let's go."
You escorted me to the stage in the center of the V.I.P. to watch the other girl until her song was over. The three of us went into the V.I.P. and you both climbed on top of me. I started grabbing her ***** but I started grabbing yours too. I was actually more into you. You're way sexier. I believe I told you that as we were by the stage
You said "You're very ****
I said "Thank you."
I then said "Well I know you don't need me to tell you because you already know that you are ****
You said "Thank you baby."
Fast forward back to the moment. Kaylie started putting her **** ******* in my face while you grinded your soft **** Latin *** up and down my **** You have great rhythm. Loved the touch/feel of your skin. I loved how both of you rubbed your ******* and ***** all over. You both have very thick round juicy tender ***** and I loved every inch of them. Every inch of skin. Every inch of thickness within my grip
You both smelled very good. I loved your scent especially between your ***** Felt/smelled so nice.
Hope I see you again "little wet ****
Even moreso I hope that I get to taste you next time*
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 6:34 PM UTC
My companion has no clothes to speak of -
no odours, no form, only shape from being
born from flat ground - transparent in the round;
an open guide that pulls you from the inside
to a new plane not seen before - straight
thro' any solid door; where is this place
I've been escorted to? Encouraged and
gently led a long way above my head
seems familiar a a long time ago - the pace
of life here is very slow, timeless
airless, a pale hue - my Fair Isle pullover
must be a clue; seem smaller now
everyone taller just as ghostly friends dance
It appears that I've been given a second chance
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
I am told that my anatomy is the sheer academy of my lack of sensibility and that my sense of autonomy is just my way of rebelling against my own skin.
Because I was born in a body that is just a little too small to contain such an opinion, and so this must be just the remainder of some book I read, right?
I am told that at times my mouth traces outlines larger than my hands can, and all I know is that my fingers stretch to try and reach the cord that turns off the light on my porch so that I can find the streetlight shadow puppet.
Because I am at odds with the lightbulb delivery of my best friend’s idealism and my body’s realism and it’s all a sense of alchemism when I’m searching for altruism.
I’m told that I am too big for my body, or “for such a little girl, you’re very smart,”. I used to start in the plus-size section of stores, only to be escorted to diminutive floral prints and capri pants.
I am still mistaken for a lost child at the airport, I am still advised not to go out in certain areas after dark, I didn’t realize I was small until I wasn’t listened to.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
Pure winds
Beautiful prairie
Tall grass
Kissing the dew
Mighty fork
Winding tributary
Escorted by grass, fescue
Aged trees
Standing in groves
Greet the fowl of dawn
Talking bison
Muffled tone
Still awaken the merry prairie dog
Lone rider
Haulin' mail across the plains
Headin' west, for Sacramento
Indian fighter
On plains self-same
Will insure this mailman sees no tomorrow
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
From the seas he returns.
Our ****** feet, reunited, grind into the same grimy ground
He has returned threatened and escorted
He is the inescapable praying prey, cornered by im/mortal forces
I/we, the I’m mortal, the stunning Gorgon mask with
The dummy serpents squirming and lusting to be unearthed,
We march to bring justice to love and ***
We protrude the fiery blood red tongue at his feet.
Take flight, exhale, touch the sun
X marks the spot in the center, the bullseye, the end
The flesh creates the reality the squealers
shriek and unbolt the doors to reveal the contaminated stains of
truth
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
What is misery?
Why it is the darkest pit of our hearts and souls.
We are dragged towards it,
Grasping hopelessly at something to hold.
Almost as if Achlys herself is lurking about
Pulling us further, never intending to let us out.
No, rather, we are pushed towards it
Forced to accept this fate by the rest of them
It’s ironic, in a world where we are told to be free
We are still forced into a fatalistic indoctrination
Believing all the while, that we are going to be fine
When in fact, we are going to be escorted to self-damnation
With a spear in our back and a smile on our face
It’s sickening, isn't it?
This twisted image of the human race.
We lie and steal and cheat and **** each other,
But for what?
What is the purpose of this self-destructive behavior?
It is the false salvation of our misery,
Our false belief that the misery of others is
Evidence of our superiority,
Providing an escape from our own melancholy
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
Over the holidays, I was watching Lisa’s sister little Leeza, she’s 14.
She has a rebellious fashion sense and a joyful innocence.
She’s still fearless too, and on-God, I hope she never loses that.
Too soon though—the disco’s coming to town—the world’s coming for her. It’s the same for all of us, I suppose, but in Lisa and my cases, covid shut it all down.
It’s a rite of passage—the shoes, the bodycon dresses and the makeup. Those carry negative connotations, I get it, but there’s an excitement too, about finally getting to dress like an adult—a woman—in one of those bodycon, cut-out dresses.
I know the pressures on women and their bodies, but at her age, it's not all stress, cattiness and comparisons—it’s just innocent teen fun. She and her posse can take hours just dressing and doing their make-up—together. It’s probably the best part of their night.
Leeza’s dad (Michael) saw the little group of teens, all dolled-up and launched, like a SpaceX Starship. Pacing the living room, he quietly opined to Karen (her mom), “I don’t want her going out dressed like that.”
Karen was right there with him to cool things down, “No, *** at her age, it’s about self-expression, learning and girl bonding—these connections are really important in the girl-world.”
I’m not worried about Leeza’s physical safety. These girls are watched over and gently curated. Their every movement is orchestrated and security escorted—hell, Hamas couldn’t get to them—much less some gropey boy.
There’s just this new awareness these days of how unhappy some people are—and a lot of them are teen girls. I wouldn’t want to see Leeza mired in the sad, brain-draining social media pressure and self-esteem traps.
Teenhood is scary—I was feelin’ positively parental.
Then I looked at Lisa, and I was reminded that they’ve done all this before, and she has a big-sister, role-model too.
.
.
Songs for this:
Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker
Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 11:12 AM UTC
Star glass and light. Emotion engine, dream machine. This is my Lightcycle! With just thought I can catapult myself across the galaxy! I remember home and the fields of blue bonnets and Indian paint brushes. I remember looking up at the stars from Earth. Wishing to one day see them. But nothing is more beautiful than that blue star from afar. Earth shines and sings sapphire among the blackness we call space. But as I enter my solar system I no longer see her. I quickly thought stream home and find my planet is covered in a sick gray shadowy nebula. Something is here and is trying to take away all the souls of the Earth! I try and break through with my Lightcycle! The star shell fills with my anger and despair! Reds and tornados made of light dance within my Lightcycle! But to no avail the nebula seems to counter act my will! I close my eyes as tears flow. My lightcycle cries colors on the inside. As I open my eyes I see a cloud within my lightcycle that is made of all colors! It then clears as I see the harp with light strings the Dragon Secalos gave to me. This was the dragon I escorted across the galaxy! The harp then materialized in my hands and I played the melody of the star serpent! I cannot begin to describe the melody to you. It was like my dreams were playing for me. From afar I could see a blue star growing and growing. Only it was no blue star at all! It was the dragon Secalos! He was even more massive than before. His wings shined Star Earth blue. He must of been the size of our moon. He looked to me with glowing blue eyes! He spoke to me with his mind. " I will help you in thy darkest hour as you helped me." The dragon then flew toward our sun and completely back in an instant. He then emitted a beam of light that was all colors toward the dark gray nebula. The dark grey nebula filled with colors and seem to almost dissipate. The beautiful majestic Earth seem to almost smile back at me. " Thank you serpent of the stars!" " Thank you rider of light. "
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC