"hefty" poems
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz
The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew
The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!
The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube
Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd
The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox
Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!
The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…
The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…
The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!
The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!
Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!
The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review
Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth
You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Her master towers over her with his hefty might.
His eyes pierce through the shadows.
Commanding and bold, he startles her.
However, she capitulates to his aura.
She succumbs to his will, a willing slave.
Confined by his power, she cannot behave.
His words are tender, his touch like a feather,
she pines for his control, her soul in his hand.
In the dungeon of rapture, they explore their appetite.
Her master, like a bat, hovers over the dim light.
Sweeps her with his wings to a waltz of submission.
And takes her to the ride of darkness and delight.
A coating of fear decorates her face.
He surprises her with acts that leave her afraid.
She is hesitant to continue her master’s calling.
But her body is dissimilar, peachy, and pulsating.
Her master takes her on a trip of ****** events.
Where she gasps with fright, moans with pain,
and pleasures herself to the sound of the rain.
He takes what he wants; she surrenders it all.
He puts her in her place with words of degradation.
Then showers her with warmth and affection.
Her master kisses her, just like aftercare.
In each other’s arms they find solace in times of despair.
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 3:56 PM UTC
Two people both alike in character
Of the opposite sexes
Sit across a candlelit dinner
In a lovely, fancy restaurant
The room is incandescently lit
With a dimness that balances between ever so bright and ever so dark
Allowing for a gold tinge to envelop the restaurant
But not gold enough to take away notice of the lit candle set upon the White table cloth
The waiter appears and asks the couple
What they would like for dinner
The couple order the food and drink
Much to the waiter's delight the food and drink is expensive
The waiter returns shortly
With a bottle of their finest Pinto Noir
And pours the blood-red wine slowly
Into each of the couple's glasses
And leaves the couple to sip upon their sweet sin delicately
The food is laid out
Triumphant in its debut
A vast smorgasbord of entries
Including frog legs, crab, and delicious ****** steak
The couple prepare their silverware for the battle that is eating
The man stabs his knife into the ****** steak
Cutting it open and spilling the juices all over his plate
He stabs the meat with the fork and guides it toward his mouth
And slowly but surely chomps upon it with the strength of his fine jaw
And swallows the meat into the unexposed mystery that is his stomach
The woman begins to mutilate the frog legs with her knife
Cutting into the once moveable limbs
And stabs the limbs with her fork and brings it to her mouth
And delicately bites the limbs and politely chews
And swallows it into her fine and precious insides
The couple then split the crab legs
Using their bear hands they split the shells open
And remove the meat or **** it right out of the shell
They swallow it whole and do nothing with the shell
Leaving the shell aside to be as still as a carcass
The waiter arrives and asks how the food was
The couple obliged him with their satisfaction
The bill is handed to them and the couple pay it
Leaving a hefty tip
They then leave the lovingly dimly lit restaurant
To enjoy the night that is ahead of them
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
Except for the Nobel Peace Prize,
Which carries a hefty prize money,
No other Nobel Prize is given by the rich Norwegians,
Presented are the rest by the Swedish,
And the Norwegian award just the Nobel Peace Prize.
Alfred Nobel had died in the guilt,
The guilt of inventing such death.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 6:46 AM UTC
You were the crisp fresh air I breathed in
Awakening my soul
Clean and bearing no weight
I effortlessly inhaled you
Taking you in
Embracing you and everything about you
Chilled by your presence
Sending goosebumps down my spine
You were the opening of my eyes
But at the same time
You were the foggy air I breathed in
Suppressing my soul
Foul with a hefty weight
Choking as i tried to force you out
Slowly extinguishing me
Avoiding you and everything about you
Sickened by your presence
Forcing me to stop breathing
You are the sludge coating my lungs
Making me want to never breathe again
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
In the midst of the melancholic dusk,
soliloquies of the forgotten are hushed.
Those who listened snickered
at the surreal hopes of those
who search for their flicker.
For you see,
in a year not so long ago,
the Empathy did leave.
Ever since the start,
Empathy lived in the world’s heart.
He came to visit us every day.
His grin is warm and bright like sunbeams,
and he hides behind what the people say.
Empathy was the hero of the lost
His touch mended the broken spirits, although,
none of us knew it had such a hefty cost.
Is there a more affable friend that could possibly be,
than that of Empathy?
Empathy was a close friend of mine.
When I sang his somber song, he appeared.
The bourgeoisie had never seen anyone so divine.
There was something furtive in his eyes
as if he knew, somehow,
that he would have to bid me goodbye.
I asked him, “Empathy, what’s going on?”
He replied, “The light is fading. They have killed the dawn.”
And so I saw his words ring true.
The sun rose not,
The sky faded gray from blue.
The people of the world began to hate.
Abandoning Empathy, they set the universe ablaze.
Fire choked the sky, for us it was too late.
“Save yourself and run away!” I cried.
But Empathy, he shook his head, smiled, and died.
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely,
Profligating goons in obsidian gowns
gathered under rainbow
moonshine shaking bronze hands,
howling and ****** in the shambles of the moon,
rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight.
The mellow marines mourned over malice,
lionizing over lost ones,
many howled venerated, exalted in wonder
in favor of their thrilling grace, and delight,
and brilliance, and might!
but some neighboring sticklers,
behaved haughty and in disdain,
of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes
signaling out
to the seers of the sea,
singing to the wands overwatching the wedding,
and ravens listened,
roving like noble patrolsmen.
Traveleres and trainees at sea
humble and bright
niave, and frieghtened
in traverse,
volatile and toiling,
tireless,
Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,)
Rumaging through rain,
fireciely,
rallying and rableroused,
through towering halls of mohogony,
hefty and wholesome were their hearts
though, beast of the woodsy edifice
were foul and benumb
scowling with contempt,
haste to devide and devised to hindrance.
Hence the heroes heed
to the valleys of rose, and violet,
and strawberry fields of forever,
seeking Saint Nicholas,
in the bustling Byzantium,
in the murky shadows of doubt.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
to-day I sat in a slim line chair
in which I was made aware
of the size of my posterior's pear
it drooped over the sides of the seat
and it didn't look orderly or neat
a not so subtle message
my buns have relayed to me
they've said that they are
a little too hefty
I'm making a belated
New Years resolution
which is to seek an answer
to my tails expansive evolution
being unable to place
my posterior in a chair
is truly a most
wretched affair
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
July 18th, 2010.
Those sacred songs suffocated,
when our books were set on fire.
We wasted time.
Worrying about something that wasn't going to happen
for a while.
Anxiety is just the common cold of 2010.
We've spent all of our $
And still there is no cure.
I have a high tolerance.
And you have a hefty load of prescriptions.
So tell me,
which one of us is going to die first?
Predestination does not care.
But the Grim Reaper does.
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 2:54 PM UTC
A beautiful sun shines through a palm's canopy
And casts a shadow over your beach retreat.
Sitting in a lounge chair with a rumrunner in hand,
It's easy to pretend people don't get murdered here.
Now it's nighttime and the city shines alive with neon
As countless youth hop from club to club looking for fun.
Walking down the boulevard while you take in the sights,
It's easy to forget the projects you passed to get here.
The next morning starts with a hefty hangover
And ends with a delicious bandeja paisa.
You've never had such exotically good food in your life,
Yet it's easy to ignore the famished begging on the streets here.
So the next time you visit
And feel all of your problems leave you,
Remember that your tourist dollars help keep our paradise
One fit for a fool.
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 3:59 PM UTC
In the twilight of immeasurable hope
I run, I pace, I stagger.
A moon of sorts tucks its hefty beams
Behind the gauzy, twisted zephyr,
As if teasing that its crisp, round, clarity
is merely an echo of a distant, convoluted story:
a myth.
One moment I am carrying out my quotidian realities
Unfiltered, unbridled, lucid,
Running my fingers through laughing waves
of golden, auburn richness,
Letting my wavering, billowing hair
slowly melt into the quavering, trembling wind…
When suddenly-
I am caught in the labyrinth of veils.
I, with my hair and my warmth,
I am auriferous.
And these sheets, oh these hangings!
They float like century-worn cobwebs
And they ensnare me so.
This is where the tangled messages
And mangled mixed signals
All wriggle themselves into form
And make their zombie graveyard.
And yet there are sparks,
Little voices trapped in burning baubles
Shining like the ever-loving soul of the universe,
Which whisper the stories of the moon-thing
Beyond the borders of this haze-land.
Sometimes I attempt to fashion
these ethereal sparklings into my hair.
They suggest insanity, so close to my ears,
And I can’t fill my soul with enough…
I cling to the faith that they will lead me out
Into the amaranthine beyond.
I come back here often,
Always hoping that today will be the day
That the beams from above
Will reach to seek me.
For that, I will love the mists,
And carnally sip away
At the nebulous, crepuscular,
Pools of Fantasy.
But in retrospect,
I should never have told you
That your name means “Purple” to me.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 1:35 AM UTC
There are many gifts in God’s great creation
All part of His great economy of the order of things
The gift of breath
The gift of song and of music
The gift of life, of image, of love
The gift of all things
The gift of even --dare I say it-- death
He gifted all things that are
All is gifted unto us
All is given by the Triune God
In all gifted, there was still incompleteness
There was nothing to respond to God
So constructed into the image of God
Comes a gift better than any gift before given
With the breath of God flowing to our lungs
Wearing a crown of the honor and glory of God
This gift, these people- Us
He says to explore
He says to see the world that we have been gifted
To unwrap the gifts given
To gift our gifts to the world that we are exploring
But there was this problem, a tree
It was not a gift, in fact it was forbidden
Yet still, we unwrapped it, we took that which was not ours to take
We were overcome by death
Overcome by udder sadness
Overcome by sickness, and hurt
By this torturous, terrible thing
This terrible stolen anti-gift
And for it we paid a hefty price
We lost all we were
We lost all we were meant to be
No longer did we fulfill our meaning
Where we were to be gift givers
Where we were to be life to the world
Where we were to bless all things
We took that which was not offered
We broke our relationship with God
Not only did we suffer
But all creation suffered with and due to
Then came a new gift
A gift to restore
A gift to be freely taken
Yet a gift of great responsibility
This gift would set free
But also bind
This was a gift of all gifts
This was a gift to end all gifts
God Himself became man
Offering Himself unto death
So that all things could be made new
So all that was sad would become untrue
Now, as we were once to be
We could, ourselves, be gifts to the world
Blessing the world
Giving life to a lifeless
Our gifts were joined with Christ
With this gift, we would become like the gift we were
More like it than ever before
For Christ makes us more human than we've ever been
Where we would offer the world to The Father
And for the life of all things
Our priesthood would be restored
All things would be restored
All things would be made new
All sad things would come untrue
The world would be restored
Prepare the way!
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
Don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
What if the buildings are
Damaged dangerously?
What if all the walls
Are full of cracks
Things can be easily controlled
And you have enough money
So don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
Use your money with caution
Apply your mind, use your money
Get all the walls painted
With very nice painting
Paintings of the folks
Paintings of the modern era
Paintings of saints and heroes
Painting of beautiful landscapes
Raise slogans here and there
Unfurl flags and sing the anthem
What if the rivers are di*ty?
Only raise awareness campaigns
Put hoardings and banners everywhere
Do nothing else, but show everything
Just adopt these cheap tactics
You can save lot of wealth
And can spent on yourself
Or can buy more votes with it
Paint the bark of all the trees
Break all the records of shame
Create a new fake history
Make silly new records
What if there is poverty
Just make monuments for god
And ask people to pray there
God is there to listen the prayer
What if there is unemployment
Ask your businessmen friends
To start training centres and train the youth
And make money, money and money
Leave the trained youth as they were
Ask them to create employment for self
Call it self-employment, call it freedom
Ask them to rejoice this freedom
Open new schools and colleges
But don't appoint staff in teachers
Collect hefty amount of fees
Spent that fees on yourself
Also spent some to collect votes
Manage the peoples
Manage the machines
Manage history, manage geography
Manage the media, manage the news
Spread everywhere, fake news
If you do, what I have said
You will be the king again
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
I thought of being an artist
A career I’ve always dreamed
But perhaps I wasn't the smartest
It wasn’t as it seemed
The lines disconnect and break
These colors a garish hue
A piece most bleak and fake
Is one I always rue
My hands mislead my mind
Unable to recreate for me
The picture I imagined, I find
This frustration a hefty fee
Art is expression, or so they say
But how can I express, I ask,
When my art only blocks the way
And proves a more daunting task?
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Rudolph was differently -abled
As nearly everybody knows.
He suffered discrimination
because he had a nose that glows.
All of the alt-right Reindeer
Were bigoted and called him names.
They never let poor Rudolph
Participate in Reindeer games
Then one foggy holiday Eve
O.S.H.A came to say
“This hostile workplace violates rules
There will be hefty fines to pay!”
Now all of the Reindeer hate him
but learned to hide it carefully.
They just spent two weeks in training
For Reindeer sensitivity.
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Last night,
I spent 45 minutes
In the bathroom
Because my doctor
Told me I needed more
Calcium in my diet.
He says calcium
Will make my bones strong,
And if I want to grow up
To be as big as my dad
Than a hefty glass of milk
Should do the trick.
I'm lactose intolerant.
But to this day I wonder,
Is calcium the culprit?
When an infant's bones
Are crushed by tanks,
And all that is left
Is the dust,
That you wipe away
With the palm of your
Blood-stained hand,
On an unmarked grave
Too old to remember,
But it keeps on
Coming back.
Back to a time
Where potential meant
The possibility of
Developmental potency.
Not the supposedly
High capacity for
Danger.
Like the flowers
In the spring,
Build their spine
From our breath;
Change is the
Life in our blood.
The minute an
Eighteen year old's
Parent's swallow the fire
Of an IED 6,032 miles away,
Believing their child fought for,
Change.
Verb.
To make or become different.
Verb.
To give or get foreign money in exchange for:
Verb.
To remove a ***** diaper from a baby
and replace it with a gun.
Where do you run to?
When sleep
is the only place
In a thousand miles
where you can find God.
When rest
is the only peace
you haven't felt
since they said
the war is
finally over.
When dreams
Are the memories
Of your children’s
Stardust
When you
Can’t adjust
To the lack of future
Freedom liberated
From materialism
When no
Dictionary
Has your definition
of Change.
Noun.
Something you find in your pocket.
Verb.
Something you find in yourself.
Change,
Is not something
You can touch;
But it's something
You should want
To feel.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 3:05 AM UTC
Why do artists **** their arts?
Journalists obey corporate bosses.
Doctors peddle drugs for status.
Lawyers work for robber barons.
Bankers' havens for barons' taxes.
Kings start wars for hefty profits.
Charity's done for the sake of publicity.
Vanity today is a thriving industry.
Shopping's done with borrowed money.
Bankruptcy levels; not seen in history.
From hazardous things; profits aplenty.
Poisoned wells we leave our progeny.
These lunacies have a common cause,
To win 'the rat race'; at any **** rate,
Even earthly mother, we brutally ****
How much is enough, to be content?
Pharaoh's wealth was greater than most,
But while he drowned, it saved him not.
Instead, strive for a righteous life,
Bonded to mother, free from desire.
For we're not islands, or rats in a race.
And when we stand on Judgement Day,
Our wealth that day will have no say,
Our deeds that day will lead the way.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
sitting down drawing circles on sand
by the ocean for 16 years without disturbances,
save a few hefty feet trampling down sand castles
but then one day something happened
and an overwhelming wave comes hurling itself at you,
and you have no escape plan despite living on the sand all your life
the wave comes bearing galaxies from atlantis,
blinding starlight, and a myriad perfect seashells.
it feels like an eternity,
being consumed by the wave as you're given
a tour of every attraction there is,
receiving free samples every now and then.
you succumb to the star dust,
enthralling you like a child at disneyland,
or tumblr teens on the fourth of july.
it feels like you're the only one lucky enough
to witness this spectacle, and you're marvelling
marvelling
marvelling
marvelling
marvel-
.
.
.
.
.
no air
you're gasping
muddy
sand in your eyes
and through the excruciating discomfort,
you see a hundred other silhouettes looking back at you.
---;
this is how it was, loving him briefly.
and this will stare him in the face,
but perhaps his eyes, too, full of sand
will stare right back at me
“silhouettes” he'll say
“silhouettes are what make my day”
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
Fat people canes
They buckle and break
Fat people canes
They smell faintly of steak
Fat people canes
Always arched
Fat people canes
Holding up the heavily starched
Fat people canes
Struggle down the street
Fat people canes
An aid for battered feet
Fat people canes
Support poorly distributed weight
Fat people canes
Caught within a sewer grate
Fat people canes
Can't handle the load
Fat people canes
Easing movements slowed
Fat people canes
Used to skewer crumbs
Fat people canes
Used to butter buns
Fat people canes
Prop for a hefty handicap
Fat people canes
Can't fit within a taxi-cab
Fat people canes
Deserve a wage
Fat people canes
Traded in for a Rascal with age
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
hyperactive minds,
autistic souls;
hefty thoughts,
whispering shouts.
sitting under the face of god
forcing me to bow lower than my red sleeves.
feeling relentless and reckless at the same time,
my answer to everything will be "i'm fine".
cure? cure for having a realistic philosophy?
oh, dear. i am a lost case.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
Like a patterned rug
Beaten to be rid of dust and
Flopped over a balcony railing, a leopard
Hangs her hefty hands beneath a bough.
Head lolling lazily, she awakens.
Fingers like silent meteorites dig
Craters in the loose, dry earth.
From the grasses emerge many warm black eyes, unseen
And vicious: floral pockmarks on
Her carpeted exterior: cruel camouflage.
Deftly lugging her **** back
Into the branches to feed on its flesh:
Patterned rug stained.
Ears ***** and whiskers twitch
As boughs creak and twigtips reach
For the ground: the impala’s weight
Has weakened her arboreal home.
She panics not.
She slinks softly back into
The grasses: better to sidle away unscathed
From immediate danger.
Pride and body intact, she will **** again
Elsewhere.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
I wake up to a repetition,
The constant strive for approval.
A simple undying rendition,
Ideas in my head, hoping for removal.
A subscription for success sign me up,
One hefty fee of-not enough.
Same old texts, asking what's up?
This is not something that should be that tough.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
This one here, why I got it from a Pirate,
He stood with a peg leg and a beard full of knots,
The deck beneath him was littered with hefty dots,
A rather peculiar sight, if I was to be asked,
Which I was, and with that, this eye became glassed!
The one over there, I suppose was from that Siren,
Her skin was blue, eyes a shimmering gold,
Her chest was bare, a sight that the sailors adored to behold,
Excuse me, miss, I inclined my head, "While this is all well and pleasing,"
She clocked my tooth out, when I continued, "In this air, you must be freezing!"
Why that one there, that's from a Queen,
She stood with regal grace and beauty,
Though in my opinion, her dress and manner was rather snooty,
When asked in regards to a task appointed to me,
I informed her that if it was so important, SHE could go water the overgrown tree!
That one there, why that's from a Fairy,
It resided within a nest of glittering gems and jewels,
Each of course, lifted from some wandering fools,
Eyes gleaming with desire and greed,
I soon found those little Fairies are capable of bites to make you bleed!
Over here, you'll see it plainly, is from a Dragon,
It was a plague on the town, its wake of destruction spreading wide,
With grasping claws and snapping teeth, it gobbled up my bride,
I hunted it where it slept, and moved to strike it dead,
And with that, I lost my head!
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC