"genital" poems
who knew that in about
4 years time,
or maybe
10,000 years lost in
10,000 multi hued tears,
id be on the same trip-
dancing to the same
shimmering inner grove as before-
braiding fresh cut
flowers-
delicate genital-hands, unfolding in prayer
into my subconscious mind
or perhaps into my hair-
saving colored prism fragments
of knowledge or nonsense-
digesting intoxicating
incense smoke into the
deep throated green streaked
laughter chasms
that are my lungs-
spinning vinyl, spun mind
unwinding, undulating
through string music-
contemplating the sunset's sweet
immaculate form, reoccuring
and balancing itself right outside my window-
dressing in shells, bones,
and beads; kaleidoscope fabric dripping from
the ******* like mother Kali in a Fellini
flick-
peeping out at heads slinking down
the ****** pavement streets-
my hairy angelic form grooving
intensely, spastic-
body flung, strung out in
hot patterns of
mirrored arms and legs-
brain brew bubbling; wicked, fantastic-
limbs waving and grabbing at
tangible tasty morsels,
smelling strongly of indigo
and patchouli-
the East smiling on me and
my intrepid journey to the ocean city-
head thrown back in
tranquil madness-
pipe smoke curling like
ancient hound howls from the corners
of my lips-
smiles spread like insanity, a wicked disease
lost in the forgotten finger painted
confounds of creamy
****** milk consciousness-
basking in lamplight
of the golden glistening
Now.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
"Girls shouldn't smoke"
I'm sorry sir, say that again?
Tell that to the 15 year old hispanic girl who sold her virtue under the guidance of the traffic lights to pay off her mother's cancer bills.
Tell that to the wife of a man who
beat
beat
beats her, because some nights she refuses to kneel at his supposed genital altar and confess her sins.
Tell that to the girl who has spent 6 months carving her home address into her forearms, hoping that her Mum would smell the rust and come and rescue her.
Tell that to the girl who was stolenshackleddruggedsold under the consent of her father who used her body as a paycheck to settle his blackjack debt.
To the lonely girl. The ugly girl. The fat girl. The anorexic girl. The bulimic girl. The girl.
"Girls shouldn't smoke."
Tell that to the women who find their prayers in the daily grace that is, nicotine.
Just like men do.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
A title, from the "Best of the Alternative Press"
After reading
I realize I'm not a woman after all
She can talk about the cruel things
men do to women
**** and ******
Then discuss draperies
in the next breath
how to organize your closet
Female Genital Mutilation in Africa
and her favorite appliance:
a Panini maker
I am supposed to rush into my kitchen
to make sure I have the same brand
"She understands how much women care about their houses"
I look around
I am happy here but
A new cake of soap doesn't send a thrill through my body
A fresh towel doesn't make me ******
I could make a grilled cheese sandwich
The way my ancestors, male and female have done
In a skillet with bread and cheese
If I squish it it, it becomes Panini
I check the mirror
I'm naked, and I see
I am a woman
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
I don't care about procreation
To increase our population
I just want some copulation
Some vaginal stimulation
Simple genital integration
There ain't no rationalisation
For my urge for satisfaction
In my lower region location
I'm pushing the realisation
That with the physicalisation
Of the ******** sensation
Is the only stipulation
Pushing the physical activation
Of ****** gratification
I am hot with the seduction
So no more procrastination
We have all the education
To perform this fornication
Without meaning or relation
I'm not looking for affection
Or a long term infatuation
It's just a simple invitation
To engage in ****** deviation
The heated manifestation
Of a physical altercation
Without an ulterior motivation
With not a single ramification
Just ****** gratification
Of course we'll use protection
I'm not looking for infection
Don't wanna have an inspection
Followed by a painful injection
Ive a straight up expectation
That you stick your big ********
In a prophylactic invention
Stopping all types of creation
We have built up the anticipation
And my wetness is an indication
That I'm ready for connection
I want some ******** action
No mental manipulation
Only ****** gratification
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
the roof over his father’s head.
the rain.
the guardian angel
and the imaginary
friend
loving
over the loss
of toy.
his brothers on the roof
playing possum
with a possum.
her.
her and her mother
separated
by a grocery
aisle.
by litany.
his father sleep *******
on a secretly
fed
dog.
crop circles. eyeglasses. his monsters
led away
by a group of mimes
the genital
mimes.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
i must be the only one
who finds sparrows
amusing outside my window
filled with song,
the same in me trying to imitate
their song with a range of onomatopoeias
never written (thankfully, poets
who write sparrows' song, may you
be disgraced, chirp chirp,
beat-box that **** elsewhere, where
you're welcome by admirers),
the same in me laughing
at the kangaroo hops
unable to use both feet to walk
in the guttering of the carcass plateau of crows...
but there my laugh,
like the last whims of a pope when a robin presides
over the ritual outside the window on the sill...
i find pronouns unable to capture
timing, a class of words for standing still,
they just can't capture timing, they're space
orientated, a man of 70 will say the same
of a man aged 20 about a woman,
but both will be idiotic about the size of
her earrings concerning her promiscuity:
bigger the earring, the bigger the need to feed
her juiced up genitalia lips...
warm **** and cold mouth,
some say in reverse: getting ****** off
is like ice-cream being eaten...
and cold in reverse would give you circumcision
defined lawfully as **** a cold genital
assertion of womanhood will peel the skin
right off... ask for a cake you''ll be welcome
away from the bony **** of your hand's embrace...
perhaps marriage... and that cold mouth
that encompasses all hidden glaciers;
still, the **** is about sparrows in rain rain gutters
hopping along to the orchestra playing only
one tune that's ha ha ha.
all in all, when aroused, one hole warms
up the other cools down... the third?
don't know, don't care, apparently it's exhilarating,
trying to turn men onto all three
and away from homosexuality,
with the fourth (woman's ego) being missed...
could never equate that to a phallus and a hole...
i always felt ***** by that thing, the fourth dimension
once the **** was explored... it's all Dostoevsky after that...
everything is permitted, no deity exists,
i guess a the end is required of such a poem as this.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
Then took her by complete surprise;
Bursting forth into hysterics
I gazed into her glazed, mesmeric eyes
**My intention descending like nightmarish haze;
*Said **** that merit badge
Grandma ***** let the cat out the bag
I wanna play***
She's fixin for a lickin
And I'm dying to get a taste
That ***** glistening so listen
Preheat the oven don't need no glove
I've got an addiction
finna bore in
frictionless!
Instantly smitten,
Her face turned shades of crimson
when I finished with
"Lets play genital hide & seek -
You're it"
It's time to remit demented dementia baby
I'm not so easy to forget;
& I'm shots of splotchy red like syphilis
*Don't front like you won't give me the nookie
Girl urrbody had a crack at your world famous cookies
& I just can't keep my hand out the jar*
Tonight I'll wrestle a cougar with my bare hands
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
because love when cut,
lets loose
an empire of blood:
i have in my lips,
a treaty of oblivion—
releasing an embittered lemon.
in the throne of the sea,
waves repeat the crash
of perfidy.
by the mountains they ride,
the thick air of strobe.
rocks receive the genital fire
of lighthouses
exposing intones of shadow
one by one.
the beast maimed
behind the zither of trees
makes no sound like
an aleph.
i herald the collusion of night
and children
and weep at the solicitude of mothers,
because pines swoon in the dark
and with its hand, the gentlest war
threshes the flesh and blood,
raining on us forever.
hostile eyes bypass the silence of things
and lovers closing doors repeatedly,
disrupting the vale from its slumber.
it is because when love is let loose,
it releases both of us — weary, inescapably ripe with the wind, looking
for each other as doves do in flight,
separate and obscured, opening gates;
nightfall:
the savage aroma of wood
on the leaves that sway fervently
tippling away from boughs.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
Nobody knows how to say goodbye to anything, even the
sea has ruined edges
leaves its will to a muddy bayou. Our
phonecalls hang onto me after there rings a dial tone, a curly tail
of wires ribboned around my most important parts
thigh, artery, genital. The bed
is the whole bedroom, now. I am handcuffed from the ceiling
waiting for your voice box to quiver again
and am kicking and screaming –
I am heartbroken at nothing, not for no reason but for
nothing. Lovers are not versed in goodbyes
or else we would not be lovers. But I prefer the sensation of
suffocation to cold blankets,
rather heat them up with blood and guts than have a
mattress that has never smelled my *** You do not know how to
ring my neck or drown me in sheets that’ll
just hide hide hide the word
goodbye. If this is your worst trait, not wanting to go,
I am happy to let you love and hurt me until I can float, too.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 2:29 PM UTC
love is a
state of mind
an emotion
sometimes ephemeral
sometimes steadfast
its source
an archetype
formless
it is not a relationship
although it may exist
in a relationship
or only
in a moment
like a spark in the dark
it is a function of imagination
as is empathy
it is magical thinking
*** may be an instrument of love
or a powerful healing balm
in and of it self
a profound therapy
and seen as an act of
divine grace
the ancients knew this
but unlike them
we have taken
sacred prostitutes
from ancient temples
vessels of the
goddess eroticism
Astarte of the Canaanites
Áine of the Celts
Min of the Egyptians
Aphrodite of the Greeks
Kama of the Hindus
Inanna of the Mesopotamians
and transformed them into demons
by subjugation to the depths of our subconscious
the archetypal female was replaced
by the neutered holy ghost
the patriarchal symbolic genital mutilation of women
a gift of horrors by Romes Council of Nicea
crippling values written in stone
frigidity guilts child
an abysmal morality
a theft by
kleptomaniacs of freedoms desire
for two millennium
vessels of the goddess
have been transmuted into a profanity
inflicting
a cold homicide on
****** freedom
forcing the abandonment
of a most essential constituent of sanity
the miraculous repair and revitalization
of the soul
through passions physical touch
sensual love
and the release of pent up desire
and left in its place
a harness of deprivation
an expression of a regressive culture
that promotes
a barren terrain
between
emotional ****** insecurity
and the monotony of monogamy
I am a voice of Thelema for the coming Aeon of Horus
LOVE IS ALL LOVE UNDER WILL
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
Women are not allowed to be angry.
We are taught to be quiet, easy, pretty.
We cannot yell, because that does not make us beautiful.
We are taught to be delicate, dainty, soft.
We are not allowed to be angry.
1 in 5 women will be sexually assaulted before they graduate college.
60% of the world's malnourished population are women.
830 women die from preventable causes due to pregnancy or childbirth.
We are not allowed to be angry.
Women earn 77 cents to every dollar a man makes.
62 million girls are denied educational around the world.
4 out of 5 victims of human trafficking are girls.
Female genital mutilation affects 300 million girls worldwide.
5 African American women die from breast cancer each day.
We are not allowed to be angry.
Our president mocked a ****** assault survivor on live television.
Our country elected a ****** abuser to the Senate.
63% of **** cases go under reported.
We are not allowed to be angry.
Women of color are stereotyped as angry without even opening their mouths.
Women of native descent are 3 times more likely to be sexually abused in their lifetime.
We are not allowed to be angry.
We are not allowed to be angry when we hear classmates talk about how they were sexually assaulted and no one cared,
tears streaming down her face. She was 16.
We get told to "calm down, you're being dramatic" by people we thought we could trust, people we love.
We are mocked for our passion, for our apathy, for our triumphs and for our failures.
Feminism has become a ***** word.
But it is the only way,
the only way,
we can gain our equality, our freedom.
I don't want to be terrified of being alone at night.
I don't want to watch what I say around a group of men.
I don't want to feel scrutinized in every article of clothing I wear.
I don't want to be sexualized for having *******
I don't want to be scared of being alone with a boy at a party.
I don't want to be called angry when I speak up for my rights.
We are not allowed to be angry.
But we are.
We are angry.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 7:11 PM UTC
Let’s face it: we’re not all George Clooney.
Most of us need a little help scoring with chicks.
Our dicks—the archetypal genital signal—
Are hidden from sight, &
****** wagging
Will get you arrested.
Perhaps, pheromones may be the answer.
Dr. Winifred Cutler’s Bio:
(As read by Don Pardo, postmortem).
“Biologist and behavioral endocrinologist Dr. Winifred Cutler was the first to establish the presence of human pheromones in 1986 when her team removed sweat from human underarms and found that only the odorless materials that contained pheromones remained.”
Blessed are the
Underarm Sweat Removers,
A Labor cohort
Soon to be SEIU smorganized . . .
Organized, smorganized. | Karen Koedding, Productivity ...
https://www.linkedin.com/.../organized-smorganized-karen-koe...LinkedIn Organized, smorganized. Jan 7, 2015. 209Views; 11Likes; 3Comments. Share on LinkedIn; Share on Facebook; Share on Google Plus; Share on Twitter.
Ka-Ching.
Ka-Ching.
And Andy Stern’s suggestion,
Probably the best for anyone
Searching for a new mate, or
Wanting to move up,
Move up to a new relationship plateau,
Move up to a higher class of ******
Open your nostrils.
Take a deep breath.
Bio continues:
“Dr. Winifred Cutler
Founded the Athena Institute in 1986,
Selected that name
Signifying the mission;
Helping women increase
Wisdom and skill,
Relative to
Their Bodies,
Their Health,
Their Wellbeing.”
Why not a Nobel for Dr. Cutler?
Testimony follows:
“Pheromones magnify my mojo.
I wear the love potion that makes
The most gorgeous gal in the bar--
That kind of gorgeous gal,
Usually out of my league—
Makes her look my way.
Welcome, my fingers
Touch her siren shoulder.
She turns,
‘What do you want?’ she asks coyly.
‘Um, want to dance?’ I manage.
She grins, looks me
Up and down—
Mostly down—
And says, “Not really.”
The verdict?
Apparently, the scent of pheromones is
Still overpowered by nerves.
Let’s face it:
Women can smell fear.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
hand on feather
I swear to you
I intended no harm
I just played by the weather
and found you in shared experience
a charm was built
and I was refracted
(prism motes)
like an animal channelling
I played aspects as bones
when all you wanted was human touch
and not this ;
this baffling mating behaviour
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Two years ago diagnosed with colorectal reluctance,
that is what the doctor said,
he said,
I had a hemorrhoid the size of my head,
growing on my shoulders.
I scratched my itchy ears,
could not believe what I heard.
I said, I knew that,
I came here for genital warts.
******
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
Woman have
more ***** then men
most of the time.
It's pity that
men are bigger *******
all the time...
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
wom·an
/ˈwo͝omən/
1. a woman’s issues of god-tier poetry cannot be treated by carving her into more aesthetic form of stanza as defined by an unconscious poet, nor can she be bent into a more intellectually acceptable shape by those who claim to be the sole bearers of poetry.
(w) heartsick saints and sinners.
(o) a ballbuster and untarnished empress.
(m) black bouquets and red roses.
(a) bleeding screams and convivial memories.
(n) fixed and broken sanities.
2. angel's darling won't make a woman less than poetry, add and reduce nothing, hades will mixed heaven and hell for persephone and the latter will just smile while mixing your body and your coffin together.
3. warning!!!
"a woman is a dangerous poetry that can destroy your existence in any angle."
(w) 90 degrees to an inclined surface and that will make her ************ poison you.
(o) 160 degrees to a slope surface and that will make her use your genital ***** as her pen.
(m) **** a+b raised to the power of 2 when a woman is powerful than any numbers written in math textbooks.
(a) let's set aside fuckery and solve the mystery of how queen elizabeth built an empire without a king.
(m) ___________________(let's leave this blank, for a woman is a mysterious poetry.)
4. a woman is a poetry, add or reduce her stanzas and she will still remain as poetry.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 8:06 PM UTC
Although it was early in our courtship
I thought You and I had a lasting relationship
We hit it off like celebrities at an Oscar presentation
I was totally enamored, there was no hesitation
Only to discover I was just one of your boy toys
More to the point, just another one of your donor boys
I'm just an ornament you hang on your Christmas tree
I just wasn't good enough to complement your pedigree
I'm just another amulet hanging from your neck
Good God woman you're nothing but a train wreck
Now I see you for who you really are
You squeezed my grunions in a vise and put them in a jar
Only to discover I was part of an array
You put on the shelf as an elaborate display
I wasn't even good enough for a seat in the front row
I guess our relationship was nothing but a freak show
I was nothing but an ornament to satisfy your ego
While I still have some semblance of pride I think it's time to go.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 11:03 PM UTC
*because what's actually worth celebrating? well, i always celebrate another bunch of words, another litre of *** and, most obviously: another tomorrow.*
for a long time now i have
seized to celebrate
birthdays...
only this year have
i stopped "celebrating" easter:
coming from a traditionalist
family,
with my great-grandmother
dead for several years
everyone in the family
joked: she said enough prayers
for all of us...
my great-grandfather
took the micky out her in
that lovingly joking way anyway
he used to say:
you and your crows (priests,
that's the slang term for
a priest in poland) -
i can't remember
the last time i celebrated christmas,
or should it be called:
adverts from november through
to january marketing mecca
"holiday"?
but it breaks my heart
with regards to birthdays,
i don't celebrate it -
fair enough up to 25...
but a bit like receiving voting rights,
i think people have the potential
to relinquish their celebration
of something that's cake-worthy
once the teenage years end...
nonetheless...
on the dot,
i receive the phone call
on the day...
my grandparents...
wishing me this that & the other...
and... that's it!
it's actually more painful
to receive that phonecall,
than to receive: no phonecall
with besh wishes and what not.
i grew out the candles,
the balloons...
what is to be celebrated,
may i ask?
as the cliche says:
women lie about their age anyway,
if they found a way to avoid
the celebratory antics -
me? i'm just waiting for my
grandparents to die...
cruel, i know,
but it's much more cruel to receive
a phonecall from them,
"wishing" me a happy birthday...
day like any one...
now, if i remembered squeezing past
the genital skin of my mother...
that would be something...
thankfully, man's faculty of memory
and therefore being conscious
comes much much later,
thank god for that.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
Lord, it is not in school where the exposed legs
of the daughters
are shown; something I & the wealth of the bridge share; This is a
prophetic dream of an AR15 even as it falls to the ground;
smelling the teen's genital area, Teacher wearing
Readers & Six Machines in **** lingerie; The Alchemist's
married life is this kind of a picture
of her drawers; The standards of shareholders looking on the mountain;
Temperamental eyes are on the new
Christ in Bethlehem when 1 a robot
sitting in bed or unknown; writing a tree, so literary to meet
you in ur soiled Garden trousers, Science,
Park Magic wins the toes of mom who loves
to talk language; Bread X.
Not in school, where
were unloaded two daughters at the feet of the
also shown; I think, This means that the bridge
also dreams of low AR-15 fire
the smell of the earth's DOLE,
Six reader machines wearing...
At least it's **** lingerie & married life is a kind of picture
of drawers in the standard cut so
shareholders can see the mountain's
Temperamental eyes on the new
When a robot Christ in Bethlehem 1
is sitting on the bed or unknown;
He writing a literary meeting tree in
Garden hats, Science
Park Magic wins mom loved toes
speaking in tongues, 10: Bread
It is not in school, where he unloaded &
the girls fell to the feet also shown;
1 think it is down 1 Dream Bridger Pass; The smell of the Earth's AR15; Sorry six readers & machines, &c. or at least a little bit
like wearing **** lingerie in conjugal life;
the image of a kind of banner
the shareholders can see over the drawers
mountain's temporal lights
a robot, where Christ sits on the love buried
In the hard snooch of a young woman
on the couch; He writes to himself
& comes out against a piece of wood;
Now that science is gardening in a straw hat
in the Park, Magic wins the toes, my mom's
love speaking in tongues, 10: Bread
It is not in the classroom, where he unloaded the rifle
& he will divide them, & actually at his feet, there is no [ ],
it has been shown; 1 think 1 is a dream bridge,
But what is the smell of AR-15 fire but that
of the Earth; Unfortunately for those six lonely
readers & the ice machines; at least
a little bit; And to those members wearing lingerie,
married & resuming standard drawers
in the image of the shareholders,
1 second on the Hill; the lights of a temperamental
where Christ sits on the robot love buried;
It is difficult for a young woman; In her snooch
in New Bedford he writes in his novel
It literally that came out of the tree's horticulture
Science Park Magic within a straw hat;
My mom fingers her snooch; That loves to
speak in tongues, 10: Bread
It is not the classroom which causes them to inherit
& as he unloaded the Aaron lifted up, & at the feet
of his own accord that it does not have to be shown;
11 bridges think it is a dream; But why, except
that the smell of an AR15 is of the Earth; unfortunately
Ice machines & only six readers; He said while indeed
members were wearing lingerie & standard drawers
standing in the circle marrying their images to those
of the shareholders; 1, according to the Hill, lights out,
temperamental of the Christ, in the love of the robot
sits by the buried computer; It is difficult for a young
woman; In her snooch, I know that Bedford writes
that he has come under the sway of Rome, Literally;
& that it came to pass, & that from the fruit of the tree
of gardening; The knowledge of the Magic Park,
w/in the straw hat; My mom plunges her fingers
into the woman's snooch of love, the Greek speech
Express: 10: Bread
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
.
Man thrusts at night
Some genital tsunami
Woman breaks like dawn
.
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 11:27 PM UTC
Hmmm....
If I could travel back in time,
I would trek it back to Egyptian times,
and climb the Great Pyramid of Giza,
so that no woman in Egypt today
would have to suffer genital mutilation.
I would invade **** Germany
and extract the right arm from ******
so no man would ever salute him.
I would Rome with Helen and
Zeus for fun
just to get closer to Castor Troy.
I would lay with Ambrogio
and the early vampires,
because drinking blood sounds so tempting,
but,
eternal life trumps all.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
man and woman are one
when wooing alchemy is done
when what is man is
wanted so bad by woman
and what is woman
is wanted so bad by man
touch and tease
tantalise and squeeze
till joined in genital congregation
speaking tongues of lustful sensation
become feverishly driven
in procreational oblivion
till peaks are reached
till urges are beached
but fluids are blended
and the seed is sown
deep inside
where it may be grown
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC