"fellatio" poems
I tried
Slashing the wrists of poverty
With an EBT swipe
But he isn’t merely food stamps
He is needle
He is malt
Licker of oppressed ********
****** dreams
Fellatio’d by sored gums
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
It was only a legend, my dears,
A normal town, living in fear,
There were fat feral urban virgins here,
Hell bent on their pleasures, cheers!
"Down with boys' daks, get here!"
A whole town living in fear,
Was it all an urban myth, my dears?
Urban virgins strolling the streets,
Battleships waiting for boys to meet,
Immaculate conception, each miss,
Having divine parthogenesis,
Yes, real fat funster chicks,
It was all about ********
For each little Horatio,
Or was it a fantasy of bliss,
From an urban ****** miss?
Did urban virgins wander away?
Normal town, not a normal day,
A normal town, living in fear...
It was an urban legend, my dears.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC
HaHA, I've done it! I've created a device
That can tap into my subconscious
and translate it for all to hear.
I will win the Nobel Prize!
I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams!
People will LIKE me!
So let's see here....I put on the cap, set the throttobombulator to 8.
Adjust for fuzzy dialation...set the circuit threshold to .79, make
sure the lucid translation synapses are firing...and yes. The next
words you hear will surely be written in History books one day,
much like Thomas Edison's first phonograph recording, or the
first telephone call!
Neural connection is active. Transmitting
**TRANSGENDERED KANGAROOS FORNICATE IN THE
PURPLE SHADE OF BETTE MIDLER'S THIGHS. PLEASE
PERFORM ******** AT THE BEHEST OF BUDDHIST
MONKS WITH LISPS. COUNT TO TEN AND BECOME
A BUXOM BLONDE ***** WITH BOUNCY *******
WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWELVE, CINDARELLA IS
ON HER KNEES AND ELBOWS BECAUSE IT'S ******
HARD TO GET LOW ENOUGH TO PLEASURE A DWARF**
Oh dear. This can't be right....now where's that 'off' switch?
**JACK AND JILL WENT OFF THE PILL SO JACK COULD
BE A FATHER. JACK WENT DOWN TO LONDON TOWN
AND PUNCHED THE DALAI LAMA. EDIBLE *******
GIVE YOU INDIGESTION. DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER
WITH THAT MOUTH, BECAUSE YOU SHOULD. (AND USE
SOME TONGUE THIS TIME)**
Oh My...Ladies and Gentlemen, It's clear that my invention
is experiencing technical difficulties. If you would please be patient---
**SATIN BRAS DON'T CHAFE. NONE OF THE SMURFS
HAD BLUE ***** THANKS TO SMURFETTE. I WONDER
WHAT MARY MAGDELINE WAS LIKE IN THE SACK? **
STUPIDSmashPieceSmashof GARBAGESMASH
DoNT LikE iT? tucK iT bAcK!!
Connection Lost
I...erm...clearly have some more work to do before it is ready
for the pubic--er..public. I have run into some...translation
errors...and need to re lubricate--CALIBRATE a few things.
Please don't tell my mother.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
An oral fixation
Perhaps falsified, as an excuse-
Skin, turned to hard rubber
Lips, turned to lust
A tongue, turned to love
A caress doesn't have to come from hands.
Sep 5, 2010
Sep 5, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
Along a narrow, vacant street at 2 a.m.
Underneath the threatening lights of peril
An act of ******** was taking place between
A beautiful cigarette and the orifice of my lips
Halloween had not yet dawned upon us
Yet as I walk Jack-O-Lanterns smile at me
Displaying minor quakes of bloodthirsty evil
While a serum of scorn soaks my tongue
With a heartless trick of ice, cold malice
Summoning the entire town to its kneecaps
Devils regurgitate lullabies resembling the sound
Of nails ****** a chalkboard sparing no mercy
Arousing the hopeless romantics
To awaken a graveyard
And **** the corpses until they're
Resurrected from their comas
As the nymphomaniacs ice
Their frozen flesh with *****
Painting an ocean of abstract thoughts
Across the edges of their frames of mind
Do morticians make up the majority
Of necrophilia related crimes?
Maybe so but, I bet they had never felt
A ****** so dry and so cold
Yet still the thrill of chills tickle these criminal's spines
While they measure their screams careful not to awaken
The beautifully disgusting corpses that lie before them
They turn their heads only to find a pair of scarlet eyes
Gawking at them from within a cowardly shield of fear
Darkness was it's home, Mother to all its desires
In my opinion it was just a phase; A massacre encaged
Aug 25, 2011
Aug 25, 2011 at 4:12 AM UTC
Humidity permeates the atmosphere,
A silhouette in the dark,
As it rides the pillar,
Moans of pleasure,
The sweetest music.
The head slides in,
Stretching the body,
Penetrating the mid drift.
The juice of a lady,
At the whim of gravity,
Glides across the shaft.
Strength of Hercules,
As the knife enters the skin.
Eyes look into the mind,
Fantasies of everlasting love,
As the upper lips
Perform ********
Stress relief
For not one but two.
Juices secrete from one to another.
The day time friend,
The all night lover.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
.oh... hi y'all:
or rather - how did i find this in the noun Ohio?
i guess after watching
the disaster artist
and no having watched
the room...
the tetragrammaton
is so glaring to me
in the English tongue,
i might as well be
a reincarnation of
Belshazzar
(but not really...
because, to me,
reincarnation
implies
a fixed number
of people...
and an mingling
of solipsism from
philosophy,
and NPC from the gaming
world...
no, i can't believe
in reincarnation...
saving grace of
the Hindus?
they're not lactose intolerant;
boogie-woogie-boo-woo
ooh things are turning,
freak-y...
why is that a Y and not
an E?
see... the tetragrammaton
is glaring at me...
like an ***** protruding
phallus with the added
"flavor" of a circumcision
snippet...
me? i'm fine...
no snippet...
i can **** off as much
as i like and not feel
stupid -
or catholic, about it,
having, in my possession,
an unsheathed "sword").
p.s. it really is the case
of circumcising men
as a procreational motivation,
no ******** on you...
plenty of ******** on her...
and how the east meets
the west...
back in the east i'd be a blessing...
over 'ere?
i'm a walking abortion...
a nuisance...
something you send off
to fight in incestuous...
here's my 100 year closure celebration:
V!
like the Welsh longbow men... up yours!
who? in the 100 year war...
the French would cut off the...
**** index or middle finger?
they would cut off one of the fingers
of the Welsh longbow men...
so they could fire an arrow...
P.O.W.s...
so the Welsh longbow men
came up with V... a salute
to the French... up yours!
i still have mine!
hence? i don't feel ****** jerking off...
too bad, ol' chap,
you've been given an incentive
to find your missing ********
in a woman's *****
sorry... i actually feel sorry for
you having this imposed on you...
the missing caftan / hood and all...
sometimes i wondered:
does she even know what she's
doing performing ******** on
me? maybe i could cut my torso off
and show her how to do it?
in the east i'd be a godsend,
but in the west i'm an
embarrassment...
great in tissue... greater still
in pointless wars...
auxiliary pageant...
sure sure...
glorify the women...
last time i heard my ex-girlfriend
gave birth to her fourth child...
her fourth daughter...
i seriously should have been
born a ******* Mongol.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
Alorè, she-winged orb,
Aidenn's story,
As of ev'ry of all stars absorb
Moorish wars and glory.
Dulcet wings she tether,---
Mighty kinsmen grayed
By unlocking clean of her
Beauty's Bridesmaid.
In each pearling Note
As syrup entwining
Silently thro' her sacred throat---
Who here pins a-singing?
Voyeurs there take pleasure
Leering forward
*At the Seraph's ******** treasure,*
All mastered by one measure
Of Alorè's harsh sharp-sword.
Alorè's wings do they a-part
Off of the Empyrean
Out the dead the sun of Lords depart
The Dawn of Aurorean.
Ancient welfare
Upon Achaean's Night,
Where all the sea-seraphs a-delight,
No mortal can't escape the light
*Of the She-Winged ******** affair.*
Apr 21, 2011
Apr 21, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
A young man sits in a room too small,
Wearing shirts too tight and writing poems too weak,
The passage of time marked by the arrival of fire to yellow filters,
He writes because he believes in the vision of poets,
Those burning angels with arms outstretched,
And a young girl stooped at the knees,
Giving praise and ********
So she can pass
He looks out the window and recognizes
Indentured servants waiting to sail to the new world
Like him
He thinks about freedom and writes
And remembers that all the old ones
The ones who are free
Are dead
Graves marked with empty glass bottles
And he remembers the alchemy of words
That he knows is already wasted
Stillborn poetry
That he’ll pour on critics and admirers alike
Who will stand like gospel singers
Waiting to be washed under that waterfall
Of stagnant recycled waste
They pour on children and their parents from buckets
At theme parks
Already he mourns being talentless
Not being in a madhouse
In line for his lobotomy
Instead rocking with straight jacket arms
Through gauntlets of debt
Contemplating mazes
When he finally goes home he greets family
With empty pockets
But they praise him anyway
And he makes himself a madhouse
Which the gift of poetry itself
Visits on the weekends
Token gestures of acquaintance from long ago
And the young man spends his evenings
Watching distant lights
Blink on and off.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 1:12 PM UTC
In the mist of night
I sat under computers light
Watching moving pictures
Of ******** delight.
With motions so loveless
Even my father would be amazed
At how empty and soulless
There facile expressions became.
How pathetic am I
Not to get off to such a sight
Am I broken on the outside
Or has the inside ****** me dry?
The continuous coitus
Has me wrapped in memories,
That remind me how miserably inadequate
My past lovers have been to me.
I've never got the good side
Of cunnillingus you see
Just been known as the first three letters aided with a "t."
I am distant and disconsolate with life
Relationships seem to end
Once me and males meet in sight.
My never ending lust for liaison
Has left me with no earth to stand upon.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
Pain in the thighs
from the endless straddles
Pin ****** in the ribs
from a poorly made white willows dress
All are things much desired by a pudgy adolescent female
A garment of ill conceived freedom
An illusion
Of frolic in utopia
It was just a small gate way to the mud caked feet
And into the auto eclipses
Of stargazing zombies
Those still relied on vintage kaleidoscopes
All Full of cracks
See in her bleeding ignorance
the shores still remained open
Turquoise schooners unleashed
The tree tops were still aching to be claimed
Reincarnated as a paradise for attractive drifters
Not even the all mouth beasts
can contain her patented enthusiasm
The straw huts break for assembly
under a tiny hand
Too bad the cracks have been secured
The air was kept to boil
and stain the linoleum
Echoes of a puritan called to action
The streams soon hardened
to form plastic shelving
And the orange flowers collapse
to form packing materials
Onto the plastic shelving is were we placed the books
The books that know that freedom
is just copy right infringement
And life is a micromanaging instruction
Designed to make workers eat their own demise
Grid-less prosperity
cremated in the corner of a starter home
Only an anthropologic mistake
Meant to ward of a mass pandemic of sudden infant death syndrome
The pudgy filled girl,
The comedic car and the overproduced dress
They will learn the value of a hot meal and a good ********
The dreamers almost stole her away
in their patchwork parachute
But we sent her away to Universidad
And the world is her worthless cluster ****
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 8:59 AM UTC
Waiting for a drop to trickle down while these ***** on top drown.
The 1% ****** up the whole ratio
got people breaking their backs
like auto-fellatio.
Just to make ends meet.
Like Ricky, he was working towards that American dream but
behind the scenes life was
coming apart at the seams
all because of a fault of his genes.
Uh-oh
Couldnt afford insurance,
and there all his savings go.
Spending eighty thousand dollars on pill that MIGHT save his life.
But wait, what about
dear Ricky's wife?
She was right there by his side
Watch him rot for months
'till the day he died
now she's empty inside.
Forced to swim in high tide
with no buddy.
She can't cope, even with that hollow feeling she can't float
Starts sinking deeper in the drink.
Thrashing in the dark
with lungs burning
there's no room to breath.
Foreclosure notice on the door
Say her and the kids need to leave.
Back to the grind with
no time to grieve.
Just another cog ground out
by the American machine.
So ******* much for the
American dream.
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 10:12 AM UTC
Every limerick follows a ratio
like, Alas, poor Yorick, Horatio
you've known them before
then after line four
they predicatably end with ********
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Drinking down your melted chalk,
yet always choke it down.
Which of your nicotine stained lies,
inside this belly's grown?
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
When a woman is *****
She hides from the cynical eyes.
I went to work
Made idle chitchat
Wrote copays.
Most women avoid ***
And cringe at the thought of ********
I take part in *** compulsively
Crave male attention
I'm engaged nearly every night.
Some go to meetings
To share their struggles.
I don't want to hear your problems
Do not wish to share my own
I offer no support nor input.
**** victims are fragile
They break fairly easily.
I do not break
Nor do I crack
I just am.
I do not fit the description
Of victim nor survivor.
I question myself daily
Was it ****
Or an overreaction?
Most women cry
They seek comfort
They long for understanding
And justice.
I do not.
Am I a victim too?
A survivor?
Neurotic?
Anyone?
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 6:22 PM UTC
When a man gave a ride to a stranger, she wanted to perform ********
But he is a gentleman who has high moral standards so he said no.
He said no because it was sinful and dangerous.
When he said no, she got mad and began to cuss.
Even if he didn't have morals, he would've said no because of the possibility of a car crash.
And he figured that a woman who would do that to a stranger had to be a piece of trash.
He pulled over and sat her out on the side of the road.
She was screaming cuss words and was mad enough to explode.
Morality is something that this gentleman doesn't lack.
If I ever meet that man, I'll give him a pat on the back.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
kurwa? why did i include the word kurwa in the sentence? it's a conjunction: i / and.
sometimes you wonder why certain
consonants don't have applicable
diacritical marks...
for example the word: bydło /
cattle -
because that's what you say
of people who clearly, rather,
make language pristine when
doing ******** and sniffing up an ****
here... we find the b without the acute
stress.. bydło -
cattle, readied for the slaughterhouses;
nar kan haczyk na błazna!
idzie tuman! i zanim horongiew wron!
i wonder as to why they keep their
vocabulary freed from taboo and insistent on
herr censor -
oh right, 'cos it has to look
and sound "pretty", right?
**** 'em... i'll speak the worsened type
of peasant... i'll talk pheasant,
i'll talk peacock, and you do your little
**** should i care.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
I Am Dead Inside Because You're so into Science
I cAn't hiDe mY feElinGs abOuT yoU All I Wanna Do
Fireworks! and ******** Are you on a boat?
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
it's wet, it glistens, it glitters
listen to your ********
don't quit
that fella's hellacious
give him head
hella ********
don't be coy
tell him where to stick it
tell him to lick it
tell him to search & destroy
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
*I don't do "love" nor do I believe in it
So I'll say that I am wildly and erotically attracted to them.
The strip clubs happen to be my church because as Jay-Z & Kanye once said "Ain't No Church In The Wild" and in the wild the laws of attraction exist only in the minds of dreamers
Everything about a stripper's lifestyle excites me endlessly
It's arousing to watch the ****** chemistry of their legs gently touching as they walk back and forth between stages.
I just want to kiss all of them between their pretty thighs and to have the miracles of their little ******* sing sweet *** to the sins of my mouth
The first thing I usually notice about a stripper is the *** because I'm an *** man and I get a small but nice amount of stimulation from the way the cheeks swing back and forth when they are on the move. Makes me just want to bend them over, spread their cheeks and just lick their **** little buttholes all night long (if they're clean of course)
I also love when they shake their ******* in front of me. The intense ****** satisfaction I get as they swing back and forth is ******* mesmerizing. The ******* are my breaking point because that's when I lose all control especially when they rub them and moan for me a little.
I particularly love watching them as they smoke their cigarettes. I always imagine my **** being in place of those cigarettes. ******** on a **** is far healthier.
Lastly I just love every inch of flawless skin that they display.
I don't give a **** about you ******* crying "She/he's a ***** "She/he has mommy/daddy issues." "She has AIDS/HIV
Strippers are beautiful to me.*
*And I look at them as humans with higher *** drives, doper personalities and better social skills than you.*
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC
You light up your cigar
like a smooth jaguar on the hunt.
As if you were savoring
every moment of it to a tee.
Down to business with no
horsing around. A better
***** cannot do a better job
like you are right now,
even on a good day. Yes, sir.
I knew when I saw them lips
that you would light my cigar
on extreme fire. Oh yeah,
and that right there is a good
thing. You give the best ********
in town. The best that I ever
had in a while. Just keep it
the same when you come back
next week to smoke my cigar
again. I am glad you swallow
all that good milk when you smoke.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
the current theme is: as long as everyone's laughing
we'll be fine from having a thought -
who needs thinking when everyone's
laughing uninhibited or inhibited (by manners)? conformity is
the parlance and the norm is piracy -
so if the only thing worse than fascism is panic
why is panic spreading?
panic attacks fascism, it doesn't attack communism,
if we're experiencing an exercise in panic
we're also experiencing fascism -
isn't Islam making us assured in our former basking
in the Ibiza suntan of conquering something
but at the same time awaking a beast of some sort?
communism kept strong long enough
gave us the Chinese one-child policy -
can the western idiots please process their self-fellatio
and shut up for a decade until president Reagan
shows up a second time along the resurrection lines
of fascination with the book of revelation?!
the English girls can't cook!
ready meals and Burger King - a wedding
in the fabled Bermuda Delta.
honestly, my **** is more edible than their cooking -
somehow fascism failed in the English insomniac sphere...
it was all about family... well... it still is...
as long as there's two men and a surrogate *****
and i'm pretty sure that didn't come from
St. John Paul II's brothels.
fascists also come along with the words: you're being too
reactionary... and the reply is... ever work
in a construction site you 9 to 5 goldfish?
oh right... you're the ******* leech ******* up
for inheritance brokering a non-existent inheritance tax:
******* gonna ssssscream oil me up when you
cremate your pa.
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
I’d been reading about boy insemination in the Sambia, Papau New Guinea. As a ritual rite of passage in this war-torn enclave, boys aged 8 to 10 were taken from their mothers to become men. This ritual included things a Westerner couldn’t fathom doing to a child - shoving sugar cane up their noses until they poured blood, forcing them to **** flutes to mimic ******** and ultimately, swallowing “male milk,” their sponsors’ ********* which according to tradition will rid them of their evil mothers’ poison and make them warriors.
Heavy ****
You know the response that happens in your body when you experience the luxury of your food begin too hot? You kind of breath in and out, rapidly, mouth open, until the food cools down? Sitting in the cafeteria, eating a bowl of vegetables and quinoa created in a vegan space certifying no cross-contamination, I found myself making this face. This stupid, ***** “oh no my mouth may feel weird for a day or two” reflex that immediately made me sick.
I decided to close my mouth. To lean into the fleeting, no-more-than-inconvenient pain instead of running from it.
I think it may have changed my life.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
The Gansevoort Hotel is where he chose to meet.
I followed the travel directions which he texted and I showed up on time.
I was led into the suite and waited an hour; the diplomat was late.
I was forewarned that in the event that he did not appear, that I was to stay put, enjoy the room for the night, all services and non-services or room charges would be handled at his end, privately, of course.
This is not the norm for me so please don't get it wrong!
It was nothing more than a business transaction behind closed doors, between two consenting adults.
But, as it turned out, I fell asleep, there was no ******** I devoured my breakfast the following morning, still got paid and hopped on a Bronx-bound train, home.
That was the easiest soldi I have ever made.
I never heard from the diplomat again.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC