"girlie" poems
Ballerina stance leaner
porcelain poised demeanor
lined up for a chance at that old 500 gram repeater.
Yeah, a little firecracker,
a little fire eater.
Twiggy figure, ****** fire dome where her little wires teeter.
Excellent muse material
my ***** optics viewed ethereal
Beauty, and she knew it.
Arrogance.
Noted, duly.
Pittsburgh's resident fire ant, with a grace to match her face
And a whole crew of troglodytes racing to get a taste
So thanks Angela Chase;
I prefer the fantasy too.
And thanks to you my chickens won't be sleeping easy in their coup.
Loop Jabberwocky with Calligraphy
and dabbled in polygamy. purpose:
****** cyst bubbles to the surface.
Misinterpret the tongue touching and hand clutching,
you were baby girlie thumb-sucking
But thought more than twice about it when it came to dumb-fucking.
Pretty face: check
Depression: not yet
Appreciating phonemes, but still a nervous wreck
false carrot tops to bed, awkward with the ***** work.
Near waif redhead. Pittsburgh Boys. the city lurks
It's been a minute since the girl scouts got at me, I bought it.
Hop in the DeLorean tell Lauren that I'm off it.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 2:47 PM UTC
***********
pôrˈnäɡrəfē/noun: *********** printed or visual material
explicit description or display of ****** organs or activity,
intended to stimulate ****** rather than aesthetic or emotional feelings;
erotica, pornographic material, ***** books; **** filth, vice;
hard & soft **** ***** girlie magazines, skin flicks
"an Internet site selling child *********** [?]"
mid 19th century: from Greek pornographos
‘writing about prostitutes,’ from **** ********** + graphein ‘write.’
‘writing by prostitutes’, w/ names & amounts paid;
[the state of mind of constantly thinking about prostitutes or prostitution]
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
**"how can you be in bed so fast?
we just got home five minutes ago?"***
*You got girlie stuff to do babe.
unlock the front door,
thirty steps
to our bed.
maybe stop to basketball shoot
***** clothes into a swish
of the hamper's netting
or,
maybe not.
turn off the overhead left handed in
a single motion, a highlight video,
both left foot socks
hid in the snow boots,
outside the front door.
you understand.
my unseen
girlie stuff,
requires me in state of ******
while you be
prepping.
face washed, creamed,
hair n' tooth brushed,
other stuff,
unmentionable.
am doing
my thing...
my girlie stuff*
starting a
poem interruptus
my pre-Coitus exercise,
just a new love poem
conception,
initiated,
doing my thing,
waiting on you
primped n'pumped,
décolletage clad,
to give me that
girlie stuff
closing stanza
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Panic,
placed on the splintered edge of a dreaming mind,
I spit and sputtered, like the dying wings of
a dragonfly on a cold cappuccino morning.
She called me in the dark moody blue hue of early morning
as if to steal the broken moon from the attic in my chest.
So early I could hear the creak of spider legs
inching for a place of warmth.
Still in dream logic, she was crying so quietly
Melted spoons for a brain, I could only hear
the groans and pains of
the pet spiders on my ceiling,
their so cute and pissy in the morning.
She muffled "I need help"
I snapped awake as if a reflex to fight a charging train wreck.
This time advice came direct from my dream landscape the truth served dark black
and without the vanilla flavor.
I focus and get in gear "Hey girlie I am here, whats going on?"
An hour goes by a like a cat sneeze on a stormy day.
Again she laughs if I could see her, her smile would be wide tired and tear stained.
I laugh with her, while aching at the corner of my eyes " well hey try that tomorrow and if it doesn't work we can brainstorm to try something else. Call me tomorrow my sleepiness is welting my consciousness, I am not much use now except maybe for some mad hatter talk." A pause she sighs as if pushing of sleep. I wanted just one more smile to be sure" Stand strong if you can survive this hit the sky will clear for you. We'll strangle the rainmaker if we have to"
parting jokes and the call the ends, my moon back in my chest
content spiders basking in rays of light I can almost hear the hum of the morning sun.
I smile fading with the ceiling tucking me in, I can see her curled up with her stuffed animals half crying half terrified she falls to sleep drooling on her long time best friend
Mr finkers.
and
Finally the purr of happy spiders lulls be back to sleep.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
the girlie man of Australian politics
had the term coined just for him
the tough man Arnie Schwarzenegger
from California was thinking of him
Bill Shorten is a *****
when it comes to fiscal matters
that's why his statements
on the budget are all in tatters
soft approaches toward
spending will never do
the nation's finances are in need
of a tightening *****
the treasury office stats
don't mislead of go awry
a salient tale they tell
about a well running dry
there are no Jesus Christ figures
in Canberra to divide the loaves and fishes
a certain amount is in the nation's war chest
which must fulfill the people's many wishes
the Shorten alternative economic policy
has great sieve holes in it
the nation's well being under it
would be rendered unfit
at the end of the day
the taxpayer always pays
so the ledger should be in balance
without any stalling delays
fiscal responsibility
is good for a nation's health
marshmallow centered Shorten
has no interest in stock piling our wealth
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
I know this vampire Clarence,
He is a hippy vamp,
He never wears dark cloaks,
Or wanders like a *****
This ghoul is non confomist,
His clothes are sunshine bright,
His fingernails are azure blue,
His favourite drink is sprite.
His blood comes from the blood banks,
He files his fangs twice weekly,
His friends are *** head hippies,
And , ****** he sleeps so sweetly.
He enjoys sleepovers with his girlie friends,
And loves to bathe in milk,
His coffin looks more like a scoobydoo van,
All covered with pink silk.
Im looking forward to halloween,
His parties are the best,
We boogie, all liquered up,
So next day, we can rest.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 5:05 AM UTC
I have a bone to pick with Fate.
Come here and tell me, girlie,
Do you think my mind is maturing late,
Or simply rotted early?
2.9k
make-up here
makeup there
following the trends
next week it'll end
shopping to spend
daddy's money to rent
a fake smile
a clear skin
no underchin
jewelry and rings
so boys will see
straight from afar
what a dream you are…
fake
I hear "goodbye"
while you say
"stay another mile"
but girlie
don't you see
you're running a marathon
with high heels sweetie
Aug 25, 2025
Aug 25, 2025 at 9:49 AM UTC
With Body pretzled up, skins converged to form
branches of rivers, mouth slack and frozen to
a permanent scowl of delirium and manners-gone,
as many swears dripped from those dry, cracked lips.
One of my mothers – gumshoed from the alley’s way of family.
“Get gumption, girlie, because everybody is full of ****
I remember that lullaby, “A tiny turned-up nose, two lips just like a rose. She sits upon my knee, she means to the world to me.”
I spy the scar on my pinky finger from her cigarette.
Could the King be witness in the Room?
Were those buttons of hollow wood over her eyelids?
Wrung of cries – we didn’t see that coming,
though we heard the flies.
And Age’s stumbling rattle through the hallway.
Do you know who I am?
Do you remember me?
Should the window washer come another day?
This stubborn sovereignty over what is reality – the root beneath the porch, the fog on the windshield.
Loosen the grip on this natural plane,
Please --
Woman of my Childhood, harvester of my manners.
Stand until the grown-ups sit.
Look away and bow your neck.
This was called the boxing match between Industry verses Inferiority.
Not child through birth – no –
but life spawned by those
strung-high fists.
There’s finality in this phone-call.
I heard it happened an hour ago.
Treading grievances and grimaces, picking through a flowerbed only to stroke the weeds.
Lifting boxes of Lead from reality to the Bridge of Dreams.
Frankly, I stole the gumption from your knotted mouth and
still cannot cry.
In a splinter of reason – I cast out the fundamental jibes of sacred hope.
That promise held between dog and owner during business hours.
Except there can be no homecoming.
The sickest liquor on the alleyway fence.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
do you have a dark secret
my darling
a terrible brain
instead of nice ***** pink
girl things
you ache for ****** insertions
cutting edges
menstrual swab mouth plug selfies
while you pretend all is well
loving Mother Mary
at the church with mummy
knowing
deep down inside
your a ***** *****
god dam the boys look good
do you have the courage
to admit it
first to your self
and then another
or shall you live
muzzled
as you finger *****
obsessed with flying *****
and devils teeth
pigs nuzzling mud and ****
strewn at a *** trough
you love playing with fire
hot toes and ****
oh yeah
turn up the ****** heat
your craven desires
to be a **** toy
and then the pleasure
break me break me
twisted broken
little **** toy
if you could only find me
your
Lover
Linker
Licker
Sucker
Thinker
Maker
Shaker
Breaker
******
Burner
Cutter
Shooter
Impaler
the one who glorifies
your *** hole
insinuates kisses that tear
who adores your
midnight whimpers
howls of pleasure
cries for help
no safe words
bending bending
broken
mutilation gasms
you smiling
succubus
hobbling over
for another hard blow
your **** drenched
******* zinging
from razors play
blood red rivulets
falling on pretty feet
while good people
dream of angels
you dream of
big cocked men
and merciless gang bangs
a sweet ***** of Babylon
hard justice
cruelties ecstatic
being beaten to death
by 100 buttered *****
legs and arms piled high
and **** and **** and more ****
your holy trinity
no you say
there must be some mistake
thats not you
your on gods leash
burying yourself
in black rocks
crypt of normalcy
your goody goody goody
time to cinch up
veil of the nunnery
hinge on the death mask
no honey
theres no gorilla
in your cave
crushing girlie's soul
pride will out shine all
til last bloom is no more
then learn laments fury
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Jocks
While lovely Eileen entertained us all,
with her wonderful words of lace and satin,
it made me want to answer the call,
make guys proud, like General Patton
the guys wear jocks to cloister their tools,
the perfect size so hard to find,
need to protect those precious jewels,
from errant kicks and grabs from behind
most are just elastic and cotton,
some are furry you get from **** shops,
absorb the sweat they smell quite rotten,
pick up with 1 finger or handles of mops
the backs are weird like gives you ******
when grabbed by the band and yanked real hard,
guys in gym like to snap like frozen veggie,
then try to get you on their dance card
cause now you can sing those real high notes,
your face quite large like you have the mumps,
squeal like girlie man being attacked by goats,
don't bend over you expose those rumps
but it is important to protect your package,
keep is safe for your favorite gal,
not real good to have swollen sackage,
not even if choice is a guy named Hal
Gomer LePoet...
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 7:54 AM UTC
mantra and insolence hand in hand
intercepting the idea of the baby boy crush applying to me like kinetic sand
barbie dolls at the marriott
saccharine jewels in the sewers rot
with
the old girlie i had a tap on
lipstick peeling away like a deteriorated vinyl record's song
let the angels waver, barter, become sicker
and quote 'say anything' as if it's a 90s sticker
have vomit-stained carpet posted
and
uploaded to the black market webs
caption it ****** me"
and let the media do the rest
tired of these wicked games
isaac position me with rachel some day
at the mosque, eve and ann is scratched out into the old testament books
pack the bags
let's go
the hilton's booked
etch and sketch situated on the train tracks
along with two birds together
feet lazily dangling
bargaining with god to finish them over
****** denial, toothbrush stuffed in the dog's mouth
ran down the line, kissing him to the south
lost the baby girl along the way
let the dirt do the talking
gargled some milk and jack daniels honey
in large arms, lucid dreaming never seemed so calming
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 7:54 PM UTC
Toes
A Thank Offering
Praise be to the Maker of toes.
Crunchy, munchy baby toes mommies nibble.
Wiggley, wonderful baby toes,
Splendiferous, greeting the world with sunbeams toes!
Thanks to Him for kiddie toes.
Tumbling, treading, running boy toes.
Greeting the day toes, grabbing the bases toes.
Wiggle in the tub toes.
All hail for girlie toes.
Ready to be a ballerina toes.
Jumping, giggling, big girl toes.
Tip-toeing in the night, jump-in-your-bed toes.
Give praise for almost-grown toes.
Boy-toe-touching-girl-toe toes,
All tingling, thrilling toes.
I know everything! toes.
Do not withhold thanks for grown-up toes
Hurry. Carry. Do. Stop. Go. toes.
Weary, Pushing, Grasping toes.
Reaching for another under the covers toes.
Glory to the Maker for older toes.
Adept at all concepts and gadgets toes.
Slower and wiser gnarly toes.
Surrounded by little feet toes.
Pure worship for ancient toes.
Lined, yellow, and ***** toes
Awaiting a clipping by those
Who kneel in worship of timeworn toes.
All praise, thanks, and worship
To the Maker of toes;
The One to whom all glory goes,
Who fills us with the joy of toes.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
I’ve tried really, really hard
to not look like I’m trying-
See? I am Super Girlie-Girl
for one night only.
Every detail attended to.
I’m even wearing kitten heels
for ***** sake.
(quite literally, I think)
I’ve gone for pretty…
(or as close as age allows)
... not at all scary.
I’ve no idea what we’ll talk about but,
so far, I’ve managed to say hi
and not stare at his hands.
Still thinking ‘bout them though.
I’ve seen him play guitar-
‘nough said.
He’s grinning and I wonder,
briefly-
If I might’ve let slip as words
some of these thoughts but,
since no one near by is rolling round on the floor
******* themselves laughing-
I think I’m safe.
He’s just given me the most beautiful flowers.
The deepest red roses, all half-opened velvety buds
and frothy white gypsophila.
(it’s one of those bouquets)
Closer,
almost burying my face in the petals-
they smell delicious.
That's done it.
Even without a context- that word turns me on
but now?
My brain is seriously misfiring.
Pinging thoughts and words and images around
like a demonic pinball machine.
Oh Dear God-
I hope he’s not a mind reader.
How long, do you think- can I stay
hidden here in these (delicious) flowers?
How long before I need to try one?
Before the urge to lick and taste and bite-
overcomes me?
That just wouldn’t be cool, would it?
Not on a first date.
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 3:15 PM UTC
( )
( O )
( )
( )
_____
_____
Slow the path
The night is very Ominous
The stars ?
They don't look Right
/:::/
I see the girls walk by
Looking so loveless
Acting so mean
You just pretend that they can't see you !
///
( ( Gotta think Outside the Box ) )
•
Everyone in a masquerade
No - one wants to change
//
It's okay
///
Perhaps they gods will come
Or the aliens
Or some mystical beings
•
( I know you'll stay addicted till yer dead )
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
"You have heart, girlie," said the lady.
I smiled but I thought,
"Ma'am, my heart is lazy."
I can't make it love
Anymore than I can make it beat,
But I can make it hurt and crack,
Like records on repeat.
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
Oh
Yeah
mmmmmmmmmmmm
You know you love me, I know you care
Just make whale sounds whenever, and I'll be there
You are my significant other, you are my heart
And we will never ever ever be apart
If I was your wife, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House
Keep you on my arm, you'd never be alone
I can be your Thigh, anything you want
If I was your wife, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House
Girlie, girlie, girlie mmmmmmmmmmmm
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like girlie, girlie, girlie mmmmmmmmmmmm
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)
When I met you girlie my Hamstring went whale noise
Now them Iguanas in my Neck won't stop stop
And even though it's a struggle love is all we got
So we gonna keep keep fluffing to the mountain top
There's gonna be one more Hamstring going whale noise
One more Hamstring going whale noise
One more Hamstring going whale noise
Your Spine, my biggest weakness
Shouldn't have let you know
I'm always gonna do what they say (hey)
If you need me
I'll come groping
From a thousand miles away
When you grow beards at McDonalds I grow beards at McDonalds (oh whoa)
You fly big red dragons, I fly big red dragons
Hey
Na na na, na na na, na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
Yeah significant other
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
If I was your wife
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
If I was your wife
My friends say I'm a fool to think
That you're the one for me
I guess I'm just a skanky fool for my girlie
Uhh ohhh
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Cross my path with silver,
cackled the aged crone,
She sniggered,
and the girlie,
she just walked past,
Grinning, saying confidentially,
"What you know you silly old hag",
The hag she shouted in her face,
Girlie,"I can bless you,
or equally, can curse you",
The years did pass,
The crone, kept girl's sarcasm in her heart,
The girl she wanted an honest child,
for she had grown older,
somewhat bolder,
And she tried to conceive,
a baby of love,
a gift from above,
she had lots of expensive investigations,
but she just couldn't fall,
The crone she passed in the hallway,
Smiled all knowingly,
she whispered at the sweet chick,
"if you'd crossed my palm with silver, all those years ago,
you would have had a baby,
But you will never know,
She sat and she thought, and she smiled to herself,
For she never believed in that gypsy's curse.
Two years have passed since that day,
her bonny baby, she doth play,
realised the gypsy curse was *******
(C) Livvi
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
when no one sleeps, the crowd dances
shining rubies, decorated with lurid lights
when no one's there for you, death strikes
girlie's heads are spinning and feeling empty
in the times of hunger and destruction
nobody sees it coming, nobody cares
like faith no more, but the other way around
your spirit is trippin' as you are feeling frozen
numb love catches your attention, you're sighing
alarming moments when you are entering the club
techno sounds, jarring like sirens, ultimate daring
your head is spinning and you're feeling golden
glossy-white creatures arise from the underground
lights are cutting the darkness of manhattan's mansion
take some, get some, burn some, baby love me
waterfalls are splashing, the ocean, the dashing
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 2:20 PM UTC
She had wrestled with many a serpent that had wrapped its slinky body around hers, tightening its grip for death, squeezing every drop of life from her. And each time escape had appeared to her by a slim chance, luck was there in the moment. And there were wolves too, with voices oozing charm, dressed in style, in the woolly warmness of sheep, but hungry dogs, dribbling, waiting impatiently to devour a good meal. She had run from them all, breathless, wide-eyed, heart pounding within the chase.
They wanted life....her life, desiring those beautiful things. Needing to be full of all the good that was in her, to enable them to shine, as she did.
But things have changed, she scans the world with new eyes, in these untrustworthy days. And now the living dead can only afford to hiss and growl in the darkness. Not once will they get close enough, to lick the salt, and taste how delicious she is. Not close enough, to hold on and wring her dry, not any more.
She sees them coming now, even before the day dawns. She hears their mischievous desires, moan and rumble like distant thunder on a cool breeze. It is always the same, as each one approaches; a cheesy grin, the freak in disguise, with its deep inhale of breath, ready to spin the hallucinogenic tale of their lives.
Their blatant nakedness wants to make her break out in a girlie giggle. But she holds it in, stops it with a little finger against her lip. Shines a sophisticated womanly smile, and asks quietly, "Who are you?" Then turns her back, walks far away. Never looking behind, not even a thought of it. No fighting, no running. And her heart remains quiet within.
Three words....and they are nothing. Ignored, to complete disintegration. Those mutants who prowl, to destroy her beautiful world. Slain with a question they can never answer. For even they do not know who they are.
Her light shines, just a little brighter. Life goes on – life lives in her.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
I need a girlie girl.
So feminine.
That needs to be cuddled and coddled and fondled and touched.
Softly.
Caressed.
Slowly.
Undressed.
So passionate.
Open to true oneness.
In mind, and body, and soul...
Unified by a love that never gets old.
I'm sure it exists, though it escapes my hold...
And I'm reminded every night...
By the shivers that I fight.
My bed.
Sure is.
**** cold.
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 10:25 AM UTC
i am an adult, and i am ok
i hate old misery gutses winging all day
you see i am a cool adult oh yeah
i live my life to the full, like it’s a big adventure
people are calling me a big fat boy, and i hate it so much
burt i am a cool adult anyway
i think i am better than anyone else
cause i like helping the homeless
while i asm trying to get people to help the poor with me
so they don’t be a **** that they are today
you see i hate pats voice in my head
cause i really liked him, and they are trying to turn me off him ya see
like i know i am an adult, but i am not awn old biddy
i don’t wanna be a cool kid, cause cool kids bully, and i am no bully
i love my life too much to bully anyone
my dad was a weird kind of fellow,
treating me like the cool kid, i never wanted to be
when i was young i wanted to be a cool kid, now an adult
i am an adult, i told my dad, in the cosmos
and dad is now a little girlie, betty, oh dear betty
ya see, i am living my life right buddy ole chum ole pal
i am an adult
adults don’t discipline
adults are creative like me
adults are nice like me
i like patrick when we were younger
we joked around together about TV shows and watched FOOTY together
and partied together, and cause of all that, i was wanting pat to
come to the nightclub or the club with me
that is when his voice started saying, I AM NOT YA DADDY
please, i am not trying to force patrick to be my daddy
i thought we were good mates or friends
please don’t give me delusions like dad, patrick was nice to me
i am living alright without him as a mate, but it would be great
to get rid of that daddy figure, out of him, and me
because dad is dead, and i went crazy before dad died, ok
throwing my iPad over the balcony, i still like computers
i am no woosey for life, dad hated that, i felt it was the reason why he died
so he can tease me with his next life
i hate dad putting his daddy in my mate patrick,
because, my mental illness still forces me to be crazy
only rich arrogant ***** are nasty to me
dad was a **** ok
i never really made him smile
if anything, i want dads next life to sort of make him understand
what i visioned, but in the next 6 years, ok
i will help the force treat dad like a shy girl
how does it feel DAD
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Truth
Obama
Terror
I
----
Lonely day unfolding
-----
We
---
Eat **** and die
again
-----
Eat **** and die
--------
SEEKING MR GOODBAR!
The high school girlie prowls
The whatever streets
In whores' attire
-
Where the Feds and the meds meet
----
If there is anyone wants out of this hell?
PERHAPS
you should say so?
----
Oh well
-----
Terror
Obama
You
Drone airplanes
Lies
Mr Goodbar
I
------
Eating ****
On city street
Or
Out upon the country road
--
In mountain retreats
Or
Back at home
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
i know it pacifies,
national socialism was experimented
in germany,
but national capitalism took over,
you have a McDonald and a KFC
in Slovakia and other places...
it's not killing people,
but it's definitely numbing them...
they have no chance of a cultural
uniqueness, this national capitalism
has america in BIG PRINT seen
everywhere, and china in small
print worn everywhere: MADE IN;
which basically means everywhere
starts becoming a lookalike alike alike alike
******** hence the emergence of
internet shopping, everyone becoming
like the rich kids: pool, snooker hall
and all other social functioning distractions
enabling congregation under one roof,
with richy rich over here, having to pay
for a ******* too gluttonous to do it himself;
hey, it's just a muscle kid...
the clergy have a monopoly on the *****
esp. if it's all girlie girl girls.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC