"handsy" poems
I have grown tired,
After only a short twenty years,
Of being something for your eyes.
Tired of slurred compliments,
Uttered from behind glazed eyes,
And catching eyes flick up
from where they had been stuck-
Wow! This person has *******
Sick of hearing calls and jeers,
shouted from across the street,
from inside of a car,
from the base of an over-sexualised,
and over-sexualising brain.
And so in an attempt to remove myself from such ********
I have been de-sexualising myself.
I wear long, ill-fitting trousers,
Baggy tops, and thick Doc Martens.
I pull up hair up,
Put my glasses on,
I do not bother with make-up.
I glare and I scowl.
Yet still unwanted attention
Has been able to find me.
Still you grab and grasp at me,
As if I were but a toy at your disposal.
I turned to one,
and looking in his eyes,
I clearly said "No.".
A dog, a child, a human,
Would have understood me;
Yet he did not.
I turned again when his hands didn't stop.
**** off, I said No."
"Slap me, baby, I'm sorry!"
He leered, not sorry in the least.
"I'm not going to hit you.
I'm saying no,
and you're going to respect that."
He left for a moment,
Only to return as handsy as before.
I tell you honestly,
I have no idea
What more I'd need to do
To get some people to see me
Not as a real-life *** toy,
But as a *******
human
being.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
I can’t really tell you
About love,
You.
I’m interested in *******
Till I’m raw, and holding
You like the universe you
Are.
Sometimes I go around
With hoes,
Smoking blunts till we fume
And sing and laugh
And start getting handsy.
Sometimes they have their kids in the other room,
And they yelp and laugh; when I look into these hoes
Eyes, all I see is aggression. I’m not seeing myself.
I’m not saying these things
The way I want them to be sung.
Most of my money
Runs out the door. Like a bandit,
Trouble likes to peep me when I’m at my worst.
The cops have never been so *****
As when they see me, and they ******
Holsters.
I go alone a lot. To a lot of places.
Hoes, Money, Depression, Debt,
Bad Credit, All kinds of Addiction,
**** Alcohol, **** Codeine, Nicotine,
My brain is a Chemical Frenzy,
Most days I’m hovering like a mote.
I graduated,
Look at my degree: **** Me.
I have come home to a confining place,
A spit-swallowing place, full of half-breathed people
And tight-lipped sorrows.
I can only
go
when it’s convenient
And necessary.
I can only
be
when it’s part of a digression,
Never progression.
Food tastes like paper,
I’ve taken a likening.
Lights are fastened to the sky,
The glue wears, washes my eyes in milk,
The jewels drop,
The world ends.
Then it all snaps back into place, eerily,
So clean I never saw it.
Ask me if I can tell you about love,
When I can remember your body
And
It’s casual thump,
Clothed or not,
Drunk or sober,
Speaking or silent.
Ask me if I can drive home and peel back the sky with my left hand, while steering Earth into oblivion,
As I lean across wind-swept galaxies of dust, ash, and settled nicotine
To kiss Florida Orange lips, sip the nectar of insanity, and
Swerve on universe eyes.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
Pantywaist,
This shows no taste.
Light in the loafers,
Maybe for gofers.
Squats to ***
Who? Not me!
Limp-wristed,
It it’s twisted, maybe.
***** and sissified,
Maybe somebody lied.
*** and ******
You’re a bigot.
Bigass Fruit,
Zoot and all root.
Tuttifruity,
Call to gay duty.
Half a man,
Sometimes better than.
Tinkerbell,
Go to hell.
Airy-fairy,
You’re just scary.
******** bandit,
I can’t stand it.
***********
Bigass *******
Silly queen,
Quit being mean.
Flutter-by,
Can’t pronounce butterfly?
*****
Don’t get handsy, mate!
Nancy boy.
Political ploy.
Just some of the words
We gays have all heard
With each imprecation
The implication
Is that we are sick,
Definitely twisted,
And the end result
Is that each insult
Pushes the speaker
Further away, and weakens
The hold on a reality
That homosexuality
Is just another normality.
In short, reality.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
Yesterday evening,
As I was traveling,
We hit the river styx.
The bussers got to scattering,
And a man made out of twigs
Sat next to me with a swish.
With teeth all a'chattering
Through a stutter-ridden lisp,
He blubbered and he spit
As he asked me for a kiss.
I said "that's quite flattering,
But you smell like stagnant ****
And I don't have any patience
For this attempted tryst."
With a devilish twist
Of his knotted, wooden wrist,
He handed me a Twix,
And said "eat this piece of candy
And I'll grant your every wish."
I knew it would be handy
When I packed some liquorice,
And though he was too handsy,
His promise seemed legit.
I traded him my sweets
And I ate his offered treat,
Then I feel asleep as quick
As a widow starts to weep.
I must admit
I was shocked
To find myself a heap,
A pile of trash
Cast aside
To be swept off of the street.
Lesson learned,
Ingrained deep:
Never trust
A timber creep
You meet upon a bus,
And never eat
Offered sweets,
Or else you will get mugged.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
I heard the door open. It was Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister),
she’d been out on a date. I was the only one in the living room
as she came in and sagged, dejectedly onto the huge, white
sectional couch, right next to me. She looked positively
deflated. Which is unusual because up until now,
she’s been all freckles and smiles
Ok, here’s where we get poetic and rhyme, with innuendo and allusion:
Me: “Did you have a good time?”
Leeza: “No but I was trying.”
Me: “Did he get handsy—the swine?”
Leeza: “Argh! No—but his kisses are a crime.”
I gasped: “You didn’t give him a climb!?”
Leeza “NO!” she said, somewhat horrified.
Me (trying to be neutral): “No judging, it would have been.. fine (I lied).”
Leeza: “That’s never going to happen.”
“Good,” I declared, “he was just a distraction—and, you know Santa.”
“What about Santa?”
Whew, that’s enough of THAT (rhyming business).
She asked, so, yeah, I sang it.. I had to.
*“He knows who you’ve been kissing,
what you’re thinking when you’re awake,
he knows if you’ve been bad or good—
he’s kind of like a cop that way.”*
After a moment's silence Leeza asked,
“Is there something creepy about that?”
“Only if you think about it.” I admitted,
as she put her head on my shoulder.
.
.
A song for this:
Fairytale of New York (feat. Kirsty MacColl) by The Pogues
.
.
A Christmas Playlist! There’s 6 days til Christmas (and Hanukkah)
http://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_25.mp3
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 12:14 PM UTC
I've had hands want me.
I've had hands hurt me.
I've had hands trap me.
But I have never really
had hands just
hold me.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
**I see how they look at me
With eyes that hunger for skin
I see how the eat me up in their stares
Their endless thirst makes me grin.**
*I feel them degrade me in each glance
********** me like a play toy
Eating me with their wandering eyes
This is why I don’t settle for a boy.*
**To be wanted is my worth
Their sole desire
To hold me and love me
Would ignite their little fire**
*I cannot be looked at in such a way
I feel ***** from their careless eyes
The way they imagine me bent over
A part of my soul dies*
**I love the way it feels
When he puts his hand on my thigh
How it feels to have his lips on my neck
And know he's not a nice guy**
*I hate when they glance my way
and saunter over like were friends
and how he tries to touch me
and begs this night not to end*
**I love it when those bad boys get handsy
and beg for a touch or two
and plead for a peek
and say I'm the kind of girl they'd *****
*to be desired in such a way
makes me sick inside
I just want to be a good girl
and be someone's cute bride*
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
In the place my parents
Never wanted me to be
Never dreamed I’d be
Their perfect daughter
Off at college
Studying, of course
Even on weekends
In your frat house
In sweaty dark rooms
Lit only by black lights
With music blaring
So loud
You feel the bass in your
Not well covered chest
Solo cup in hand
Already feeling the room
Begin to spin
You’re the boy my parents
Never wanted me to meet
And the guy who would never
Have gone to my high school
And the one my friends
Would have hated
Back then
With the pierced lip
And tattoos
And smoking
And drinking
Getting handsy
And speaking fast, fluent Spanish
The later it gets
On a Friday night
You were everything they never wanted for me
And everything I needed you to be
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
Here I am pen in hand
about to write another stupid love poem
still unsure if i have ever been in love
See I used to fake love to get handsy under the bleachers
now I'm so practiced at faking love that I could probably get Grammys
My words have always been adequate enough to put smiles on girls faces
But my words have never been concrete enough to find a place with anyone in particular
Maybe that why I find it easier to bounce around from girl to girl making declarations of love to you and then again to her
I've even gotten so good at faking love that I have fooled myself into believing I'm someone worth loving
So good in fact that there are days when I wish my hands were made of sandpaper because I've been stroking my ego so much that I've started devoloping carpal tunnel in my smile
But then again I've always had pain behind my grin
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
I fell for your warm eyes
And inviting smile
But I stayed to appease the pit that formed in my chest
The aching longing that grumbled angrily
Like a dormant monster when we were apart
But when I got handsy
You pushed me away
Left me hooked on a drug I couldn’t partake in
A sensation I could never truly experience
Our love was a mistake
Free from the fever dream,
I’m plagued by a supercut of facepalms
And quivering lips
What I assumed was intimacy
Was simply infatuation
So I fled
Oblivious to your shadow hanging over me
Where I ran
Your presence followed
A restless wind trailing after me
Never letting me forget it’s there
Slipping between my fingers
Running through my clothes
Sitting heavy on my lips
So every subsequent relationship
Was saturated by your memory
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
I suppose I should feel sad but I don't
You always put a lot on me so hard to say no
Oh and you know all of what you done
I wish I could say it was once but it was twice
Maybe even more the whole night was a real nightmare
Too handsy for your age, where is your wife?
You’re so gross, you snake, as you think you are making your way
I wonder how many girls you twisted to play your games
Now you pay as you watch years dissipate
Overnight one passionate day
I wish I could say I was sorry but I am not.
Jan 13, 2022
Jan 13, 2022 at 1:10 AM UTC