"guest" poems
Grandpa sits in his favorite chair,
Spots his granddaughter and starts to stare,
Whips out his **** and starts to stroke,
He knows it’s his granddaughter he wants to poke,
Calls her over and says, “Pretty please.”
Come on granddaughter get on your knees,
She does as she’s told and ***** him with zest,
Because she knows ****** is best.
Uncle Roy decides to give it a whirl,
He likes to dress his nephew up as a girl,
Likes to see him in silk and lace,
Lipstick and makeup on his face,
Imagining him with heels on his feet,
As he sits there and starts to stroke his meat,
He’d love to put him to the test,
Because he knows ****** is best.
Mother decides to get in on the act,
Her and her son have a special pact,
While her husbands at work she gets in his bed,
Pulls down his pants and starts giving him head,
Son likes his mom dressed up in her lace,
As he shoots his load all over her face,
He knows his mom is better than the rest,
Because he knows ****** is best.
Sister and brother are a special pair,
It’s more than a last name these two share,
Brother Bill can’t believe his luck,
Having a sister that likes to ****
Says, “Hey Sis, come on over here.”
As he bends her over and takes her rear,
Going at it like animals it becomes a real fuckfest,
Because they both know ****** is best.
Father can’t believe his daughter is so kind,
She’s on her knees as he takes her behind,
She moans and screams and starts to cry,
Says, “Hey Daddy, you’re my kind of guy.”
Daddy tells her ****** is the better way,
It’s a game the whole family can play,
Daddy treats his daughter like an honored guest,
Because they both know ****** is best.
11-27-09b.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
Ah yes, the magic of human touch,
Trusting to warm my soul's skin
Tis nature of loves connection, as such.
My body accepts, oh if you only knew
Like an honored guest, I grin
Anticipating the pleasures, one of the few.
Skin to skin, our bodies converse.
Uninhabited, my mind wander
Deep inside, my craving thirsts.
Artful hands sculpt with purpose
Lulling layers open, you're quite the artist
Soothing caress melt my body formless
I'm yours, silently, I surrender.
As my flesh cries out for more
Arching waves of splendor
Rewarded my senses sated.
With newfound clarity reborn
Mind, body and spirit replenished.
I thank you for your gift of touch.
Lovingly, I would return the favor,
as such.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Now I ask you to join me
Now you celebrate
Not being me. Not being you
Only Us for the great
UN
load!
DIS
arm!
EN
large!
OUT
side!
Some steps I will take
Be my guest
Pull your anchor
Out of the lake
We're
In the room
In the building
In the crowded city
In the country with thousands of cities
The country shares the continent with an enemy nation
The two rivals are carried round and round by the Earth's endless rotation
The Earth obeys the master’s magnetic line, burning since uncountable clock time
The sun is blind to his insignificance too, ignoring billions of other star mates, it can’t see through
Immeasurable it seems, magnifying! All of them such tiny little parts in one of Miss Milky’s arms
Some light years away there they are: Pinwheel, Cartwheel, Black Eye, Andromeda and Cigar
Unmeasurable it seems, humongous! All of them such a fading little part of the cosmos
There you are
Floating from a distance
Feel the empty ground
Drink from the fountain of existence
Still blind to insignificance?
Still convinced about the rightness of imposed beliefs?
Still judging others’ defects according to our pretentious and vain mind?
Still punching away the different, protecting the mold?
Still reinforcing illusory antagonism and insignia?
Still seeing only two sides?
Still holding to the pride?
Still
In the ******* room
Am I? Are you?
Let's try it again
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
436
The Wind—tapped like a tired Man—
And like a Host—”Come in”
I boldly answered—entered then
My Residence within
A Rapid—footless Guest—
To offer whom a Chair
Were as impossible as hand
A Sofa to the Air—
No Bone had He to bind Him—
His Speech was like the Push
Of numerous Humming Birds at once
From a superior Bush—
His Countenance—a Billow—
His Fingers, as He passed
Let go a music—as of tunes
Blown tremulous in Glass—
He visited—still flitting—
Then like a timid Man
Again, He tapped—’twas flurriedly—
And I became alone—
17k
let me explain
what makes you think
I ate the cake... well...
I had a little tea party
this afternoon at three
twas very small
three guest in all
just I myself and me
myself ate all the sandwiches
while I drunk all the tea
twas also I who at the pie
and passed the cake to me
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 1:13 AM UTC
The night is young
& full of rest
I can’t describe the
way she’s dress’d
She’ll pander to some strange
requests
Anything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest
13.9k
"Hello, remember me?"
Her anxiety says to her every single day.
"Hello, remember me?"
There it is again. It is an unwanted guest that always seems to come up at the worst times.
Anxiety.
It is like a bug.
An infestation deep inside her, with no way out and it controls her each an every day.
It controls her..
every thought she think..
every word she says..
But more importantly,
it controls every thought she DOESN'T think
and every word she DOESN'T say.
It keeps her from things, not even giving her the option to choose for herself.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
Your body is a vacation, the perfect
spot to getaway.
Over the mound of your thigh the sun is
high & the fun has yet to begin.
I love how your skin feels between my hands.
How small you make everything around feel.
I apologize for putting you off for so long.
A year or two from now, I won't regret
how fast I packed my bag & left to
come visit.
A year or two from now, I'll tell everyone my favorite place to vacate.
How easy the language was to learn,
To bathe in the sun of your smile &
splash in the ocean of your body.
The weather is always perfect,
The adventures that await beneath your dress.
I apologize for putting you off for so
long.
A year or two from now, I'll still remember the smell of fresh peaches,
Served in thick nectar.
Compliments of being the perfect guest, the first to check in &
the last to leave.
Still viewing the sights, things that'll
last twenty years from now, without
hesitation or worry.
The only thing left to unpack is you
& Memories of you
Jul 3, 2021
Jul 3, 2021 at 12:02 AM UTC
we were at this table,
men and women,
after dinner.
somehow
the conversation got
around to
***
one of the ladies
stated firmly that
the only cure for
***
was old
age.
there were other
remarks
that I have
forgotten,
except for one
which came from this
German guest
once married,
now divorced
also, I had seen
him with
any number of
beautiful young
girlfriends.
anyhow, after quietly
listening
to our conversation
for some time
he asked us,
"what's ***
now here was one
truly touched
by
the angels.
the light was so
bright
we
all looked
away.
12.3k
Jealousy used to be a girl with puppy eyes and braided hair.
She lurks around the dark side of the room
Waiting for someone to notice but they kept on denying her existence.
Jealous? No.
That’s all she could hear.
‘Til she grew bigger. She now has longer nails, no... claws.
Her messy curls showed up after taking off her braids.
Longer limbs and shorter temper. She screams loud.
By the back of her head, she wanted to be noticed.
She crawled around the whole room. Asking for attention.
And I noticed her. So is the name she whispers in my ear.
The sound is not loud now, but deafening.
It didn’t have sharp edges, but it cut me through.
That, did not made me bleed and cry. It did not make me weak, or so I thought.
But made me furious. She’s slowly reaching out for my hand. I had doubts but, I reached back to her. She stood, emotionless, while I unconsciously threw a plate across the room. I cried. But not in agony. In anger. For sure. I can feel flames rushing through my veins like a waterfall.
Jealousy is like a monster under the empty bed for so long that it learned how to dream.
Jealousy is like termites, slowly chewing off the walls where I used to carve our names with a small blade, I used to use to cut myself.
Jealousy is a box of “What If’s”
A box full of surprises and one of them... called, “assumptions”
Assumptions you thought were visions of the negative things.
Negative things you’re scared to happen. Or even to think about.
Jealousy thought your fear how to grow bigger.
They’re friends now.
And every walk she makes, Jealousy brought along Fear.
They try to pay you visits in your room, that you seem to stay a lot in now. This is the room where I used to watch cartoons and once fell from the rope you tied on the ceiling. It wasn’t that strong. The rope, the ceiling, and me.
It used to be just short visits, now they got themselves their own sofa bed lying next to your queen-sized mattress.
But I wanted them to leave.
As I see him packing his bags and opening the bathroom door to get his toothbrush.
I wanted them to leave.
But Jealousy invited a guest.
Jealousy invited Pride.
He left//
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
I deserve to be happy,
But the world is too scrappy;
I deserve to be pampered,
But people always hammered;
I deserve to be loved,
But I always lost my beloveds;
I deserve a precious friendship,
But always got hardship;
I deserve more time,
As to my destiny I need to climb;
I deserve to be heard,
But soon as comes a warning word;
I deserve a good rest,
But I'm lingering like an unloved guest;
I deserve to be respected,
And that's what I always expected;
I deserve to have what I have,
As that's only what the world gave;
But even that's not in my luck,
I'm totally stuck;
I deserve to suffer,
As I had been a lover.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
What puts a smile on my face
is a smile on yours
When we sit and talk
and your problems you pour
I like you even more
when the same you do for me
When you say, "I understand,"
you're the friend of the century
I welcome your presence
because every moment counts
Time with you is like love
taken in large amounts
There's no such thing as too close
You never stray too far
What I really like about ya
is that you know who you are
You never spend your time
trying to convince others
that you are nice and kind
You just let them discover
We know where we stand
Outsiders need not apply
They see not what I do
when looking at your eyes
We connect on a level
different than most
You're my constant guest
I'm proud to be your host
You and me together
is so uncomparable;
what dreams are made of
or a love parable
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
I should've guessed, I should've known.
If there's a lightning, thunder will come.
That I was a guest, this wasn't my home,
but I was just too afraid to be alone.
Winds might change after tomorrow
and the sea my pain could somehow swallow.
But today there's this mountain of sorrow,
that blocks the sun, and makes me feel hollow.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
As Autumn approaches,
my mind drifts to the decaying leaves,
Halloween,
the cool, crisp breeze...
The communal understanding that eternal heaven comes only with
death—
that Summer must always go.
And that beloved Autumn must always usher in bitter Winter who lays the foundations
for an exalted Spring.
Oh hell...I hope for a long Autumn, I want to make it stay—
like a host who lectures his party guest for too long
so he won't look at his watch.
Oh how I need the frumpy sweaters and pumpkin heads on window sills!
Oh how I need the billowing steam from milky beige cocoa,
the misty light rain in the gray of the morning,
the high canopy of fleshy red flakes!
And echoes of children laughing as they eat candy on their way home from trick-or-treating—reminding me that life can be enjoyed
with sacred rituals and good company.
I need Autumn personified—
a cool-headed, crackling-fireplace-girl.
A quilt-maker, cloud-gazer, two-dogs-and-a-cat bookworm.
Someone comforting like oatmeal.
Someone surprising like the first day of school.
I need Autumn.
I need Autumn but it never seems to need me too.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
Escape pods
Ferried fears
Gaping heart
Falling tears
Dishevelled mind
Emotional unrest
Watered ground
Familiar guest
Questioned answers
Unanswered questions
Glassy eyes
Increased tension
Dissipating hope
Chewed confidence
Broken spirit
Unwelcomed sentence
Failing health
Unstable mind
Choked fingers
Flying blind
Pathetic plea
Stretched thin
Battered insides
Uncomfortable skin
Eventual stop
Frightful frights
Perceived freedom
Within sight
Bruised being
Absent gods
Relying upon
Escape pods
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.
She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.
Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.
A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.
Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.
Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”
The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
**Tell no one else, only the wise
For the crowd will sneer at one
I wish to praise what is fully alive,
What longs to flame toward death.
When the calm enfolds the love-nights
That created you, where you have created
A feeling from the Unknown steals over you
While the tranquil candle burns.
You remain no longer caught
In the peneumbral gloom
You are stirred and new, you desire
To soar to higher creativity.
No distance makes you ambivalent.
You come on wings, enchanted
In such hunger for light, you
Become the butterfly burnt to nothing.
So long as you have not lived this:
To die is to become new,
You remain a gloomy guest
On the dark earth.**
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
I am too close for him to dream about me.
I'm not flying over him, not fleeing him
under the roots of trees. I am too close.
Not with my voice sings the fish in the net.
Not from my finger rolls the ring.
I am too close. A large house is on fire
without my calling for help. Too close
for a bell dangling from my hair to chime.
Too close for me to enter as a guest
before whom the walls part.
Never again will I die so readily,
so far beyond the flesh, so inadvertently
as once in his dream. I am too close,
too close—I hear the hiss
and see the glittering husk of that word,
as I lie immobilized in his embrace. He sleeps,
more available at this moment
to the ticket lady of a one-lion traveling circus
seen but once in his life
than to me lying beside him.
Now a valley grows for her in him, ochre-leaved,
closed off by a snowy mountain
in the azure air. I am too close
to fall out of the sky for him. My scream
might only awaken him. Poor me,
limited to my own form,
but I was a birch tree, I was a lizard,
I emerged from satins and sundials
my skins shimmering in different colors. I possessed
the grace to disappear from astonished eyes,
and that is the rich man's riches. I am too close,
too close for him to dream about me.
I slip my arm out from under his sleeping head.
It's numb, full of imaginary pins and needles.
And on the head of each, ready to be counted,
dance the fallen angels.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
pompeii runs through our veins,
hot with the taste of ash & decay.
some of us are fortunate enough to
become ruins; others are ruinous,
sepulchers of epidemics, air-born, contagious.
a disease that could make London a cemetery.
we dress ourselves up like relics, clothed
in silk and gold and gossamer,
as if they could one day be armor.
as if they could bring us safety.
as if we deserve such things when everything we touch rusts.
it takes only twenty-two years for the
average person to realize they are a weapon.
that words are knives and actions are razor blades,
as if to remind the living that we
came into the world screaming—
and we have never been silent since.
we are the Morrigans, the cursed women,
those whose destiny is entwined with death.
we court death, invite her to our dinner table every night,
let her sleep in the guest room, leave the doors and
windows unlocked for her.
death, we realize as women forced to bear
the weight of the dead on our shoulders,
never comes as a thief.
she comes as a lover, smelling of lilac, a grin
too white and too large to be human.
still, we invite her in,
because even death, regardless of form,
makes for better company than the empty dark.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC
Its just a fantasy the only regret is permanence,
The life of a modern day gypsy, an unknown destination.
I wake up to new faces from past day's bruises,
A long journey into some town, exploring the unknown.
Green sanctum reflecting the temple top,
Woken up by the gong of the ancient metals.
Treated like a royal guest, offered a lot of the harvest,
Walking down the symmetric coconut grooves.
I see vessels carrying newest of the goods,
But here they still stick to their roots.
True its a gods own country, abundant beauty,
I'm lost amidst the hills sipping the Malabar coffee.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
TO PUT the art and talent of Mindanaoan fashion design into the spotlight, Kagay’anon fashion designers put their hands together to organize the 5th Mindanao Fashion Summit at the Limketkai Center Rotunda from August 4 to 6, every 4 p.m.
“Being a core event of the Higalaay festival, the opening salvo, the Mindanao Fashion Summit can really highlight fashion designers here in Cagayan de Oro and also in different points of Mindanao to let everyone see what they can do in the world of fashion design especially now that there are only so few opportunities for these designers to show off their works to the public. This is why we have the Mindanao fashion Summit because Kagay-anon designers believe that even if they join national fashion shows like the Philippine Fashion week, most of them still aren't getting the right encouragement as a fashion designer.” said Robbie Pamisa, the overall organizer of the event.
The Fashion Summit is a three-day event composed of seven sub-categories such as the Mindanaoan collection, the Menswear collection, and the Ororama orange collection for the first day, the Guest Designers’ collection, the Fashion Institute of the Philippines collection and the Loop Lifestyle Fashion Show for the second day, and the Holiday Grand collection for the third day which will serve as the culmination of the fashion event.
Mindanaoan Fashion designers from Cagayan de Oro as well as Davao, Butuan, Iligan, and Bukidnon have come to showcase their talents. Some of the fashion geniuses of the event include Alma Mae Roa, Angela Soriano, Ann Semblante, Benjie Manuel, Boogie Musni Rivera, Gil Macaibay III, John Mark Magellan’s, Joshua Guibone, Juniel Doring, Kiko Domo, Mark Christopher Yaranon, and Mavy Cooper de Leon.
One of the highlights of the event is the Oro Fashion Designers’ Guild and the Designers Assembly featuring a collection of clothes using Mindanao material such as the Mindanao silk. Sponsors such as Ororama and The Loop Towers will also be showcasing their products in the fashion event.
“Even student fashion designers from the Fashion Institute of the Philippines have been encouraged to participate so that they will be able to experience how a fashion show works. This is also a way for us to fulfill our mission to be another avenue for fashion designers to show what they have,” Paisa said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
Loneliness Is Wishing To Cry
Can we really control our loneliness when it attacks? Of course not. However, we can employ the means by which to channel it into a positive force. A force whereby we recruit others and together battle this power of the dark side attempting to cajole us into this state of melancholy. We have to collectively rise to the occassion, and with the force of Good, vanquish it forever more.
Here is a short poem about what loneliness means to me. It was written at a time in my life when I was trying to deal with the recent death of a close family member. Needless to say, I was most devasted at the time of this writing. This poem at that time, in reflection, acted as a therapeutic means for me to "get it all out".
Loneliness is despair
Loneliness is something to beware
Loneliness is the thought today
of no tomorrow
Loneliness is wishing to cry
without knowing why
Loneliness is a simple feeling
without a simple answer
Loneliness comes
Loneliness goes
Loneliness is that uninvited guest
who visits, always without a request
Loneliness is a sickness
you my friend are the cure
Together we will strengthen
and together we will endure.....
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
I must say your conversation is not interesting . What do I got to do so we could start kissing. The only thing I want to learn from is your name
The only I want are your lips and hips.
Let's skip this boring introduction . Lets us go to that lonesome chamber the one the service any guest and pretend it’s ours tonight. Let me just feel the weight your body . Place my hand any part you want me to touch you. I never been great in reading people minds .
Sorry sometimes I get so lonely
My mind gets a bit naughty
All I got this lustful love to give
Sometimes I confuse those words .
In my raw desires I hide a long for affection
Don’t blame me if I hug threw the night.
Do you think I'm crazy ? Does my random mutter annoy you ?
why are you teasing me
Why are you keeping mouth silent
Why are you licking you lips like that
why do you keep looking at me with those eyes
She said “shh no more talking”
She was gone before delight
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
I took the pen with me,
After signing the parlor guest book,
At the Home.
You might think of forgiving me,
Thinking as good people do,
I took it as a memorial sticking point;
But I didn't know the deceased.
I was acting as a devout escort,
To be seen as doing the right thing.
Perception, you've been told,
Is everything.
So, I made sure no one saw me
Take the pen.
For extra insurance,
To project my semblance,
Following the eulogies,
I attended the luncheon,
And ate salmon sandwiches,
And carrot sticks.
On leaving, I grasped the hands:
Sorry for your troubles;
Came home and used that pen,
To create this.
The End.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC