"fisting" poems
*Another "randyhornbag" poem for all avid fans of *******
rip off my dripping *******
and part my waiting **********
sniff my fresh-scrubbed ****
then rim me ******* senseless
taste the sweet-sour tang
of my recent defecation
force your ***** mouth-prick
past my eager sphincter
seeking to engulf me
in my ****** cum-lust
and now for our delectation
shove your huge **** up me
and fill me with your hot *****
or fist me till I scream
my ******* brains out and
then **** myself in terror
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
All alone laying in wait, for your dreams to come true, the dreams of your Daddy, to come and take you to a new place.
As I enter your room, the darkness is erased, my power you feel as reach for your hand, bring you to your feet look at my face.
Quickly, I wrap my ropes around you, encasing my body in an elaborate web, criss crossing the rope no more mobility.
Arms tight behind you elbows together, I lay you gently down as I stand above you, admiring my work and my ability.
Laying on your back fully pinned down your legs spread wide exposing my very special kitty in all of its naked glory
I begin to finger you as I kiss and **** on my **** two fingers in you making you nice and wet, I look up with no worry.
My lips **** up your wetness, I come to you and share your taste, you lick my lips before I take you and kiss you deep.
Your lolli is hard, ready to pounce, but I will have to wait, your pleasure is my only concern, even though it starts to seep.
**** galore spread all in you, I press down gently on your ***** bone, as I enter a third finger which is nice and tight.
You gasp as you adjust to the size, dilation begins you are opening up. Wider for daddy as he makes you feel right.
Kissing you softly stroking my kitty, look in your eyes, blue on blue, lost and in your gaze, ready to give you some more.
Slide gently the last finger in, slowly my kitty begins to expand, I wait a bit longer as I give you all of my four.
Twist my hand, slightly to the side, as I tuck my thumb under my fingers and begin to slowly press up in to my hole.
I stop for a moment as you whimper for the discomfort, I ease your mind, your pleasure is my only true goal.
Relaxed you now become as I get my hand fully in you, My first is buried as I massage your spot, you try to buck.
Bucking against my hand you are bound too tight, my hands is in you, beyond my wrist, now baby girl I will ****
I **** you hard in and out, you start to scream in pleasure and delight, as I re position myself to give you a salty treat.
My **** placed deep in your throat, ****** starts filling you full, don’t lose a drop, or suffer you will, no more defeat.
My kitty tightens down on my hand, I feel it pulsate, it clamps my hand, my hand aches, i pound harder, deeper inside.
You scream out wanting more, I push harder as you bite down on the pillow, you are for sure daddy’s pride.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 2:46 PM UTC
Growing flames will turn your name into a cloud of ashes.
A flowing mane remains untamed through whirling dervish clashes.
Beating hearts as hope departs through valleys long and winding,
Burning sun, you turn and run, the path ahead is blinding.
You always knew I wouldn't do, so why'd you even bother?
Pass my time by penning rhymes and double ******* lagers.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
Bridget the ******
the dwarf who loves *******
Bridget the ******
she comes when she's *******
She'll open her short legs
for a tenner or so,
and if you pay less
she'll still have a go.
She loves a good *******
both active and passive;
Believe me, her botty
-hole is quite massive.
Bridget's a goer,
always ready for more;
She's a fat ugly ******
and a little fat *****
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
Aerial landing
A Dance of forever
Rutting and knitting
******* and a’ shakin’.
Headache clambake
Twitching *****
Versus numb neuters
Ever been a little of both?
The world tips, so that
Legs shake.
Do the twist-step
Mis-step
Misleading the flocks
See him hover, and
Warm all the *****
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 5:32 AM UTC
it's real easy to feel like
we've done it all
wrong
phenomenal fuckyes then
phantasmagoric fear ragers
perpetual pity *******
blood middle knuckle crush
regretful bets hedged
hunched frozen tongues
and pointy unsaids
but sometimes
with mind wide-eyed
and heart roots writhing
I've seen it
way differently
a vantage point
where pushpull face-plants
are winning lotto tickets
because maybe
we were kindling of yes
unable to keep it burning yet
and we would have fumbled it
far beyond repair
I'm fairly certain
our heartfelt invites
to instant cohabitation
would have ended
painfully
badly
traumas tripping
over hair triggers
in a 3-legged race
two smoking pistols
and four red feet
even Hello
seems too intense
to mouth
and from this
particular perspective
I can see how
every decision made in fear
led to whinging karmarang
tied with two strings
I daresay
one day we might
look back with a smile
that it went down this way
because the initial who
were not strong enough
to shoulder the immensity
nor surrendered enough
to float the fragility
of newborn carbon
gossamer whorl
in fact
I push all my chips
toward that
maybe there is
fortune in false starts
we make plans
but I bet The One
has better ones
so I'm pretty sure
we should sit down
and listen
for that breeze
to whisper
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
Trash bag suits,
****** innuendos galore.
She’s a potato!
He’s a pterodactyl!
Well, she just transformed,
She’s now a sock.
Bro *******
Analyzing bread.
She can’t comprehend.
Snapping,
Shoddy renditions of West Side Story.
Bashing,
On my observational skills.
This is normal,
It is routine.
No drugs,
No mental asylums,
Just my lunch table.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 10:27 PM UTC
there is someone on the other side of that camera
watching you
and if they can read your body language
(*bottom lip in mouth, hands ******* an oversized shirt*)
then they can also read everything else
(hair twisted and knotted around itself, tie hanging haphazardly off your neck as you clutch at the pack of cigarettes in your pocket)
you have a hard time hiding these things
it's not that you hadn't enjoyed it, per say
trading ******** in the men's bathroom
back pressed flush against the grimy stall
it's just that you had somehow imagined *** with the man you loved
to be a little more...
glamorous
at night, with the light off, lying next to a warm body
hands that are trying to get into your boxers
you don't push him away
because even though you want to
he's your lover
and you feel like you're supposed to let him
so you do
and when you go to work the next day,
neck and collarbones lined with bruises,
you try to tell yourself
that you enjoyed it
you fail at that
when your co-workers ask you what's wrong
you shrug them off, and tell yourself that you should be blushing
when they congratulate you on finally getting some
it's not that you don't like it, you tell yourself
as you **** him off in the shower at 7 in the morning
it's just that you're too tired to appreciate what's going on
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
Coffee coffee, where art thou!?
I need you dearly so!
When I want to get crazy
I'll drink you on the go!
GO GO GO! I love you much
What would I do without you!?
Throw it on, make it black
I'm starting to feel out of whack.
Double ******* coffee pots,
driving with my knees.
If I drink enough of you
I can do much with ease.
Coffee coffee coffee
how wonderful you are!
Coffee coffee coffee
you take me to the stars!
Shaking with excitement!
Shaking with caffeine!
Through your awesome coffee beans
I probably look obscene!
Near the end of day,
sun coming down at night.
I'll drink another *** of you
because you make everything right.
COFFEE!
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 11:41 AM UTC
Stare at the universe for a little while, you’ll see
Something resembling you and me: a quite sobbing vacuity
Draining all pellucid stars of luster and bravery.
I won’t be home for the rest of my life, hard as it is to take in,
Something went missing in what never was
That all the timbers strip away at the passing years
In anger and patience that slapped me in the face
When I said I’d never be happy again. My pockets are full
Of icy penance for crimes distance and apathy revealed.
Shimmer do the walks ways in the missing parts of the night sky
Shaped, somehow, by you and every blazing heart
Is a comet to earth: ******* vibrantly a poorly strung bandage.
And every light to cross the concourse of hopeless prophesy
And my constructs of relative suffering, an oil-light suicide.
History is always-already the behest of malignancy, but it’s sweet
The protection as I’ve weaponized every interaction to be,
We could have been cause-and-effect and danced like
Idols, gods, and fools in the sky of our experience, but
The God of Small Things, I, bear down on dis-eases rejection.
Like surgery, the tiny cells bereft of the cause of blood, the cause
Of complaint, can do nothing but new hearts reject.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
**BEWARE THIS IS GAY **** MATERIAL!**
Push you down onto your knees
Your hands tied tightly behind you
My manhood waiting for your lips.
Grab your short hair push you forward
Trying not to moan.
******* my hand in your hair
Pushing you back and forth.
You whimper softly taking me fully
Can't take this torture anymore
Needing to bury my love and desire
deep within you.
hands still tied
I flip you over
Your perfect small round *** in the air
waiting for me.
you are mine no one elses
I smack your *** and kiss it better
Before I claim it as mine.
Burying my love within you
thrusting
moaning
whimpering
Clawing
growling
screaming
Release my love
deep inside.
spin you around
your still in need
take you in my mouth
you quiver beneath me
stuggling against your retrains.
****** your hips pushing deeper
Loving you with my mouth
Realese your love.
Both panting hard
Both still wanting more
what will this day have instore?
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker
in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ******
thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer
wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister
her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety
got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty
shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery
racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions
with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist
ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on
my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone
with a ***** I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan
bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower
like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style
wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like
a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
The mind engaged in logic
I can barely see
My days sudden bursts
I can rarely breath
The flight of the air
Carries me through
The panic and dire
Soothes my blues
It’s the lurch
Of a flip
It’s not lunch
But a trip
Those piano notes
Cascades my blues
A remedy to inspire
I died a thousand times
When I missed him so
The baggage I build
Grazing on those grounds
******* to fly again
It’s the lurch
Of a flip
It’s not lunch
But a trip
Ferry me through
Carry me through
For I need a train
And a carriage
One for me
One for you
One for us
One for all
The lurch
Unlatched
The trip
Unflipped
Lets all have lunch. Huh?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 7:32 AM UTC
i should stay drunk, all
of the time
life and
blue rage
through the bottle,
empty my guts,
spill my mind
through shaved truths.
i'll grind you up
and **** the marrow
out of your bones.
i should stay drunk, all
of the time.
i find peace
double ******* 12 point
until the moment,
in which our lives collide
drinking
until the pain subsides
and for a moment
i forgot
and the hole is filled
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 9:41 AM UTC
**“The sun died every night
just to let the moon breathe.”**
I shivered, as whispered screams and silent pain of fragmented hearts
Pierced through the atmosphere of comfortable lies and prison bars
Looking down upon streets filled with hushed crying in locked cars
******* the words “I’ve been left” in my palm filled with glass shards
I am looking at the moon, and I am reminded that there is still someone
That touches my soul and feeds me emotions when I thought I had none
I am looking at the moon.
It is 2:58 am and I am writing this to expel your fingerprints from my body
Because your being has covered my skin with memories of love and beauty
The dead beating of my heart cannot forget how it felt when you came near
How the mere mention of your name caused my eyes to only see you clear
I am looking at the moon, with its silver skin, gleaming light and mesmerizing craters
And I am reminded of what we were, how we were beautifully imperfect chapters
I am looking at the moon, again.
It is 3:15 am and I am still trying to forget how a love so beautiful can crumble
My heart’s still pumping blood that seems to heat when your image tumbles
We were something real; we were lost fingertips that found home in each other’s palms
But time was too weak to grasp a love so soft, a love that resembles seas that were calm
You were the moon and I was an ocean, and I willingly let you pull at my veins
Causing a tidal wave of memories and unspoken words that left me insane
I am looking at the moon, still.
It is 3:41 am and I am still thinking about your hands and how they held an atlas
How you memorized maps of my surface and how beautiful things don’t really last
We were something beautiful and true and something that was bound to break
Our love was a forest of mixed rose bushes and thorns that time wanted to take
But don’t worry about me, the moon still listens, its light still glistens on my scars
And I can close my eyes knowing that you and I still cry under the same moon.
So I will look at the moon, for as long as needed,
until your hands
aren’t my home
anymore.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
/ you sure that there's an actual vinyl
revival?
it's stirr-frying my testicles
back in england
and vinyl is on the comeback?!
**** yeah!
i tried interpreting an ancient egyptian
concept of a fanning / ***** police
for days on end...
newspaper? no...
saturday nespaper magazine?
no...
c.d.?!
no...
impromptu napkin
"loophole"?
nope...
vinyl?!
oh **** me!
i own a vinyl sgt. peppers'...
don't really want to listen to it...
but, vinyl, within
the framework of a revival?!
july sunday pants...
you can fan me back and
forth, back and forth that
elongated into circular *******
liquorice...
finally! vinayl has a secondary,
degenerate purpose...
fanning equippment!
spread the air...
unless you're me
lodging a ******** imitation of
a ******** with
ice-cubes dangling in front of a fan:
spreading nothing,
but hot air...
honest to god, in this weather:
the beatles' vinyl?
means as much crock-shit
as i'd really love for a
nefertiti:
"woof"...
or a...
wave of air...
a bellowing bull
with rotten breath...
but at least we found out that
vinyl is useful afterall...
way past the newspaper...
or a pigeon flapping,
or the comment section
that's coorporate...
vinyl?
perfect flapping equipment!
disperses the air...
like sinatra disperses
bad singers...
drunk and...
'opely 'opefully on to "it".
is that like: the dead come (back)...
and then we hit karma redemption
with reincarnation?!
limited contra dough-dough-deep
state affairs?!
new delhi ***
new york?!
no wonder i can't stop laughing
as if that could even be translated into
slavic languages!
you pompous
anglican-integrated-inbred...
****** english women...
you?! you?! you?! you want
to dictate, rules for me?!
****** now i want
to fight your side's resemblance of goliath!
i've petted an alsatian and a dobberman
up to the age of 8...
i think i'll manage...
shit-fisting your granny's egotism
rooting for: ahmed no. 1.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
******* my comeuppance.
There's a lot of boring here
Learning new text
Fighting new 'plex
And settling into no other
Life as a smattered painting
Galaxy's attempt at recreation
Correctional institutions of cellular disillusions
Peeing off the side of the golden gate to create a meta golden gate
Ships sail underneath my toxins.
Vulgarity for clarity and cleverness for its sake.
Drown myself in intoxication and say things in it's wake.
Welcome to life post life. Welcome to a lonely impasse. Welcome to a place that God desires, let's hope it will soon pass.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Backtrack twenty years and lose my name
A cigarette resting here ashes straight
No smoke hits my lips
No, my hand drifts in wisps
In vain
One drag buries what were thoughts
One crown and coke on the rocks
No use to think back
One mere note ignites the past
And stains
Ceiling fades to a nearly pitch black shade
Hallucinate by ******* your own eyes shut
Permeate the blood from the gunshot stain
Sleep, sleep, the night has come
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 2:58 AM UTC
he thinks
about thinking
sinks
into a greenish-black sunken grin
because he knows
what's what
this
once-upon-a-time hand
is now a fist *******
object of mine
I am an I'm
you?
a you're
we've very little time
to mind anymore
omit omit
the democratic gods
scaffolded
at those five fingertips
progress progress
we are
all of us
so short with each other
taut wrecking ***** so singular
*do not shut me out
I want in
show me everything*
remember when you said that?
we were at the park
holding hands
watching the spent sun gild it all
I smiled in your face
but inside was a calloused thing
white knuckle
grip tightens
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
There once was a poem
Of which was spoken
Then taken away
Never to be heard of again
Jowl pressed against
Oven rack
Eyes placid
as a holy cow
Breathing whispered line
Giving
Taking life
Incantatory orbs sworn
Coursing forming
transfixing
The torpid
Into tor
One last time
One more
Poem
Hers
And hers alone
Conjured up rungs of rack
Her impromptu ledger
Bowed
By the weight the weight
Of galloping mouthed axes
Running full speed past
The rush the crush
Into the margins
A clever trick!
Gone from us
Handful of whitened knuckles
Inside usurped fist ******
******* no more
Open to the magnificence
She had had
All there ever was to be
For a time
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
my ex wants me back.
i don't want her.
there she is, once again,
waiting, whispering
working her way into my cracks
winding me up and worsening my wounds,
whittling me into weaker wood
she makes me feel like i can't live without her
and the irony isn't lost on me.
she cradles me at stupid, sleepless hours
and serenades me with sweet, sweet symphonies
of everlasting silence,
songs of sempiternal slumber
i know my insomnia gets the better of me but
i don't want to sleep that badly
or maybe i do sometimes
but i think my mother would want me to wake up
maybe my friends, too
and no, she would never let me
she'd want to keep me, you see
my ex likes me in her bed,
it's her favourite place to have me
some call that vanilla but they don't know the things she does to me
when her lips brush my wrists
and that one time they teased my neck
god **** it, she drives me crazy
has me ******* the sheets and sobbing into the pillows
my screams so loud, i choke
and lose my voice
sometimes my veins start pulsing with need
and she makes it so tempting,
slender fingers slipping over my skin,
sliding over my spine
"do it", she says
i want to submit to her, show her how much of a hold she has on me- no
i don't, i don't, i can't, i won't
my ex wants me back
but i don't want her.
i let her have her way with me
under the covers,
my sweet, sadistic lover
and then i turn my back on her
and sleep until the sun comes up to remind me
lightness still remains even if the darkness lasts longer.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 7:52 PM UTC
I've never been precocious
But Predication brought felicity
and intelligence has no relevance
like being benevolent for duplicity
remaining as reigning viciously
until my enemies show complicity
my boss wont know i was late, he
died in a car crash, what serendipity
no nihilism repair its ******* me
so im **** that it remains real
indigenous is my attitude cuz i feel
ruminative when immigrants steal
my land, and in my hand I am
holding the world so miraculous
but to live autonomous my abacus
calculates death comes to a pacifist
so goodbye i give the mass a kiss
and then give them my *** to kiss
while i ********** then after state
i am not a *********
So why I'm cantankerous
Or why I cauterize is convoluted and hard
To defend or guard but i cant ******
the shine of a star til i blow up like a petard
propensity relentlessly
Is pressing me til effusive
I talk trying to remain exclusive
to sanity But my whole life is elusive
So my proclivity limits me
and my ability cause being stupid
Is hard when ur insipid and predicted
the afflicted money addicted will get ruthless
while the medias news is
bias and newsless
but for so lomg now we new this
like stephen harper their useless
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC