"gags" poems
***** *** and cigarettes
bad decisions, no regrets.
Painted lips and fingertips
lace, leather, gags and whips.
Cheap motels, steamy nights
sweaty flesh and candlelights.
Pushing limits, breaking rules
naked dips in swimming pools.
Getting high while living low
riding rails, pure white snow.
Playing games & telling lies
the look of lust in lovers eyes.
Rendevouz in seedy places
sloppy kisses, hot embraces.
Ménage à trios, or even four
anything goes behind locked door...
Shots of Jack make it all alright-
just another low life night.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC
Every now and then
I go deep inside my mind
Just to have a little rest
And see what I can find
I don't go in there often
It dark and I must say
That sometimes I'm afraid
That I may lose my way
There's a little corner café
Where Groucho sits alone
Stan Laurel sits there writing gags
And Greta Garbo sits and moans
Sinatra sings for all of them
John Lennon talks to God
Brian Jones gives swimming lessons
There's Liz Taylor and Mike Todd
Over in the distance
At a table in the corner
Hemmingway sells movie scripts
To mogul man Jack Warner
Elvis does a hip shake
Ruth and Gherig playing catch
Bud and Lou do Who's on First
Humphrey Bogart lights a match
Charles Dickens playing darts
A red balloon comes floating by
Andy Warhol sits with Nico
Where German pop songs go to die
Marilyn and James Dean
Sit quietly talking on the stairs
John Kennedy and his brother Bob
Just pretend that they are both not there
Chico plays piano and
Harpo with his harp
Bad jokes float around the room
being told by silent stars
Phil Everly and Phil Ramone
They're new here so they're woozy
Sit talking of the songs they'll miss
Rick Nelson sings of Susie
You see it is a mad mad place
in my head when I may wander
I don't go in too deep
And I've met Henry Fonda
There's images, and icons
Family, and friends
on a little street inside my head
That's a circle with no ends
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
An urban legend of sorts they said, of a tree, of a
branch that took any weight given. it has nickname
It had a place in secluded nature where no one seen.
**"The *** tree,**
"Really,
"Ye but you have to watch your step,
"Why??
"Well lets just say its a well fertilized ground,
"The earth and plants feed well on the,
"Sap,
"Seeds,
Not from one but the many, I heard the branch
Can take any weight, a gentlemen of plentiful weight
Tested the legend and got stuck **** naked
Not for a,
"Moment,
"Minute,
"Hours,
"Was he stuck, birthday suit and all,
His lady friend had jogged off with wallet and all,
Its on YouTube,
Called tree hugger nudist,
There is loads of dents little *** holes,
Some say its all the ***** *******
So many hard ones poking dents,
indentations forever of ******* against this tree.
"I've been their done that,
Really,
"Never again,
"Were standing on this branch,
"What's that look for,
"Nothing,
(Giggles under breathe)
"Getting into the moment,
"Thought sap,
"Tree sap,
"Was seeping in to my hair,
"Don't stop what happened stuck,
*"Pants down skinny **** man up tree,*
(giggles loudly)
"Dude I'm 6 foot 5inches,
It was sap of a different kind,
(Gags in mouth)
No Fudging way,
Yep that's not the worst,
"How the hell does some one seed a tree that high,
**"It was like the tree was ******* itself,**
"Old juice, sap, Klingon,
"What ever I throw up on her,
She bit down,
I, we feel three feet out the tree,
"So that's what the plaster cast is from,
"Is that why your walking funny,
Twenty nine stitches its like something
From a Frankenstein film,
Never again my friend a bed is where ill be from
Now on, she fell in a puddle of Jib juice triplets
She had all three different, DNA tests on all
Who visited the tree.
As a video recorded of all who entered,
Just not the naked bits seen.
**"Nature can keep its *** tree,**
"I'll be lucky if mine works again,
"Mine isn't wood its a limp branch now,
*"Dude you got ****** by wood,*
"Bitten limp by teeth,
"Unlucky bro,
"Hahahahah,
"Rather you than me,
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
Before walking through the doorway
Made of trash bags
A woman checked our ID’s
We passed the booth with the feathers and the ball-gags
Passed the woman selling *** toys
Just a white awning with plastic chairs
We sat and watched a man dressed in leather
He was the kind of expert who understood his passion
But for him there was no teaching it
Beer saturated my white shirt
As I sweated it out
I could feel the alcohol in my lungs
I breathed slower as if it would hide the sensation
He explained to us puppy play
The dynamics
He had his own puppy with him
A man so good at making wet eyes
So good at seeming lost
He barked and wagged an invisible tail
Chewed on rope
Probably he thought about burying his bone
What his wife might be making for dinner
Wondered if I had recognized him as a regular
At my work
While taking questions the leather man said
It takes time to discover the puppy inside
It makes me think of how
In order to view ourselves as anything
We need a filter
I want you to **** me
With a ****** full of yes
I told them
If I were a puppy
I would be very stupid
But great to cuddle
We can admit these things about ourselves
While in character
If I tell you
I am pretending to be anything
I can still find ways to pretend to be me
It is like an electric chair
Disguised as a lazy boy
It will not hold you for long
Your skin does not fit proper
It makes me think of my father
The Clown
Who bent me into shape
With his balloon animal breath
Only he had asthma
The empty static
My inner puppy
Is a half deflated balloon poodle
Ends pulled tight like amputee sausage link limbs
Looking lost and lonely isn’t hard
What’s hard about it is
Looking like that was your intention
In character
Some invisible narrator
I can admit anything
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
"I'm just tired..."
Excuse one for the silence that ensues.
She listens as he tells her he refuses to hurt her
...even though she aches as the words leave his lips.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting is all she wants.
"I didn't sleep well..."
Excuse two for the agitated responses.
Her best friend has distanced herself
...but expects her to just sit by and wait to be wanted again.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting gags her.
"It was a rough night..."
Excuse three for the silent tears that stream down her face.
Her father tells her she's a spoiled, stupid *****
...but acts like he's a genius that's greater than God.
Food loses its appeal entirely.
"I don't need a mirror to see myself..."
Excuse four for her avoidance of reflective surfaces.
Her mirror has become her worst enemy
...reflecting her flaws and screaming her issues.
She no longer has an appetite.
"I'm fine"
Excuse five... and six for all the things she does in a day.
She's breaking, crying, and dying
...but its been repeated so many times her friends have begun to believe it.
Food now makes her want to throw up.
"Excuses, Excuses"
seven, eight, nine, ten for all the things she needs to deny
her mask of a smile makes everyone believe them all
...no one realizing how unhappy she is
she eats...but only because she doesn't want them to worry.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
I await him, naked, head bowed, kneeling
With leather and rope he binds me tightly
Deft hands’ feather touches send me reeling
Melting candles ready, burning brightly
He blindfolds me then gags me with a bit
And through the darkness, slowly I am led
To a place where in pleasure I shall sit
‘til ecstasy claims me upon the bed
He’s summoned the small death from me thrice now
Three rounds; it does not end with my pleasure
“You’ll take and like what I give you,” he growls
We’re done when he pleases —at his leisure
After all the teasing, pleasing, and pain
We collapse together —one, once again
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 5:53 AM UTC
And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and the blood and the black and the birds and the gags and the stew and the stewing and the hate and the cries and the wood and the prince and the tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and today.
Curtain
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
"I love you."
My fingers froze:
dark eyes on a list
as long nails clacked
on gray keys which
stuck with age and use.
I dreamed of love,
sweet hordes of
doves escorting me
to my desire of
love, love, love.
Such dreaming flags
floated in my mind,
wishing to be a hot ***
body made of rag,
a delicious mess
of hearty gags.
I wanted promiscuity,
in all its forms,
shed of all its innuendo
and flimsy disguises.
I wanted hard action,
man on man,
cheap rides and
cheaper thrills.
I wanted to be a little
pornographic princess,
a tiny-dicked seductress,
big ***** conductress
of all his passions.
My flag flew up as a
hormonal reaction,
attraction,
smooth bodied and
tight lipped action
running up and down
my jaded cadaver.
He wanted a **** *****
a promiscuous witch,
casting love spells and
**** glances to make him
itch.
He entered my love nest,
the back seat of a car,
to destroy my frame,
to rid me of my childishness.
My folly melted away
in sexyhot sways
of my hips as
my lips would say
lust filled nothings
that would be filled by
empty sighs and
****** filled
"I love you's."
My fingers froze:
as brown turned to white,
my body turned to snow
and rained down around
his swollen flagpole.
He was incompetent,
inept at the deed
and unable to satisfy,
but it was my ego that needed
this gratification, not my
libido.
I laid in the aftermath of the attack,
calm,
demure,
sad but
ultimately relieved
Finally,
I am ravaged.
I have soiled my nation
and salted my own fields,
laying waste to my youth,
my innocence.
I wanted to be conquered
and so did I receive,
being taken and
yet somewhat untaken.
I remember his voice,
that dumb accent.
I remember his preconceptions
of what this was supposed to be.
"I love you."
My fingers froze:
as lungs filled with air,
and brain filled with contempt,
my jaded body grew
to desire--
God, I really wish I had a cigarette.
I remember how he thought
I cared,
how he though that
anybody did.
I remember how,
I thought I had, too.
"I love you."
No, you don't.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
There are no ways to safeword out of this life.
I know, I’ve tried them all.
Elephant, apple, Alaska, amen.
Tried screaming anything into the pillow my face is pushed down into,
Whiskey, tango, foxtrot, stop
Exhausted my vocabulary against the blanket my fists are balled into fists against,
Anything to make the beatings stop
But they just
Keep
Coming.
In **** having a safeword is like wearing a seatbelt.
There are rules about having one
And the ones who choose to do without
Are taking risks.
We are born without lifejackets, without seatbelts and safecut scissors
Without breakaway glass or rubberized mats
Without any way to make the world slow down
Let us catch our breath,
And jump back in.
There are no hard limits in the real world.
So we bite into our gags and wait for the session to end.
Elephant, apple, Alaska, amen.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
I've been still,
Caught in a sweet stasis,
Buried under the same, baseless
Candied gags, slippery hags, body bags ー
But I can't go back.
Haven't moved forward either,
So I still sit silent here.
Maybe I'll someday wither ー
Like dandelions as they scatter in the wind,
I will feel no more the weight of societal sins.
Staying awake in anticipation;
That feeling you get when you see a road blocked
and a wrecked car hoping it was an accident
Eventful; excitement to see that tar black
Crimson on tarmac
and those trampled, broken-pretty shells ー
I want to be a doll.
A pretty hollow pale porcelain
you still can't hurt when I slip through your hands,
Or when you let go and drop me,
Or smash me into the ground ー
It's all the same, isn't it?
You buy, bore, break, blame, build, rebuild
Rebreak, reblame, replace...
I remake real-fake love into stanza-sized stories
Just to rebrand them as poetry;
A molded part to inspire some abstract art.
They're better off that way,
Locked in and stationary;
Sweet standstill sanctuary.
And I'll stay to watch their models fail and break,
As they too, disintegrate ー fellow ******* degenerates
This time I was at your disposal,
But we're all just glorified disposables ー
Ever-hungry, hedonistic at heart.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 8:46 AM UTC
Getting Ready
On the go
Doing things
Need a blow
Giddy gaggle
Endless Gags
Toothy giggles
Tongues a wag
Dressing up
Getting down
Goofing off
Clownin round
Pretty girls
Wearing pearls
Dancing Swirls
Fluffy Furls
Blowing Kisses
Giving Hugs
Singing Ditties
Cut a Rug
Buoyant Banter
Flashing Smiles
Bubbly Blabber
Smoking Milds
Shakin *****
Gettin Down
Wigglin *******
Goofy Gowns
Keep a Groovin
Boogie all night
Shake Them Legs
Les Dames et Dynomite
Oakland
8/23/01
Music Selection:
Jackson 5
Dancing Machine
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:56 AM UTC
With a runny nose
Shaking hands
And unsure thoughts
I got on my knees
And begged
Not with words
Or
With tears
But with my lips
And my tongue
His **** filling my mouth
His hand forcing my head
Eyes closed
I could feel his body tremble
Smell his sweat
A few heavy thrusts
Followed by even heavier gags
He grabbed my hand
Helped me up
And slipped a reward into my coat pocket
'... this is the last time'
I whispered
'You always say that'
The walk home seemed to last years
Prolonged by feelings of disgust
I could feel the people
Of the city streets
Silently judging me
I locked myself in the bathroom
Cut the fattest line
My body could handle
And snorted away my
Shame
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 2:49 PM UTC
When your souls that
***** the devil gags
And spits it back out.
Then has to wash
the taste out
Gargling on a ******
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 4:10 PM UTC
The funding of my own little massacre,
my own precious little war crime. My smoke
is everywhere. My father coughs in his sleep.
My mother gags, hangs her head out the window, sick.
My cheap *** before and after cheap ***
I chat up some high-waisted pastiche on Alberta.
She tells me collage this and that and looks
so lit up and skinny, it's a dream.
Where I go to brand myself. I have this image
of a spark on my arm sitting stovetop red,
sinking into the skin, losing color as it digs,
turning to grey and then nothing like the drowning
of a comet's tail in atmosphere. My burns look so good
in the pale dormitory bathroom shower light: so baby tulip
and teeth, so how-I've-made-it-through-the-wringer.
Christ, I should be a film, look at me: so bent and bright,
such a cute boxer, such a prize fight.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 4:34 AM UTC
the entertainment world mourns, a comic genius passes on
the entertainment world mourns, a comic genius passes on
he'd make side splitting gags, now the laughter is muted
he'd make side splitting gags, now the laughter is muted
now the laughter is muted a comic genius passes on
the world mourns the side splitting entertainment
to the stage in the sky he's gone, Heaven will welcome him
to the stage in the sky he's gone, Heaven will welcome him
a few routines he'll do, for the crowd up there
a few routines he'll do, for the crowd up there
the stage up in Heaven will welcome him
he'll do a few routines for the crowd up there
Good Morning Vietnam, we'll always remember
Good Morning Vietnam, we'll always remember
that was Robin's finest hour, a rowdy voice over the air waves
that was Robin's finest hour, a rowdy voice over the air waves
we'll always remember a rowdy voice over the air waves
Good Morning Vietnam Robin's finest hour
we'll always remember, Good Morning Vietnam
a comic genius passes on, to the stage in the sky he's gone
a rowdy voice over the air waves, he'd make side splitting gags
Heaven will welcome him, a few routines he'll do
for the crowd up there , now the laughter is muted
the entertainment world mourns, that was Robin's finest hour
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
The first thing you should know is that he doesn't care
He shows up randomly and doesn't wipe his feet off or help around the house
He whispers to me how much he loves me but then he turnes his back when I need him most
He wants me to eat and then tells me I'm fat and ugly
He keeps me in bed way past when I should have got up
He forces himself apon me and makes me swallow him down
He screames at me and then when I try to tell someone about it he gags me and won't let me leave my house
He tears apart my life
He tells me about all the things my friends say about me,
That they think I'm worthless,
That I'm nothing
He said that he is the only one who loves me
He gives me little presents of cuts and scars,
bruises along my les and arms
He kisses me goodnight and wakes me up in the middle of the dark to scream about that stupid thing I said to the guy at the store
He uses me for his own pleasure and leaves me broken and lost
He lurks over my shoulder and scares off my friends
He pulls me to the bottom of the pit and kicks me,
Ribs snapping like twigs,
Flesh and skin tearing like paper,
Tears flowing like a river.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
He goes to the basement, without a word he flys
To grab a sufficent sourse of numbness
To write freely and speak not so clearly
But to engage of times of the unknown and times of Modern times
The weather tide, the things of our demise
And the music rides, and the glass clinks
Goodbye to on time
hello to sweet dreams highs
Rummy is a card game
*** isn't for the hard weak
It's not win to fame when you're
Slugging back ***
It's not fun, it gags and try's to overthrow your reflexes
To misconcept your reasons
Why *** is for pirates and not for mere kitchen writers
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
mediocrity isn’t
something to be strived for
and being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
it’s heavier than any weight
that could be strapped to your back,
larger than any expectations
you delude yourself into thinking you must meet
emptiness fills
more than you would think
your feeble body on the ground
stirs no pity in me
i hope the steel-toed boots
striking you from every direction
leave bruises that last
i hope the stench of your rotting flesh
gags you and brings up the lack
of what you hold inside
i hope old scabs are ripped open again
and your hands lay weak by your side
unable to stop the flow of blood
let me hear you say that you are nothing,
that you have nothing valuable to offer
let me hear you say that you are a waste of space,
an unwanted burden
let me hear you cry and plead for an end,
although you don’t deserve that escape
i want to hear you say that you’re a murderer
i want you to go back:
look into his eyes
watch them dilate with fear
and then see the light leave them
feel his blood on your hands
leaving a permanent mark
that doesn’t wash off under water
feel his body turn cold
as the life inside him stops
with his heartbeat
your sniveling apologies do nothing
but turn my stomach over
don’t touch me,
i don’t care if the blood is gone
being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
i hope you never get away
from that weight
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
Placing my life on a bet
I lay on a motel bed
With heart pounding
And long loud emotional howling
That screams at the ****** inside me.
All throughout the act
I remain ‘inert’
While that pervert!
Gags and squirt.
Forcibly moaning
So as to earn a loaf of bread
for a family whose chieftain is dead.
This is the reason why I lay on bed.
Despite all this they make me culpable
Knowing very well with this I am feeding incapable.
If this is the law then answer me whether in true sense it is justifiable?
My only cry is my body has been taken for far too long
Does anybody want to take my heart along?
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC
Here I stand upon this stop,
It's my ritual every day,
With all the other zombies,
Tired and looking grey,
The thought of public transport,
Irritates my brain,
As the bus arrives at my stop,
Packed like a commuter train,
The usual faces look away,
Thinking please don't sit with me,
I park my **** upon their bags,
I pretend I didn't see,
The huffing and the puffing,
People late for work,
The woman sitting next to me,
Thinking...he's an effing ****
Trying not to look at her,
Or the hairy man in front,
I look at the condensation,
As her elbow gives a shunt,
Getting up from my seat,
Needs balance and an awkward grin,
The bus brakes late upon this stop,
As she heels me in the shin,
My eyes welling up,
As I let out a massive ****
The poor old lady gags,
Pulling up her winters scarf,
Embarrassed by my actions,
I pressed the button quick,
The odour travelled up my nose,
I think that i'll be sick
Fighting past the commuters,
Trying to get some air,
I knew it was too late....
Throwing up on some ladies hair,
So now I drive to work,
Past the Bus Stop that she waits,
We are married with two children,
Some people call it fate,
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
loitering in German is repulsive
always inebriated, even –
understand?
repetition and throat plug
pronouns (she gags on “du”
bleats “mein”)
exotic? nah. adored?
well
they tell me “das Gift” peals a
heavy cognate; it also
answers to “poison”
but Gifts in King’s
is “toxic” not
sorry
are – not – toxic
so flash me that
yellowbird
lather, anchor in strand
these quicksilver
nothings, murmured
honeydew venom
overheard myself last night
calling du but your scent
killed by mein pulse
almost fooled me, nearly
sounded like
the antidote
and other delicious gifts
you’ve given me
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Blood by the statue, cold and dead.
Drug by the demon, my demise they have lead.
My heart has bled too and through.
I just don't know what to do.
Like me, love me, do what you need.
Dead bodies bleed in the streets.
I will consume your soul.
It has taken it toll.
I am the devils child.
A fortunate mistake.
Dementing things fuel my lust.
Whips, chain, gags.
Trust...
Do you know where my heart has been?
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
Who is this old man sitting in the tattered old chair,
Yelling French at Mad Dog Vachon,
Bragging about the Crusher's capacity for beer,
Chortling at the desolation of the British Bull Dogs?
Smoking his cigars to their very ends in his old pipe,
Spitting plug tobacco juice
Mostly in the can beside us as my Grandma gags....
The French they speak to each other
Should include requests for pardon....
This raving lunatic is my Grandpa Charles,
And I am five and six and seven,
Sitting on his lap,
Believing every word the Gospel truth:
Seeing Vachon as the savior of French Canada,
The Bulldogs for the evil nation they proclaim,
Kegs of beer as quantities strong men crush.
This old Frenchman whose horse days are done,
Who barely knows to sit still
Though he is a passenger now,
Beside my father...
Knows magical tricks to stun and spell me:
Pushing his teeth out with his tongue,
Leaking smoke from his ears,
Tamping burning coals with his thumb...
An old man who refuses to be old,
Who sits and raves at wrestlers on TV.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
You were rudely awoken from your dreams of happiness
Like a reoccurring nightmare
That never seems to end
No matter how many diagnoses are made
Pills you take
And fake smiles you show
You can never wake up
It's like an addiction
Anything you can get your hands on
Anything you can do
You'll always find away
To sneak into the dark once again
You whisper the words
That your life revolves around
Between forced gags
And broken tears
"You should be better"
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
**** covered cloud
Come down from above
**** covered coud
Leaves **** flavored mud
I'm my lover now
that she's soiled in sick
I'd miss the other half
but she's dating a ****
he beats her and cheats her
he wheels and deals
He ghambles and rhambles
he lies and he steals
her black eye is healing
she's barfing again
the **** covered cloud
rains down her new men
she picks them all up
and lines them up slow
she gags and she chokes
like her mommy said so
she grows up abused
all tattered and torn
she gets tattoos and piercings
and a career in hard ****
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC