"expletive" poems
Locked in your fiery eyes i submit
naked, **** exposed to be exploited
by Your will i lay before you awaiting....
to begin Our intimacy
wanton to please
Breathing in the anticipation
i am frozen by Your hesitation
for i crave
Your touch,
Your lips,
Your embrace
in every rise of my *******
breathing deep
my thoughts creep
and time slows
In Your soul, i wish to peek...
Behind the lurking darkness in Your eyes
Is it love or lust hidden in disguise
i acquiesce
my forbidden fruit i wish to bare
the entrance to my sacred chambers
ripe with carnal desire
may it be Your pleasure
To imprint Your sting
forever seared
upon my redden flesh
so that it lingers in tenderness
long after Our journey
Your caress against my flesh
in piercing pleasure resonates
up the curvature of my spine
releasing infinite electric butterflies
i cannot hide
You plunge deep below the surface
infusing Our bodies as One
rhythmically in motion
edging each crest before plunging
deeper into the next
into the depths of brazen hunger
i want to surrender
though my growl cannot be hidden
‘neath the rumble of my heighten instinct
to soar in expletive exclamation
my animal within
my pounded thighs spread wider
below pulsating muscles
beating louder, harder, deeper
my cavity contracts
howling in blazed heat
i scream
through my glare
into Your eyes
of consent again, release me
in the allowance of your’s
entwined
Allow me to feel you
as you fill me
emotions untethered
in Your mind
Your body and spirit
The rapture of Your release
i capture
in my mind
my body and soul
anchored to my memory
Our journey
In gaping breath
We fall ...
Entangled in blissful euphoria
Your shivering body envelopes mine
a sweet embrace
a tender kiss
long has it been since I’ve felt such passion
i admit...
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
*Bare stage. A square neon sign on extreme right which reads: “This way to Heaven”.
Prolonged silence. Enter Snail, moving very slowly throughout the play.*
Snail:
I’m a dead snail.
I’m going to Heaven.
I’ve lived for 15 years.
That’s a ripe old age.
I’ve been blessed.
Had a marvellous *** life, you know.
Well, if you know snails
we attract a mate with our slime.
Oh, slime turns me on, baby.
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Well, maybe I should focus on holy thoughts.
Purity...refined thoughts...you know...
Snail God does not like ***
Copulation is not exactly what
Snail God meant when Snail God declared:
*"Go forth and slime the world;
be ye together..."*
Snail God demands purity
so let me be so...
after all, I’m going to Heaven...
a dead snail and moving on to Heaven...
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Had a precarious life,
you know,
all these 15 years...
A farmer saw me in the grass.
I heard him curse
and he raised his foot to crush me.
Well, unfortunately for him
he stepped on a snake
and the last I heard of the man
was an expletive
and the last I heard of the snake was a hiss.
Yes, I’ve had a long life
a risky life - but it’s all worth it
for an eternal life in Heaven
is my reward
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
(Enter Frog, jumping. Snail looks at Frog in amazement. And Frog stops and looks at Snail in amazement.)
Frog: What are you doing?
Snail: That’s what I was about to ask of you.
Frog: I’m a dead Frog and I’m jumping on my way to Heaven.
Snail: I’m a dead Snail and I’m moving on to Heaven.
Frog: This is ridiculous.
Snail: Indeed. It is ridiculous.
A Frog going to Heaven?
No, for it is truly declared by Snail God:
"None but Snails shall enter Heaven."
Frog: And in the words of the Frog God:
*"I shall confound all other creatures.
Only Frogs shall enter Heaven."*
And so it has come to pass
Snails think they can go to Heaven.
Unless the Frog God
in Its Infinite Wisdom
has arranged for a Dish of Snails
when all Pure Frogs are at Its side in Paradise.
Well, Snail...you’re toast when I see you in Heaven.
(Frog jumps on to near stage right, screaming: “Heaven - here I come!” and then disappears.)
(Long silence.)
Snail (facing audience): Well, what next? - The snake to Heaven?
The Farmer to Heaven? His dog to Paradise?
Donkeys to Heaven?
(Snail moves on , in its slow way, to nothing but Heaven...)
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 11:21 PM UTC
*Bare stage. A square neon sign on extreme right which reads: “This way to Heaven”.
Prolonged silence. Enter Snail, moving very slowly throughout the play.*
Snail:
I’m a dead snail.
I’m going to Heaven.
I’ve lived for 15 years.
That’s a ripe old age.
I’ve been blessed.
Had a marvellous *** life, you know.
Well, if you know snails
we attract a mate with our slime.
Oh, slime turns me on, baby.
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Well, maybe I should focus on holy thoughts.
Purity...refined thoughts...you know...
Snail God does not like ***
Copulation is not exactly what
Snail God meant when Snail God declared:
*"Go forth and slime the world;
be ye together..."*
Snail God demands purity
so let me be so...
after all, I’m going to Heaven...
a dead snail and moving on to Heaven...
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Had a precarious life,
you know,
all these 15 years...
A farmer saw me in the grass.
I heard him curse
and he raised his foot to crush me.
Well, unfortunately for him
he stepped on a snake
and the last I heard of the man
was an expletive
and the last I heard of the snake was a hiss.
Yes, I’ve had a long life
a risky life - but it’s all worth it
for an eternal life in Heaven
is my reward
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
(Enter Frog, jumping. Snail looks at Frog in amazement. And Frog stops and looks at Snail in amazement.)
Frog: What are you doing?
Snail: That’s what I was about to ask of you.
Frog: I’m a dead Frog and I’m jumping on my way to Heaven.
Snail: I’m a dead Snail and I’m moving on to Heaven.
Frog: This is ridiculous.
Snail: Indeed. It is ridiculous.
A Frog going to Heaven?
No, for it is truly declared by Snail God:
"None but Snails shall enter Heaven."
Frog: And in the words of the Frog God:
*"I shall confound all other creatures.
Only Frogs shall enter Heaven."*
And so it has come to pass
Snails think they can go to Heaven.
Unless the Frog God
in Its Infinite Wisdom
has arranged for a Dish of Snails
when all Pure Frogs are at Its side in Paradise.
Well, Snail...you’re toast when I see you in Heaven.
(Frog jumps on to near stage right, screaming: “Heaven - here I come!” and then disappears.)
(Long silence.)
Snail (facing audience): Well, what next? - The snake to Heaven?
The Farmer to Heaven? His dog to Paradise?
Donkeys to Heaven?
(Snail moves on , in its slow way, to nothing but Heaven...)
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 11:21 PM UTC
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous
The warrior on the mountain confessed to us
Sordid sully suborn salacious
Only the worst will ever keep pace with us
In extremis extremity exigence exodus
Is the answer clear to all of us
Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue
Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue
Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster
Or just another cauldron muck stir
Mystical magical manumission mandate
That only the good would ever relate date
Fornicating fecund finite's fate
I can only hope it will be I rate
Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery
Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me
Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive
Won't be contained, like water in a sieve
Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled
And all of that surreal newfangled
Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence
How I wish I could float its boat sense
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
They gave me a name that didn’t suit me.
What’s funny is
the universe recognized that
before I did.
She paid me this compliment:
*“There’s too much person to you.
You can’t be tripped up with so many
syllables in something so trivial as a name.
Less speaking, more breathing,”* she said.
Four reduced to two.
Now I can exist in half the time.
I became “Bitsy.”
Which means I’m associated
with certain things.
Mainly tiny spiders
and brightly pattered swimwear.
It’s easy to be irked by that, you know.
Yet, I smile and take it,
because they raised me
with the patience of an idiot.
I get automatic cute points
just for introducing myself with a name like this.
Newcomers get giddy,
like hearing my name is equivalent
to receiving a box of kittens.
I always try to drop an expletive or two—
I just don’t want them
to get the wrong f#@%ing impression.
“Less speaking, more breathing.”
I instructed the universe
not to do me any more favors.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
that initial feeling
of water as
it seeps
through the seams
of a boot
finding cracks
in the leather
supposedly
waterproofed
against such leaching
of puddles being
drawn in by
a traitorous sock
willing to sacrifice
the fraternity
of dry comfort
that once it held
flooded with irritation
that will be quenched
only with the offering
of an inane
expletive or two
muttered
under breath
carrying the weight
of a week's worth
of frustrations
Dec 5, 2022
Dec 5, 2022 at 11:25 AM UTC
Veins, veins,
length and breadth,
intertwined
beats to freedom
or desolation;
a terminus
lost on a circular.
An ebbing destination,
unchartered targets,
Follow the signs.
We are a one way street,
follow the signs
on software maps.
Stumped
by sequential lights
and us, caught
in a dragnet
within steely fish,
gasping for air,
choking on smoke,
bilious coughs,
hacking sputum,
gobbing phlegm globs
in interval gaps
within gridlocks;
nose to **** to
nose to ****
The rage, the stares
the shouts, the finger,
the Grrr’s, the Rrrr’s,
the honks, the blares,
the bumper to bumper
expletive shares.
The rolling down,
the alighting,
the threats,
the fighting.
The falling down,
the separation,
reseating,
the rolling,
the thunder,
the trudge,
the stops, the starts.
Follow the signs,
follow the signs.
Robotic conveyors
for humans,
mechanical
fossil fueled
chariots,
grumbling, grunting,
wheee-ing and
screeching,
and screaming
and spewing
and chuffing
and guffing
black plumes,
air tarred,
veins, veins
clogged and bogged,
viscous, molasses,
liquid black blob.
Road fogged,
numbers logged.
Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
slow crawl.
Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
follow the signs,
sprawl.
Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:20 AM UTC
My hand.
My sweet hand, its long fingers, hold out for you. It feels for you, to guide you through this storm. I can feel you, just out of reach, your arms are turned away from me, crossed to protect you, shielding the darkness within from escaping, as if pushing back the rise of a storm, that your heart, can no longer contain.
There is a storm coming.
I can see it in your eyes, as they look behind me, unable to see me, unable to see, me. As if my very visage is a reminder that you can no longer be alone, as if my very eyes tell you that you are here with me, and all, will be, ok. And your very eyes, and your very chest and your very shoulders, they seem to die a thousand deaths before me, exuding defeat and terror and defense, and relief, all at the same time.
I. cannot. reach. you.
Hold. out. your. hand. My. Love.
You sit, you stand, you walk away, you ignore my hand. You want to do this alone. Alone, without me. With me, alone. But my heart beats only for you, you can hear the sound distantly, from the pulse inmy wrist by my hand, and it widens your eyes and stirs you. And, I can see, the very depths of your soul in each breath you release. In every expletive you throw at me, for being here, for making you realise that, I am not, her. I am not, her. I am not, them. Your soul, it unleashes hell, fire, ash and a deep darkness you cannot bear.
My love. My sweet sweet love. Hear me:
I am safety, i wear an orange vest and headlamp. I am clear skies, and sunshine. I am a long open road to nowhere. I am teenage butterflies. I am the chest with the ******* that you will lie your head on during the night and find security. I am the shore after the wreck. I am freedom, beauty, passion, laughter and forever after. I am shelter, with blankets. I am the fullness of your void. I am the full stop to the end of your questions.
There is a storm coming.
You have tied yourself to the rigging. You are stood ready for the hurracaine. You glance briefly at me, and in your eyes is a child that is lost, that is lost, that is longing, that is hollow and alone, and does.not.understand. Why?
There is a storm coming.
The dam in your heart broke and the arteries flood your brain with, life, fear, and belief.
Take my hand, my love. I will be here. I will not be, moved.
I am, a rock, to cling to. I am a storm shelter. I am a end to your beginning.
I will not leave. I will not go. I be here in the fall, the ruin, the despise, the bitterness, the anger, the rejection, and the destruction. I will be here, with my arm, hung out to dry amongst the linen and the memories you drew on them to protect yourself from me.
My hand, it can hold your world. My hand can protect you. My hand, we can conquer the world, my love. My hand is yours, my hand is yours, my hand, is, yours.
Take it.
Fall to your knees, place my hand on your face as you weep the storm in to my world, and release the whole hurracaine within you. I will take that storm and absolve it from itself.
My hand, your cheek
My pulse, your heart.
My love.
Take my hand, release your storm.
(now read again, whilst listening to this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uffjii1hXzU&feature;=share&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9Ay9pKcP7K4WLmlE_GjKuqE)
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
Opened a book today
My eyes fell upon a page of poems
How odd, it feels so familiar to me
Yet, how can this be?
Picked up an organic instrument
And played a song I do not know
Whence cometh the inspiration?
Only from the whispers of ..... a previous life....
These things I see doing, I claim not expeditious
For it's only if and when....the muses decide to see fit
A mere vessel to transport what already is there!
Every possible thought-combo has its keen template.
Never did an equestrian thing before
Yet I find me mounting superb horse and ride
Flowing action, wide awake and so thrilling
No expletive required to tell of happy lingering.
Going upon the mountain to pray, this day
Not to find you
But that you ....find me
Don't you just give up so fast!
Can't deny strong polarising effect in here
This life affords us another chance: second time around.
S T, 4 May 2013
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 6:59 AM UTC
Seven days straight, the sun rolls up,always from the same
side of town and just the same way it gives up and lays down
The same buses run on the same old routes.
No letup.
So dream a dream.
Next day,instant replay.
Know what ? I know the drill
Sunday.is like Halloween, Rubber faces and trick or treat with Reverend Ike.
Fire and brimstone. Please turn down ya cell phones.Pass the plate.
payola to heaven's gate.
Monday.Back on the grind, Blood,sweat and tears.
Grinding mental gears.Pop the clutch,Earn so little
Pay so much.
Tuesday.? just locked in. The Lotto is calling, cant win if ya dont play.
Teasin me bout easy street. Gimme my lump sum Then watch me fly.
Keep missin me with that later, greater noise.
Keep it real son.
Wednesday. Looking of into the sunset now.All ****** up
getting up for the down-stroke.Sweat of my brow. Feel me NOW ?
Take a deep breath blow out slow. If you dont tell it then the devil wont know.
Thursday. Gettin closer to shore,Go for your backstroke cause yer starting to
fade. In through the mouth and out through the nose focus your gaze on the
circling crows? Crows ?
Friday. Ah snap yer ends came up short. Tax man just waxin yer ***
Ghoulish?. Foolish. Some ends might not meet.
Sat-Day. Not so fat day. Pullin pocket lint by 6.PM.Chump changin.
is changin your mind. Gettin glimpses of stressin the old bump and grind On Moanday. ****
expletive deleted.
Stun-day. Hungday?
Rake your sh%@t in a pile day ?
No Doubt Assed out.
Hello... Monday.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
you make me feel
stupid
like 7:16 am
sophomore year
running through april dew
ankles
soaked
drenched
standing at the bus stop
for 3 minutes
you make me regret
******* teenage 17 year old regret
not full blown adult cnbc market watch
anderson cooper
i’m talking
buying a mirror for my locker
poster-board for a project
teenage
what the expletive have you done to me
regret
thank you
thanks
no, thank you
so much
for one more chapter.
thanks.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
My Kingdom
is a builder,s yard.
A Bethlehem
of measurement
of plasterboard and timbering.
An interwoven sepulchre
of garrulous vernacular.
Expletive-laden badinage,
our handle of the hardstand
is the character of companies
I keep.
And unto these
my time is priced,
my soul is planed,
my name is signed...
but
in the dark
of winter evenings,
watching ancient planets rise,
I contemplate the other lives
another me, might live...
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 1:05 PM UTC
If luck knocks on your louvered door you will have a chance to fight your enemy. You will stand up like a crackerjack prize and pay no mind to the man that broke your backbone.
Into the windowless courtroom you will trek. People lined up on hand carved benches, staring with unaroused expressions, waiting warily for their names to be called.
You feel your breath halfheartedly fill your emaciated lungs with foul and cumbersome air as you survey the miserable scene and avoid locking eyes with the man that was disguised as your one true love.
You wear a band of rubber which you snap on your wrist at the first sign of weakness so you stay focused on the gavel’s exclamation.
He tells your long-lost spouse from another life with another wife that this is not Watergate and “I don’t recall” will not suffice in his civil courtroom.
His honor dishonors his woven white robe when he yells in your direction with agape red mouth and judgmental judicial tone. When the courage strikes your hand-stitched smile will widen with words and you will command an audience of perjurers who will point forceful fingers at their prior partners that used to be ****** lovers and now sit dead pan wantonly waiting to bleat themselves dry.
Slam the gavel while the corn cracks in the microwave bag until all the edges have been popped out and fairness has been forced through the funnel like liquid butter with a diet coke to wash it down.
You walk away, down the dark labyrinth of hallowed halls snapping your gum and tip-tapping your heels as you flee from the referee who does not understand your half eaten heart with the wiggly worm within its wind-up walls. He will pronounce your fate with a backhanded expletive and a muffled “adjourned.”
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
***** wobbling Buddha
I think you may have cursed me
With your eyes closed
Picking at a chronic scab
Delicately placing the detritus
Into your mouth
Ha!
You didn't think I saw you do that
Did you?
****** you off
Didn't I?
A wave of the hand, a well-worn expletive
And I'm dismissed
Smoking, hacking gargoyle
Glued to your grimy floor
Staring at me through tight squinted eyes
Damning each and every
Soul you've ever known
Have I been convinced
That I am exactly like you?
Or that you can send me to hell?
I think you may already have
A wave of the hand, a well-worn expletive
I'm down in the hole
But one thing must be said:
You have a wonderful collection of dolls
Every peach pink pucker-lipped face
Stares blindly
Lined up in rows on shelves
In an unused room
Their feet scuffed with black tar
Little silk dresses torn
Or naked
**** plastic
Unashamed toys
Five gates, uncaring
Five doors, barred forever
Heads filled with air
Still they feel more than you
Still they feel more than you
Do
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 10:25 AM UTC
(Pentagon E-ring office—executive officer knocks & enters—General motions him in)
XO,
Explain
examinees...
Examinee
X-11,
Xander
Xanakis
Experience?
Explosives
expert.
Ex-Army.
Executive
experience
Exam?
Exceptional
Excellent!
Excessive
Exessive?
Explain
Extreme
xenophobe
(expletive)
Exclude
Examinee
X-12...
Xavier
Xanthopoulos...
Experience?
Expert—
extraction,
exfiltration.
Ex-Navy,
Executive
Experience
Exam?
Excelled
Extracuricular
extras...
Explain
Expat,
X-games,
xylophone...
Expat?
Xalapa
(chuckling)
X-games,
xylophone—
(laughs)
X-Factor!
(XO nods his head, smiling)
Xenophobic?
(shaking head)
Xenodochial.
Exeptionally
xenophilic!
Expectations?
Exceeds
Expectations
Excellent!
XO,
exclude
examinee
X-11...
Excluding
Xander
Xanakis
Expedite
Xavier
Xanthopoulos
Expediting
examinee
X-12
XO,
excused
(XO exits)
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC
I don't laugh much
But when I do
My soul is tickled black and blue
Not pink
Let's put a few in ink
And leave the kitchen sink
Ok buddy
Now here they go
Why aren't you nicer to girls?
I've seen love in women's eyes when I speak truthfully and cheerfully
But glee is as rare as a leprechaun family
Dancing under a lunar eclipse
On a galaxy of four leaf clovers
On a snowy day in hell
If you're ringing my bell
And actually I don't believe in hell or god
But I'll still say go to hell
Or god proceeded or followed with my expletive of choice
Spoken with a calm monotone voice
That's my choice
When it comes to my voice I've been mocked
Because of dejected tone plenty of times
So when any pretty lady says she likes it
I just laugh in her cute little face
Now label me a grade A+ *****
What a disgrace
I've been asked a billion times over
Why haven't you done more with your life
You don't have kid's or a wife
Because the brain was consumed by children who weren't mine
Not even a lover's
At least I could've gotten some *** out of it
But sadly she's just my sister
****** doesn't give me a *****
Why don't you like to give me hugs
She'll usually catch a silent shoulder shrug
Because I've lost everything I've built
Cared about them more than myself
Now they're gone
Here's another
Son you need to set some goals
When that's the very reason I've been kept awake
for multiple days at a time
Catching cat naps in between
Years blend together just like the days
In a continuous haze
Living with thoughts
While running from them
However it's just a maze
When you finally find the opening
Just teleports you back to the start
Oh now that's art
Truly beautiful
Scratching my head
Until there's imprints of cuticles
On my scalp
Here's the last joke that leaves me stunned
When beautiful women laugh and joke at my appearance
But at times I hear
Oh he's actually cute or ****
It's just a haircut and a shave and a bathe
I'm still me
And these thoughts vex me
Like someone put a hex on me
Because I want someone to call mine
But why can't you accept me
Whether I'm polished or not
Because notably usually it will be
Not
**** it.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 8:09 PM UTC
that
is the expletive i share
i spew
in class
in a presentation
in a final
so that he laughs
so that he smiles
and so maybe the grader
will forget
that i maybe kinda
accidentally!
missed three
slides of my poem
but it doesn't matter because
he smiled
so i can take
the laughter of the others
the murmurs after
there will be no embarrassment
i just won the gold
in the Olympics of life
or of today
take your pick
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
Lust! (One asterisked bad swear word)!
Lash me not with your tongue.
Tie me up in velvet ribbons.
Soft edged with shiny silk.
Handcuffs you use to keep me trapped.
Be sure you do not lose the key.
A spot of ****** filthiness between only you and me.
Halt me with your kisses
A proper way to spend some time.
Mention not the loving issues.
Bursting out the front.
Taking your loving issue and stuff it up my c**t.
Don't forget the tissues.
As an afterthought.
Use them to dry your sullen tears.
To wipe your eyes, as I am leaving.
After all these years.
Whip cracked undeniably.
Around my bottom cheeks.
While my fist it bled your lips.
Between my nipping teeth.
I bit.
As I made you bleed.
Your request not mine.
Hell boy.
Whatever, your perverse requests.
You are still mighty fine!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 7:16 AM UTC
I wish the words would come to me
as easily as they used to,
but I fear that I need some kind of
dissatisfaction
to expel the words in my mind correctly
so how do I express
what I truly hold dear to me?
In the cold night with these blankets wrapped around me,
I hold your memory closer
and pray for you to come home
because that word is the strongest expletive I can think of
and it took you from me.
I'm defenseless,
restless,
and I don't know how to protect you from so far away.
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
it charged at me, this muscled bull enraged--
its flaring nostrils snarling, snorting breath,
a steam--unleashed from some unnoticed cage,
and trampled hap-strewn bookbags to their death,
along the closest aisle 'tween students' desks,
while on its beeline path straight toward me,
she, by some scalding fury magic hexed,
transformed into this vile monstrosity,
with hands-turned-talons grabbing clump of hair,
my side-yanked skull and body followed suit,
i tilted right and toppled with my chair,
'pon impact with the floor i faced her boot,
hot breath screamed to my face and singed my eyes,
obscenities, growled expletive assaults
so pummeled ears while spittle mixed my cries,
lambasting accusations showed my faults,
for i had done some very taboo thing,
was loud or spoke some word unwittingly,
and so was hung to die upon a string,
while lashings of her rage whipped welts on me,
after my execution was complete,
she buried me, my grave a league so deep
in homework, i was crushed before her feet,
and made a slave for all the year to keep.
(C)2013, Christos Rigakos
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous
The warrior on the mountain confessed to us
Sordid sully suborn salacious
Only the worst will ever keep pace with us
In extremis extremity exigence exodus
Is the answer clear to all of us
Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue
Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue
Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster
Or just another cauldron muck stir
Mystical magical manumission mandate
That only the good would ever relate date
Fornicating fecund finite's fate
I can only hope it will be I rate
Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery
Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me
Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive
Won't be contained, like water in a sieve
Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled
And all of that surreal newfangled
Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence
How I wish I could float its boat sense
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous
The warrior on the mountain confessed to us
Sordid sully suborn salacious
Only the worst will ever keep pace with us
In extremis extremity exigence exodus
Is the answer clear to all of us
Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue
Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue
Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster
Or just another cauldron muck stir
Mystical magical manumission mandate
That only the good would ever relate date
Fornicating fecund finite's fate
I can only hope it will be I rate
Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery
Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me
Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive
Won't be contained, like water in a sieve
Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled
And all of that surreal newfangled
Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence
How I wish I could float its boat sense
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
Are you kidding?
Do you really not see
The underlying meaning
Of what you're saying to me?
I tried to put it plainly,
You didn't blink twice.
I tried to use astonishment
You could have been a bowl of rice.
Expletive
Why won't you listen to me?
I will smoke you out of this **** house
Until you come talk to me.
Expletive
Why don't you see what's right?
Are you being selfish
Or are you too afraid to see the light?
It's raining
Outside and it's so dark to see
That this life is so short,
Please be the one to take some pity.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
The inner tenacity of my machination is rarely understood by many, an introspections of certain recollections that ponder that question..why? But I need not tell you, about gum on your shoe, or the expletive deleted that come after. So I do open doors, and sit on floors, and give random flowers to random ladies. But I am sucker for a smile, an unpredictable trial, of something so innocent as simple happiness. But Then I surely do jest, at the most convenient time, to make fitting a punch line of a joke. And if merely opulence of thought was my only intent, then blushing is the inevitable conclusion. For if I am too boast, to little more than an atrocious manner, then I too am I fool, and love is the tool of a dumb and blind man's decent. As I oddly beg the question...do you have any cream for my coffee, then sit back and take in the wisdom, of times that are far beyond me. To place with no boundaries or burdens, no dying or decay, a place where I can live a life inside a cherished, loving way. For love is always fleeting, more often flooding in, I grab a cup and sit back, it's time to enjoy the days begin. Cause the sun is just about to rise and being to realize, this is some awesome free writin, that almost feel like I might just be bitin, some style that heard through words orchestrated from past memories flowing through an electrical breeze. But I am no artist, no rapper by design, I am merely a healer of the mind. Given the skills of mental manipulation over unguided emotional frustrations that are products of blinded attention to feelings within the heart. The mind is a terrible thing to waste.....but an unbridled heart can lay waste to it all! Logic is the mind...emotions are the heart...watch what happens when one pulls these two apart, into a tragic representation of what it means to be truly scared, a blessed manifestation of a ****** ******
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC