"foxy" poems
I Say "Hi"
A Beautiful Stranger
She Keeps Walking
We Pass By
I'm Just Looking
Corner Of My eye
Foxy Little Lady
She Is Sly
Lips Stay Sealed
They're My Alibi
Felt Your Eye
Gave A Reply
You Said "Hi"
Not Being Shy
I'm With Her
That's Your Guy
Our Little Secret
Eyes Don't Lie
My Beautiful Stranger
Walk On: Bye.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
You, Doctor Martin, walk
from breakfast to madness. Late August,
I speed through the antiseptic tunnel
where the moving dead still talk
of pushing their bones against the ******
of cure. And I am queen of this summer hotel
or the laughing bee on a stalk
of death. We stand in broken
lines and wait while they unlock
the doors and count us at the frozen gates
of dinner. The shibboleth is spoken
and we move to gravy in our smock
of smiles. We chew in rows, our plates
scratch and whine like chalk
in school. There are no knives
for cutting your throat. I make
moccasins all morning. At first my hands
kept empty, unraveled for the lives
they used to work. Now I learn to take
them back, each angry finger that demands
I mend what another will break
tomorrow. Of course, I love you;
you lean above the plastic sky,
god of our block, prince of all the foxes.
The breaking crowns are new
that Jack wore.
Your third eye
moves among us and lights the separate boxes
where we sleep or cry.
What large children we are
here. All over I grow most tall
in the best ward. Your business is people,
you call at the madhouse, an oracular
eye in our nest. Out in the hall
the intercom pages you. You twist in the pull
of the foxy children who fall
like floods of life in frost.
And we are magic talking to itself,
noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins
forgotten. Am I still lost?
Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself,
counting this row and that row of moccasins
waiting on the silent shelf.
7.3k
Show in contented rest
bringing ghosts
company wished greenly
how did you know?
Bleeding on too long
they had to be cut down
from hooks and ropes
in order of feeding.
Liars causing problems
complicated sacrament
with slickness
under blackberry briars.
Safe from hawks
stay in Juicyland
where it's prickly
free from ****
This song triples guessed
foxy playing hard
around leafy bush
only snake does not miss.
Dance my badger spirit
agile amongst complexity
ward off and wander.
Kangaroo mouse prance.
Survival in stickers
only seasonal escape.
Where to hide from
next your sly rival?
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
Terrorism has mushroomed
all across the world.
Greenery here is not less,
some terror must be unfurled.
I 've heard that some desi
terror outfit has taken birth.
More shadowy than shadow,
their secrets difficult to unearth.
Help is required from security
agencies of developed land.
There they lock up terrorists for
years without trial on remand.
They've trained dogs to smell
terrorists before they become one.
Our country is developing fast,
soon it will be second to none.
Full use of the cyberspace
this local foxy terror group makes.
In this virtual world whose
identity is real? whose fake?
This tricksy group makes
bombs sophisticated, smart.
It targets selected only,
suddenly before they can depart.
But few unintended ones died in blast,
must be suicide bombers, Indeed!
Terrorists don't understand political
equations, what is the need?
Now our Police catches
terrorists just minutes after the blast.
Their must be some-kind of relief
for citizens shocked, aghast.
My little brother eats my head,
wants to catch a tiger alive.
Jocularly I advised it is animal dangerous,
flesh and bone it can rive.
Instead we can catch a cat and
with continuous torture and grill
we can make it confess to be a tiger,
with third degree surely it will.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
White is the colour of my true love’s cherry cheeks,
White is the colour of my true love’s tantalizing teeth,
White is the colour of my true love’s foxy fingertips,
White is the colour of my true’s truly delicious dish,
White is the colour of my true love’s social scarf,
White is the colour of my true love's lyrical laugh,
White is the colour of my true love’s bilingual breath,
White is the colour of my true love’s playful pledge,
White is the colour of my true love’s flowery fragrance,
White is the colour of my true love’s decorated decadence,
White is the colour of my true love's delirious delight,
White is the colour of my true love’s sugared spice,
White is the colour of my true love’s secret shirt,
White is the colour of my true love’s purple pearls,
White is the colour of my true love’s shapely shoes,
White is the colour of my true love’s brooding Blues,
White is the colour of my true love’s wonderful words,
White is the colour of my true love’s dashing door,
White is the colour of my true love’s brilliant bedsheets,
White is the colour of my true love’s toxic treats,
White is the colour of my true love’s distant dreams,
White is the colour of my true love’s ring that glow gleams,
White is the colour of my true love’s guilty guile,
White is the colour of my bitter bile
For...
Black is the colour of my true love’s hardened heart.
©Rangzeb Hussain
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
I want you
So into you
Love to love you baby?
Precious
******
I fink you freaky
Choke me, spank me
*** drugs and rock n roll
Foxy lady
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Number 10: Mangle
Number 9: Springtrap
Number 8: VR Toy Freddy
Number 7: Withered Bonny
Number 6: Golden Freddy
Number 5: fredy fazbore
Number 4: Nightmare foxy
Number 3: Circus Baby
Number 2: Rockstar Freddu
Honorable mention: Vanny
Number 1; purple guy
Sep 25, 2023
Sep 25, 2023 at 12:35 AM UTC
Friday- the most promising day of all.
The beginning of the weekend, but the one day that will spark appall.
Down on Mainstreet all the girls
In their fringed dresses, pouting their foxy lips and their hair waving in short messes.
The hags frown as the winged ladies pass by- displaying their carriages a little sly.
Oh, but Jane's favourite speakeasy was 'The Back Room' down on Norfolk Street: the place where the lost creatures meet.
Tin ceilings, velvet wallpaper, plush thrones and back in that dark corner, there is the sound of low moans.
'A whiskey, neat, please' as a shadow in a tuxedo walked towards her and he whispered 'Hi,' in a sensual purr.
'Who are you?' he stirred,
'Oh, I'm Miss Doe' and he lept into the stool with a swift flow.
And the jazz trumpets married the spontaneous harmonies and the saxophone created sublime melodies.
So they sat as idle as ghouls in the dim spotlights, until Jane asked Mr Buck:
'D'you fight in the war?' And he whined 'Cambrai, Amiens and Lys' - his lips seemed a little sore.
'I'm sorry - do I know you?' His face looked as familiar as Jay to Nick. A brief pause in time at that smile.
That was the final chord to the "lick".
He drove her down to Roslyn- to his replica of Versailles and Jane looked intensely shy.
'Oh, do come in,' the desperado soughed. And she walked into the gilded palace which Cupid's presence bowed.
'I have a favour to ask of you, Miss Doe. Would you be as kind to wash away my woe?'
And as they congressed under diamond chandeliers, his comrades gathered around the bed in amorphous silhouettes; watching disgustedly.
As for Mr Buck he was an alien, skin-to-skin with a haunted beauty and Miss Doe- a labourer on duty.
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC
warthogs for men singing amen
i ink my scars with a ball point pen
buffalo grass and ******
they want *** but won't die
i want *** but it's not me
they tell me that I'm pretty
i smoke **** in a blazing forest
i feel as rubbery as a curious tourist
and plenty of coke goes in my nose
i bleed headaches, when it rains it snows
i'm dreaming of a white christmas, i suppose
with my squad when i don't want to feel alone
i make lies but can't hide like room raiders
i cut up coke for all my haters
with a side of oxy
tells me that I'm foxy
right before he knocks me
my brain goes on high alert
i can taste my stomach
because cake was yesterday's desert
i say that we're proxies
i take the red pill
some like oxys
some like bikini ****
some nights aren't so chill
some brains are mentally ill
but he doesn't like to feel, y'feel
tell me if you want a
*** flavored banana
a broken heart from havana
or to drink my coke flavored blood
dragging me through the mud
whoops
son of sam
touch my **** like we're not fam
drug me if you want to slam
my head off the coffee table
i'll choke on fear until i'm not stable
i pretend i'm in a fable
this can't be real
does he not feel
break it off and shove it down my throat
cut me into pieces
make a blood moat
oak splinters suffered through winters in my spine
find you in jail and you ask if i'm fine
i break off rhymes like i break out grams
shaking because of a spiked promise
i wish i wasn't here
i wish i wasn't here
sham in the garden of clouds. when you 'fuck' you want people around
when i cry, you hear no sound
buffalo grass and ******
they **** off but ask why
my box in their face
i don't want to be in this place
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
When, like a running grave, time tracks you down,
Your calm and cuddled is a scythe of hairs,
Love in her gear is slowly through the house,
Up naked stairs, a turtle in a hearse,
Hauled to the dome,
Comes, like a scissors stalking, tailor age,
Deliver me who timid in my tribe,
Of love am barer than Cadaver's trap
Robbed of the foxy tongue, his footed tape
Of the bone inch
Deliver me, my masters, head and heart,
Heart of Cadaver's candle waxes thin,
When blood, spade-handed, and the logic time
Drive children up like bruises to the thumb,
From maid and head,
For, sunday faced, with dusters in my glove,
Chaste and the chaser, man with the cockshut eye,
I, that time's jacket or the coat of ice
May fail to fasten with a ****** o
In the straight grave,
Stride through Cadaver's country in my force,
My pickbrain masters morsing on the stone
Despair of blood faith in the maiden's slime,
Halt among eunuchs, and the nitric stain
On fork and face.
Time is a foolish fancy, time and fool.
No, no, you lover skull, descending hammer
Descends, my masters, on the entered honour.
You hero skull, Cadaver in the hangar
Tells the stick, 'fail.'
Joy is no knocking nation, sir and madam,
The cancer's fashion, or the summer feather
Lit on the cuddled tree, the cross of fever,
Not city tar and subway bored to foster
Man through macadam.
I dump the waxlights in your tower dome.
Joy is the knock of dust, Cadaver's shoot
Of bud of Adam through his boxy shift,
Love's twilit nation and the skull of state,
Sir, is your doom.
Everything ends, the tower ending and,
(Have with the house of wind), the leaning scene,
Ball of the foot depending from the sun,
(Give, summer, over), the cemented skin,
The actions' end.
All, men my madmen, the unwholesome wind
With whistler's cough contages, time on track
Shapes in a cinder death; love for his trick,
Happy Cadaver's hunger as you take
The kissproof world.
3.4k
The gods has blessed me with thee
Ajoke,the only daughter of moremi
Meet me at twilight,
Let the stars gaze at us all night
The sweetness of your lips is
More intoxicating than an in-tact
Palm-wine.
The deities has made you mine
Your beauty is picturesque
My beauteous Ajoke
With a mythic foxy appearance
Even the birds fall into trance
Your beauty is statuesque
Your aesthetic qualities is grand
Blessed with fancible dimples
Your skin is allergic to wrinkles
The space in-between my fingers is
Where yours fit perfectly
Ajoke my faultless muse.
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
In the era,
Where frank lucus was the best gangster around,
Where people would stay down for you,
And bundled kilos by the pound,
Afros and the incredible hulk TV series,
Discos and elevator music are so in style,
Foxy browns and musical releases,
Iconic music we. Never heard in a while,
Wishing I could travel back to when Minnie had it,
Or when denese had it,
Or zapp and rogg had it,
Unsung legends that could get you motivated,
Please do not share with distorted your confrontation.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
Foxy pumps
Visually inviting
Stimulus
Leather jeans
Objectively elevating
Yield
Indie jazz
Naturally circuits
Relish
Vivid suspense
Intellectually appeasing
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 9:41 AM UTC
But what does that mean?
I am the raccoon
Oblivious I’ve been
I once was a monkey
To make laugh was to live
I still am a monkey
much joy I still give
The monkey inside me
Might act as a cloak
Was the monkey inside me
Joker or Joke
The monkey, the mask
I thought it not me
The monkey, the mask
I did not yet see
That the monkey, the mask
Is a part of me
I am the raccoon
In case someone asks
I am the raccoon
Master of masks
A fox I once felt me
and foxy I was
A hunter I felt me
slick tongue and sharp jaws
The fox he was smart
And good at love’s game
But the fox he knew
Quick love ain’t the same
The fox, the mask
Charming and sly
The fox, the mask
Was wondering why
Why the fox, the mask
So hard he did try
I am the raccoon
Though cute my appeal
I am the raccoon
Your heart I will steal
The lion I’ve played
When time came to lead
The lion I’ve played
By word and by deed
When I was the lion
The orders I gave
When I was the lion
Like a king I’d behave
The lion, the mask
With a queen by my side
The lion, the mask
At the head of the pride
Felt the lion, the mask
Was not my true hide
I am the raccoon
I finally see
I am the raccoon
The masks they are me
Yet behind all these masks
Hides my curious mind
A little raccoon
Caring and kind
When he scavenges life
Happiness he does find
He shares it with all
And leaves no-one behind
🦝🐵🦊🦁🐘🐅🦓
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 7:05 AM UTC
What breedeth this thy high rage,
My foxy fraulein?
Why not instead bruit me my sin?
And I shall to thee truly apologize
Right here, now, yea tonight!
For morrow's holy light
Must not upon thine hot anger rise.
Discord should we always discourage.
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 2:52 AM UTC
Won't you shotgun blast me to the face?
Though do tell, don't I make you celestial?
-It's my specialty,
Spectacularly, I see you dancing in the clouds
Spectrally resembling and unsettling
An unfurling semblance of reality
Breathe in me, Goddess of my dreamscape
Eclipsing my fate and alleviating waking life
Admirably divine,
A collision of concupiscent melodies
As we perennially intertwine among stars
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
i used to sleep on my stomach when it was upset,
now i smoke these cigarettes to fill the void of a little boy destroyed,
you say we are friends though no response to text messages,
statuses of shut up, your words are all hogwash its true,
i don't love any woman by you,
though the search continues and i've tried other venues,
the only place i should be is your room.
i put my heart in an ice box because of you,
our love was once fresh as morning dew
and my heart has always been gold,
though it may seem freeze dried and stone,
i'm used to this feeling of alone,
your arms should've always been my home,
your words are all hogwash, and all of my heart left is blue.
i remember the day that i knew,
hey you began exercise, ***** you can't run from the truth.
Alabama slammers need slow vermouth,
through all of the drugs we've consumed,
and all of the stunts with your crew,
i can't feel for another there's no other woman but you.
Josh and i go hunting for cheek,
see a foxy lady and yell, 'juice'
can't help but think of brownies and knowing Kristen Stewart was doomed,
my heart it only beats for you, i know it sounds sad but its true.
to all of the hearts that i've harmed,
i never lied and said i was in love,
though thats what i wanted and i'm so, so sorry,
i can not forget her, brown eyes are all similar,
i should hide my poetry, words sometimes come to me,
without any sympathy yours cut right into me,
like that of a guillotine, intent for a head off of me,
i never thought harm to you, might of lost my temper for that i am sorry,
dried all of my tears on tees from salvation army,
hey you seem to blame just me, but did you watch the tapes on the TV screen?
im not sure but maybe that might be why i still love her,
no you're not ready to be a mother, we could have been family,
just leaning, waiting for you to come back to me,
god ****** lower cased, your crooked lower teeth,
i want my tongue inside of your cheeks,
but you'll never know until you read, all these things i've wrote since you left me,
this all sounds so self-centered, that was never me,
anything i did wrong was not make you happy
cause that's always what i want to see, maybe when i'm the man i am supposed to be,
cooking, tennis, teaching anarchy, your words are all hogwash,
my eyes are all that you need.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
If rumors were to be believed, five seconds of gaze into her deep brown eyes could ensnare the wisest of all souls. Could turn them into a monolith of indiscretion; with only remnant of an evidence left behind in the slithering echo of a misdemeanor. As legends go, the mutinous tresses of her hair, with each twist of chestnut curls, inspire the stirring nethers of a churning cerulean sea. On face of what lies as the joy of a crescent enveloped by locks of cloud, her smile could set a storm across the eye of mind. And fill the flickering moment of acquaintance with eternal nostalgia ; the helplessness of an infinitely profound longing with an addicting desire to offend the very fabric of life itself.
If rumors were to be believed, the sky crashed its soul into the foxy eyes of an enchantress; and although she was no Medusa, it still turned to stone.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
exquisitely beautiful "you have lovely eyes"
beautiful, pretty, attractive, good-looking,
appealing, handsome, adorable, exquisite,
sweet, personable, charming; enchanting,
engaging, winsome, seductive, **** gorgeous,
alluring, ravishing, glamorous; tasty, knockout,
stunning, drop-dead gorgeous; killer, cute,
foxy, hot; beauteous; comely, fair
"a lovely young woman" scenic, picturesque,
pleasing, easy on the eye; magnificent, stunning,
splendid "a lovely view"
very pleasant or enjoyable; delightful.
"we've had a lovely day"
delightful, very pleasant,
very nice, very agreeable, marvelous,
wonderful, sublime, superb, magical;
terrific, fabulous, heavenly, divine, amazing, glorious
"we had a lovely day"
noun: lovely; plural noun: lovelies
1. a glamorous woman or girl:
"a bevy of rock lovelies"
Old English luflic, see love, -ly [1 above]
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
It’s the kind of night for a midnight shower
Because being naked makes me feel more human
Than babysitting a textbook at my bedside.
Because the slow and methodical nature in which
I shave
Makes me feel dangerous and foxy and downright
Beautiful.
Because the chill of the air after the temperate water
Turns me on more than any history book,
Filled with yesterday’s news,
Ever could
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 7:43 PM UTC
Got a problem?
I can make thousands
millions
all up in the ceiling
mosaic tiles
blue and gold
holding down the albums
memories so soft and sweet
buttercream to wisdom teeth
picking out the files with an ax
and you can ask
any fella on the street
what he thinks
he'll say he doesn't,
we're honest by nature
nomenclature
soggy,
**** sapiens forever
loving bones and gorillas
never feel ya
quite the same
as that time in the attic
with the static
in our brains
it was insane
the way we thought our thoughts
touched touches
with more
would have scored
had it not been for the spiders-
frisky little things
squashed em long ago
and that's why they don't have wings,
unnecessary condition
apparitions to trife
made a foxy wolf lick his chops
take Peggy for a wife.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 5:33 PM UTC
Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the light;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, street lamp, amped up
Yet dampened loss of desire
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.
To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractually binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds
So many now that prey
But with a side affect of
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days
So as not to feel
Not at all
Not even the rage
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change
At war with illusionist
Freedom
The boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills
Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Is feeding the loss of will
If you still feel lost -- and war sure did
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines
Pop another pill
Jagged little killer
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheaper
Smoke out not to feel
The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.
Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****
Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation
Mucking about...
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
Church Lady Dearest
Says she’s grown old
“Silver’s not so foxy”
Says she is quite practical
Serious with her moonlight moxy
Now no use
For Face-off make-up or
Delusions of grand magic
Says she
Don’t worry—with age comes
Pragmatism, Sister Agnus Wisdom
Sure bound to
Have fractures / cracks
With such antique
Foundation…
Old lady Golden Goose
Giant wisdom, beanstalk limbs
Sullen dreary sunken
Lost princess whims
Thoughts like her hair frosted,
Thinning…
Says she has nothing to whisper,
Sweetly cannot hide
A great old oak’s age rings
Inside
There’s no use for abusive rouge
Mirage of glossy lips kissy
Thing in headlights
Make up with oneself, forgive, and confide
Besides
because
Your hands tell your aches & true age
Church Lady just smiles…
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC