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Styles Jul 2017
Wish I could stop time or make it last longer
Feeling on your vibes, emotions getting stronger
The longer I ponder, the more I grow fonder
I can't be around you
There ain't no telling what i might do
I don't know if you can take it
It's too big, I might break it
Little waist tight dress
I can’t take it
Your body shakin
eyes looking at me
like your for my taking
our bodies groove
In our grooves
This kinda love is for the makin
Dancing like we two halves of one making
The moment sacred
Reading your body language
picturing you naked
screamin my name like its your favorite
I make your body do things
So your soul can savor it
Makin love until your ears ring
to our vibe vibrating as we do our thing
you cumin first until it’s past tense
Got a few things on my mind
Baby you are a hottie
Out of everybody
I want your body
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
In conversation with my cousin,
she says, 'Oh my God, my
brother-in-law still remembers
you

as my cousin with the 'nice ***';
the 'hottie' from my wedding.

Still talking about me after
all these years, I see.
I couldn't help but think,
'wow, quite the first impression
I must make, or is it the
impression I leave BEHIND?'

and I felt the wheels spinning
in my mind, as they always do,
trying to decipher what the
appropriate response to
such an admission should be...
in this...particular...instance.

And I heard this voice in my
mind, shout, in its softest tone,
'I...AM MORE...THAN JUST...
A...NICE...***, if you take
the time to know me.'

So I realize that I find
the observation anything but
flattering.

Amusing, predictable,
redundant...yes.

But am I flattered, am I
even intrigued, or...
impressed, in the slightest?
Not at all.

For me, it is just...
inevitable entertainment,
among other things I
won't freely admit at this
time.

But if, and when, I happen
to lose any components
of my identity,
I can always remember,
that if nothing else,
I am...

(not my name, or even
my fetching idiosyncracies,
but...)

the 'Hottie with the
nice ***', and
I wouldn't be able to help,
but smirk.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Compliment...or not?
Raps Apr 2015
When I see marissa
I just wanna kiss her
Shes a hottie with a bodie
And i wanna get naughty
When i see her purple hair
I wanna touch everywhere
Shes hella fine
she looks like a dime
shes all mine
I wanna take her to my red room of pain
she can play the game
it will never be the same
Shes nice
Shelby Azilda Mar 2014
Everyone should be able to to feel,
Comfortable in their own body.
Because everyone is beautiful,
Their own special brand of hottie.
Emily Sep 2013
I feel like such a pest
I want to focus on you
And forget all the rest
Now that we're on this new level
Curiosity ignites in me
In your love, I want to revel
I can barely sit still
Or even think straight
Want to fulfill your will
Want to take you on a date
Holding your hand
And touching your body
My breaths flutter
You are such a hottie
© Peyton 2013
Julia Jan 2012
Those stiletto heels click-clack on the floor,
In your appearance, you clearly invest.
That model sized body swanks through the office,
With that push-up showcasing your *******.

Your eyes light up as you parade around the office
And the men try not to stare.
You wink and smile as you pass them by,
Catching the light in your hair.

Your goal is to have the attention,
Of everyone, every day.
How will you do this? Simple!  
You allow those hips to sway.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
1- MOUTH*ME Ordering
Impress-me_Orange only
Surprise me
_
Lounge-Pop-solo
to believe in me orange wings halo
He's the Popsicle Text$$$He

She is acting like the
baby grand piano
Plays the "Clockwork Orange"
spoiled her
orange cycle pours
out liqueur
Top hat seating he better do quicker
who will be doing the ordering?

The orange smiling the whole world
Is hanging up their coats in the
Rainbow room honey orange glaze
She got her scholarship
drinks just float

Somewhere being checked off
Like an orange popsicle licked off
All fragments "Creme Brulee'
in orange segments
Look at him with the
big portion
 
The check your paying now
you can leave my dream
Titanic ship or the internship

Orange plaid vibrant tablecloths
Lips so tangy nothing
fancy love and honor
Her pooch too smoochy 
Orangey oceans drizzle me touchy
Touch her vibrant lips
she screams
More orange with
good principle
So delectable how his mouth
On the radio air
She lets out to
much air
Her orange peel wedge
Bits and pieces profitable pledge
Orange-grapefruit perfumes
with vanilla cream
She Pops in and he bursts out
To trust her dream you better react
To see her colors
The Ambrosial Business
lady proposal good
American dollar

Pick me I am pungent her gloss
is a big plus
She’s all business cool
vibrant boss

Orange Julius Caesar shower
Exotic oils of orange petal me
What delicacy for the
Gods orange lounge
piece de resistance the
New Orange with persistence.
spiritual love romance
her wicked stance

2.
Her Face ASTRINGENT
SOoothing Vibrant

Her lips juicy gossip
Her juicy lips to burst for
He’s the “Orange Julius Sunshine”

3. Delectable--__ Save me Savory
Finger lakes he gives me
the finger foods

Creamy outnumbered orange
fudge you be
My Popsicle Judge


Oranges segments pancakes to
boost your energy
Underestimate her she will orange
  test your fate don't be late
That well suited Italian Gelato
His eyes like popsicle love
signs her lips orange designed
So well to deliver
Dances of touches pulp fiction river
a burst of Godly Orange sunsets
We all love the change
like an experiment

(No Nuns) wearing orange ruler sticks
Let's flag them down in my convent

The men of Citrus Avanti umm
Refreshing popsicle his dimples
the Ground of Sculptures
The melted like milkshakes
Don't use the John
pulp fiction.

4. SPECTRUM OF COLORS ORANGE

Orange vibrant she screams she could
knock anyone out of her burst dream
The orange starter hard pulp
orange lip gloss what delicacy
piece de resistance the
New Orange with persistence.
Her nails in polka dots
Orange

Firey Islander Exotic hottie
orange lip gloss she looks good
over him
Orange slices love triangles
How the women start to mingle they
love being single their orange
fashionable 27-anniversary good luck
orange you glad I got them
dresses he could eat her up
like a 69 flavor sherbet
how she melts
Orange juice me anytime
how does it pour?
Going on an exotic taste tour
Orange Emerald City

Vivacious so vibrant she
stands out her
smells intoxicating again
Orange mating Vitamin C
The sun craving
Like clockwork her masterpiece
of fragrance a burst of her heart
orange smoothie
wildly orange scent how he
was summoned
onto her with vibrant
words of comments
A burst of the eclipse will be coming
Longevity how he lifts her gravity.

More Vitamin C Orange is all me.
How you can use your intuition
to create miracles in life

Orange moods of shades and peoples personalities all come with
technologies the orange way of thinking isn't it soothing and refreshing like a burst of orange sunshine
Charlie Hazels Jun 2016
Lassie, sweetheart, love
That's not my name
Calling loudly, feel like I'm dying
Embarrassed, school skirt flying

Pet, darlin', hottie
That's not my name
Followed up the street, feeling scared
Don't know how to get help, if I dared

*****, ****, ****
That's not my name
Cop a feel when you go by, want to be sick
I'd never see you again, if only I could pick

Girl, gorgeous, lovely
That's not my name
Mind blanks on procedure, sheer panic as you come
Pushed up to a wall, you grab my ***

Beautiful, star, babe
That's not my name
I cried when you came home with me
After dinner, you claimed your fee
Arcassin B Oct 2014
By Arcassin Burnham



Dancing,
Singing,
Listening,
Enjoying,
An island,
The people,
Brazilian,
Their laughing,
Their making,
Love,
Love,
Love,
Touching,
Kissing,
Feeling,
In the streets,
There's a party,
Full of hottie's,
Everybody,
Speaks Brazilian,
Getting down,
Getting naughty,
This is *** night.

Dancing,
Singing,
Listening,
Enjoying,
An island,
The people,
Brazilian,
Their laughing,
Their making,
Love,
Love,
Love,
Touching,
Kissing,
Feeling,
In the streets,
There's a party,
Full of hottie's,
Everybody,
Speaks Brazilian,
Getting down,
Getting naughty,
Don't tell nobody,
Keep it a secret,
Fulls of smiles,
Taking shots,
Popping,
Ecstasy.
:)
It was a dark and stormy night the wind tasted of emptyness of the midnight hour.
The man was broken as he viewed the ledge and as he stepped out apon it he seemed more lost than
Elton John in a ***** house.

******* stupid *****!
He threw the picture into the night as it made it's way to the dark waters below.
Then taking a  deep chug from the bottle he began to fling the bottle as the picture befor.

****** man hold on!
the man shocked almost fell he thought he was alone.
Who the **** are you!

The stange looking man who sat apon the ledge and smelled of
week long ****** and a stripper or two.
Look man dont try to stop me im jumping and that's it.

Hey amigo I dont give a **** if ya jump but if your gonna jump and  toss a bottle at least make sure it's empty ******* duh theres wino's all over the world and one right next to ya that
right now are dying for a drink.

The man like most people in the pressense of Gonzo looked at me with strange mix of
aww and **** my life that they all seem to share.
Im gonna jump and all you care about is the ******* bottle!
My good man im hurt besides ya gotta wallet to duh not like your gonna need it
besides someone has to notify the cops besides I might get a reward I always wanted to get on a show besides cops.

What?
The man said puzzled im guessing being he didnt follow  so easily he must be Canadian.
Okay okay you got me I was also on Locked Up  okay and Americas Most Wanted and maybe To Catch A Perdator that Chris Hanson what a ***** tease.

Look ****** get the **** away from me here's the ******* bottle as for my wallet here ya go but my ***** cheating ***** of a wife beat ya to the money.
So your wifes a ***** and you still have to pay sir I belive your suffering from dellusion
here have a drink with me.

The man was far worse than I thought not only a Canadian he seemed to be suffering from some mental issues Jesus was it fate that a rational man as I would be hanging out okay passed out on this very same bridge.
******* batman  cause Gonz was on the job and I wasnt gonna blow this one like
last time not that I go around blowing things.
Besides remember kids a ***** charges me I give it away now if they offer to pay
thats a diffrent story.

But enough with the foreplay hampsters.

I sat drank and listend to the mans story.
How he fell in love with this strange women who took his money and was a total ****.
Hmm wonder what she'll be up to after this annoying ***** jumps?

And when I caught her with my best friend that was the final straw.
Its all over **** life !.
So did you get this all on camera?
What !!!
Why would I do that?
Idk hell man  just thought it'd be fun to watch I mean who doeant like drinking and watching ****?
I know the Hello staff  seems to keep things running great on it.

You are are ******* mental you know that?
Maybe but im not the one wasting ***** with a kickass ****** living at home
sure ya gotta pay but dude your getting free shows its like living in Germany
sure kinda ***** but hey beats writting perverted things that no one reads on a website that
died years ago and no one wants you on much like there ******* daughter.

You sick ***** you want my life so much you can have it!!
The man shouted in his outside voice once is okay when outside but if we were inside
id really be ******.

Just have my life you demmented *******.
Really sir you just made me happier than that talentless **** Russel Brand after escaping
the clutches of the preaching hottie drag queen Katy Perry.
Im kidding she's great to watch with the sound off.

The man looked puzzled again I swear im begining to think he might have lied .
Cause he seemed  more from a third world country like  Indiana.
Hey where the hell do you think your going!?

Hey wheres my.
The man fumbled through his pockets .
Looking for these I asked holding up a pair of keys.
Hey bring thoose back right now !

Amigo sure I could  hang around here listen to ya **** and moan.
But hey you said i could have your life.
And being you wanna play man on a ledge I figure why the **** not.

You see what's one guys ***** rotten cheating ***** of a wife is another guys
kick **** party to go so later.
Wait stop please Im not gonna jump  she's a ***** but I love her .
And the thought of your demmented *** living in my house  ***** it life's not that bad please
I want my life back.

My friend ya see thats all I wanted to hear.
I tossed the keys in one of thoose corney *** movie moments that guys go to just to make the laidies happy and in the hope they'll get laid.

The keys flew through air  the man put his hand in the air tears in eye's
so happy he totally forgot he was still standing on the ledge.
And he screamed like a school girl as he fell to his death it was a twisted scene oh well.

I had no time to reflect cause i was off like a madman with a date with a ***** little hampster
Hey someone had to console this woman and who better than the person who spent those last
hours with him.
And was kinda responssible for his deatn but hey whats in the details.

Untill next time hampsters you stay crazy.
And remember when all hope is lost learn to hotwire a car and get the **** outta there.
Thanks for the important life skills grandpa.

Adios.

Gonzo has left the site.
Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot
welcoming me to the land of dream
Sofas couches fog in England
Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows
curtains on his windows, fog seeping in
the chimney but a nice warm house
and an incredibly sweet hooknosed
Eliot he loved me, put me up,
gave me a couch to sleep on,
conversed kindly, took me serious
asked my opinion on Mayakovsky
I read him Corso Creeley Kerouac
advised Burroughs Olson Huncke
the bearded lady in the Zoo, the
intelligent puma in Mexico City
6 chorus boys from Zanzibar
who chanted in wornout polygot
Swahili, and the rippling rythyms
of Ma Rainey and Vachel Lindsay.
On the Isle of the Queen
we had a long evening's conversation
Then he tucked me in my long
red underwear under a silken
blanket by the fire on the sofa
gave me English Hottie
and went off sadly to his bed,
Saying ah Ginsberg I am glad
to have met a fine young man like you.
At last, I woke ashamed of myself.
Is he that good and kind? Am I that great?
What's my motive dreaming his
manna? What English Department
would that impress? What failure
to be perfect prophet's made up here?
I dream of my kindness to T.S. Eliot
wanting to be a historical poet
and share in his finance of Imagery-
overambitious dream of eccentric boy.
God forbid my evil dreams come true.
Last nite I dreamed of Allen Ginsberg.
T.S. Eliot would've been ashamed of me.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
what's with this hobby of keeping friends?
i've got two friends that
only say meow...
          and i'm kinda not rooting for
a Colombian hottie for a wife...
                 i abhor this idea of a "loner",
i haven't heard any monks being called that...
  but then again monks do live in a monastery...
why do people always seek each other's
company? what's wrong with liking your own?
it really bothers me... i mean, by current
standards of denoting this man a loner
would make Spinoza laugh...
                  is it because you need to be the quintessential
hermit living in a clay urn or in a hole
in a desert?
                              each night i drink something,
without fail: i feel better for it...
               i'm hoping it'll **** me...
but so many times people who don't known
how to drink get so ******* melodramatic
that i think about ensuring they are banned from
abusing the amber...
                        i hate melodramatic drinkers,
you either utilise the sedative of the amber to
an overcoming potential... short: Kant's
transcendental methodology... you you won't
drink and whine... or bash people about...
and that, i must say: is a rare art.
     1 litre of amber and i'm as silent as a mouse...
i'll say it again:
    there are too many melodramatic whinge-bags
out there... i don't get them...
    i mean i get them: but i abhor them...
                i could really do with a pupil,
nietzsche would do, about time he stopped dropping
those barbiturates and learned to dance!
         tanz! tanz herz im freuer!
yes, sometimes the trip was long
the N86 from romford to goodmayes and
into the brothel near the train station...
but every time i played a folk song,
usually dikanda's ketrin ketrin i'd sit on the bus
for about 40 minutes... aflame...
                i find that prostitutes are only fed the myth
of a tender touch and a complete lack
of experimental perversity... even a kiss is
the beginning of their myth-making...
   ordinary girls are fed the myth of movies,
and how it all works out...
    each time i went to the brothel i sat for the journey
time like a Sufi meditation with the
              dervish dance in my mind...
                 and that's the truth... mind you,
i have a grandfather that supports my work
and buys me cigarettes... then again he lived in a time
when he could age and get a state-pension,
as he does... he's not ailing in any sense, and he lives
in a post-communist country... and i just spent
3 weeks over there... which means my state-sponsorship
in england has amounted: that i could take out
110 quid and give it for a *******...
                and i could remember myself aflame...
  on a bus with a dervish dance in my mind...
           drunk, as usual: but that's the fun part of it...
i could wave my *** at all those
melodramatic drunks you get at parties and in other
public places who suddenly speak and only moan
how unfair it all is...
                      first time i went? well... i did go to
uni after all, the sacred land of getting a good score
for later life... what a sahara when it comes to ***!
   like with prostitutes it still turns out to be a case
of hard facts and harder choices...
                  money...
                        and­ the white historians and who else
in the etc. cul de sac are wondering why our ethnicity is
in decline... it's quiet a thing to be bemused by the freedom
of women and not addressing the point fairly...
                   the women are so free i had to find my own
freedom with a *******...
                         i got bored of too many darwinian examples
being incorporated into the act... once it's the peacock,
next it's the mantis and the black widow...
of sure... there's so much to gain if endorsing some sort
of chivarly, when next door lives a babe with a sugar daddy...
   ***-starved ******* can go elsewhere,
       wild-eyed logic and no manifesto...
literally: there's no hope for a manifesto here...
             there's no manifesto...
                    this is absolutely not a manifesto...
         i'm actually happy that as an ethnicity we're in decline...
  i found talking to other ethnicities a bit restrictive
and boring... i had to censor vocab fluidity with dams
and other ****** architectural constructs...
    so i looked at the shows on television,
a bunch of child-genuises were on...
   i never thought that spelling was like arithmetic...
   but it is... it is, oh hell it is...
  the judge says the word in that odd jumble that a word
is when you have alphabetical distinctions
   in vowel, consonant and syllable form...
    but the languasge is so different, after all
language is not really an optical language as such,
mathematical language is truly anti-phonetic...
and it comes down to the simple example:
      spell the word: onomatopoeia
  start saying the alphabet and it sounds nothing like
this word put together,
   the syllable ono-                
                       then -ma-
                               -to-        and now the tricky bit...
peya...          but what of the grapheme œ?
                you'd really be able to break your tongue
on that syllable suffix...
                       and when the children started spelling
the word: it look as if they were going cross-eyed
   trying to translate the sound into image...
    mathematical language doesn't have that problem,
do the following airthmetic (e.g.)  
   1 + 2 - 5 + 6 - 4 = ?
                                          0...
but that's different when you are told to spell the word
   renaissance -
                                  doubly more difficult if
you are told to create syllables without diacritical mark
distinctions...
               back to drink, like being asked for
a wine connoisseur's palette, when the wine you've been
given has been diluted...
   or in this case fudge packed so there are no
clear distinctions, too much french influence
      and siamese twin graphemes seperated...
excess vowel that i've heard means: kissing...
i'm sorry how the story goes,
i just can't be forced to **** a kenyan penny-picking
                tragedy with my humour...
        i'm bewildered by the arithematic
and the "arithmetic" of putting words together...
                  the internet has quietly become a war
for a freedom to talk... it's more a freedom to think
than talk...
                  and god forgive me feeling so obscure in
what i wanted to think, but given the social structure of
events happening, i had to do a minority report on
it being said, and me not typing this on
a medium of defeat, that i ended up on a warring stance...
i mean, i can understand obscurity per se,
i can't see how i can attach myself to it on a basis
of a phenomenon...
                          so unearthed we are from a structure
that a rebellion against
                  the szlachta was viable...
what the hell grows on concrete? coconuts?!
      i already said: this is hardly a manifesto...
and i truly demand it to be thoroughly agreed to...
                   then comes the shortcoming
barrage of: i knight you the nigh of not worthy...
                        and then the recycling process
bombards you with: many more squint-eyed *****
to come where you did, come from.
       urbanity has forsaken man attached to an organism,
but is feeling it right now,
                 he's attached to an inorganic farbic of testament...
i haven't walked the soil or toiled in it
to feel it's breath between winter or summer..
           i once had so much one-dimensional inclusion
in this world, then my sight was diverted,
and i came across the numbers, who took to being
***** whales and gulped me in one cascade of
the feeding...
              and i was told to walk it alone.
once actors were abhorred by society,
but then there was no office folk to compete for
utility biases when it came to giving gratitude to
pristine plumbing...
                          back when man was highly
economical... and thus actors had to be abhorred...
  to create a tsunami of sadism to keep them
staged... and true enough:
         if christ was crucified in the colliseum
there would have been fewer than none churches to
establish that event... given the colliseum is
made into a subject-trophy cabinet of holiness -
               and how the colliseum did morph...
it's sad talking about being human as excluding humanity,
as it's sad talking being human by including humanity...
               but thankfully (or not)
there's still that case of the arithmetic of the two tongues...
        say the word colliseum
                             co- -lli- -se'um.
      i mean, that means something...
  take to numbers and of the 26, care to call c = 3
               18 + 33 + 24 13 21
                            +                      2 1 2 = 5
                                                    4 3 1 = 8
                            + 58
                                    = 109
    
kabbalah is *******... mysticism was squandered with
gematria... but islam has no alternative either...
sure... if you have to establish a mirror image
of having a care for theological parasites...
   then you turn a into 1, and b into 2 and z in 26...
and then fiddle about until you get a *******'s worth
of bashing about because you couldn't write
a play entitle Macbeth...
               did any of these holy alternatives die
in Auschwitz? most of them living in America didn't
serve in the Israeli army...
                 who wonders whether they died in
Auschwitz?
                 no! they didn't!
       they were bemused by this correlation of
numbers and letters, thankfully we already can read
the opposite of the kabbalistic practices
prostate in the Deutronomy...
           say 10 a thousand times... adds a few more zeros
but leaves the 1 intact...
            please enlighten me as to who wrote the first
koranic recitation if not khadira? please! for the love
of god tell me it wasn't khadira!
         oh wait... given the hispanic um...
it's khadija - the h is silent and the j is actually a hatch...
          a bit like in the west, with y and j trying to
be a grapheme... a load of ******* *******:
and yes: i have to be crude on the matter...
   so we have the first verse written by a woman...
  or was it a bit like saying...
Aisha wrote surah no. 114... i can just picture it...
the young wife said to her ageing husband:
pray with these words, you lecherous *****!
say: say it you ageing carcass!
i seek refuge in the lord of manking,
the sovereign of mankind...
      the god of mankind...
     from the whisper of the retreating whisperer
(gabriel must have left him once the 13th wife arrived,
of god! the symmetry with jesus' disciples!)
     who whispers into the ******* of makind
(evil is in the brackets) -
from among the jinn and mankind.
conscience really can be a ****** to master.
but the geometry of the koran (glutton the q if you want,
makes no impressions on me) -
is that it starts thick... ends up anorexic...
           so much to say at the start,
but then shrinks... it's beautiful in that sense...
given the miracle of muhammad was that he was
illiterate...
  so someone had to write the words for him...
            i'm guessing khadija wrote the best part of it...
i like to think of her writing the first revelations...
    but i also like to muse that aisha wrote the latter
half of the: how do they stress the ******* q k c so much
that it sounds like it's not coming from the mouth
but coming from the nose?! qu-ran... i need
a hanky and snorkel that **** out... qu sneeze! i-ran...
          it's glutton and it's nasal, and it's almost like:
the back of the throat... and then comes the la la la all-hubris
in that song five times a day...
                but seriously... you tell me the man was illiterate
an this book exists... so who wrote it?
   women!
                                         the merchant of mecca in
Finland... left the scandinavian penninsula after one year
and never came back...
                   but how can you have so much
at the beginning and so little at the end?
   a different woman, who was literate (and the man
wasn't) wrote what needed to be said...
    i just look at the surah an-nas as a way to suggest
that the prophet: al suma mal ley *** blah blah
had been asked to repent... repent you paedo!
          that's crude, i know... and i'm drunk,
i'll wake up sober tomorrow and cook a pork curry
and think about leather shoes and shoelaces and belt...
and how camels are dirtier than pigs and how you
can eat almost all of pork offal and when i see a camel
i just think of chewing tobbacco and spitting into
a copper tin... or camel-jockeys...
        or how i think arabs are cursed with oil
and dyslexia and diabetes... how most of them will
end blind or amputee due to their diabetes...
      how a lot of them would like something more
than turkish coffee and baklava, and how
it stops looking cool after a while...
           arab oil, dyslexia and diabetes...
which probably means a palestinian balaclava
at the end of the sequence...
   i'll never know: i'm not planning to have
a stop-over shopping spree in Dubai, any time soon.
Still Crazy Jun 2019
drrry spells

~for the r in all of us~

a normanative condition, a kitchen condiment, an un-relished
I’m-in-a-pickle relish, when there in no hot **** dogged doggedly poem perspiration in the fridge or anywhere to be found; nothing but a top sliced bun, ah, plain buns, old stale dog ones is all ya got left for dinner, during one of them there drrry spells that
no blonde tanned unweathered weatherperson ever
forecast correctly

Normanative? Oh yeah.

the tyranny of the white, white bread, the white, whittle ya down screen, couture-cold water from tap direct, neck bent, jugged to try and fail to wash down that lumpen ball of dog fur brain drain clog that’s backing up the paper words, in a stomach churning brine holding you back from reaching the top of the Mt. Everest,

rite Normanative?

Normanative.Oh yeah. Son of Norma and Normally.
It’s in the bibell, look it up!

she-he is my pooka, (nope, uh-uh, look it up) a six foot tall rabbit,
climbing up my brain stem, strategically strangling my words like
a flea killer collar round my neck, one that actually visually works,
my flea bit words fall to the floor, to live with the dust mites descendants of the ole south, drafts and rejection letters, all whose blessed memory may never die etc. etc.

that was the condition of my normanative condition when I dropped in (yup, look it up),

Norman sarcastically asking, how’s the weather up there,
any rain in that-northern-brain, down here it’s as dry as an southern old dog porch panting in Jewlie, breathiny out summer hottie poems, write out like it’s crazy going out of style, oh yeah, forgot
you don’t speak dawg that well.

so I don’t know nothing about your drry spells, just climb into
the hottest hot tub, staying all the summer months if necessary,
reading old poems about busted hearts, old dogs, unrealized loves that can’t be forgot, promises kept that one never made, other curses,
battlefields of yore, sweatin’ out the toxins till r
sends along a new one, rocking my toenails to my disbelieving eyes,
for I’m a mentally patient person,
whose never seen a drrry spell so long, that was not worth
wading thru, waiting for, till something busted out and
another thunderstorm of a literary good one, errr come along

like I said, I’m a mental patient man, still crazy after all these years...
(yup, that too, you could look it up if ya made this far)
Ham Aloufi Dec 2014
want to live in a world where we aren’t slaves to the dime.
I want to live my life while I’m still alive
But I’m stuck with a 9 to 5
Bullies on the side waiting to taking my lunch money away
Oh **** you got some expenses to buy
******* it I need to refill my prescription
I am trapped in a position
Dig through the garbage again
I need some real food to fill me in
So cold tonight
Look at the pretty hottie
But **** yo you ******* expensive
How come things are like that
I sleep in a bed when my fellow humans can’t get a roof over their heads
Oh right they don’t have that type of green
So why should we care bout their well being
They aren’t slaves to the dime
Why should things be like this it is ******* sickening how our world has become. Till when are we gonna keep silent
Big brother why are you taking his hugs away
Mother can love us all
It not fair
Some of us keep ranting about how cold it is. People be thankful you have something to cover yourself up. Or you know what? There are people out there whom question why are we even a part of this world. No food, clean water, clothes, heater, no medical care, safety, and simply dream of a roof over their heads.
How did we degrade this far?
How come there are people like that?
It’s ******* shameful how we allowed things to become.
We kept quiet for so long voice is simply gone.
We cared about the dime, and lost focus about what makes us feel alive.
We all should be living life in a world filled with love and care
Our earth had enough scars to bare
I am just sick and tired
Bout yea know
Just being a slave to the dime.
Àŧùl Jun 2015
Salty or spicy,
Hottie or cold,
Always new,
Never old.
A short 10 words poem.

Love is like wine,
The older, the better.

My HP Poem #881
©Atul Kaushal
Del Maximo Jul 2015
his golden chariot climbs high
pulled by four fiery steeds
his corona ablaze
shining and radiant
bringing light and warmth
to a mundane world
rising in the east
setting in the west
from horizon to horizon
for eternity
his only respite
was resting inside a golden cup
catching the red eye back east
via Oceanus
to start the day again

a solemn, solitary figure
dedicated to daily duty
Zephyr felt pity for him
she whispered a sweet perfume
that struck him like Eros’ arrow
his eyes followed his nose
he spied a maiden so fair
frolicking amidst flora and fauna
a wreath of yarrow crowning her hair
Helios had never taken notice
of mortals before
but found her beguiling
an innocent, unassuming hottie
so unlike the haughty goddesses
he left his chariot
to pursue her visage
the earth plunged into cold darkness
as mighty Atlas moved his shoulders
trying to see what was the matter
the earth quaked
humans shrieked in fear
“The gods have forsaken us!”

Zeus heard the commotion
and looked down from Olympus
he found Helios gazing upon his lady
entranced as if by Sirens’ call
unaware of the darkness
entrenching earth
enraged, Zeus hurled a lightning bolt
temporarily blinding Helios
shaking him from his stupor
Helios blushed with shame
for his dereliction of duty
creating the first red sunset
as he climbed back into his chariot
in a pre-emptive strike
a preventive measure
Zeus erased Helios’ memory
and first froze the girl in a block of ice
but took pity on her
and transformed her into a cloud
to the delight of humans
Helios resumed his duties
oblivious to the eclipse of his memory
but somehow feeling strangely at loss

to this day
every now and then
on the rarest of occasions
he would glimpse a peculiar icy cloud
dancing before him
uncertain as to why he would notice
one cloud from so many
he would just smile brightly
and carry on
© 07/17/2015  This is to explain the sun shining through a cloud of ice crystals resulting in a "dancing" light in the sky.
Alan W Jankowski Nov 2011
Went to the local go-go to see what’s shaking,
Found me a hottie who was really quaking,
Moving to the music, the pulsing beat,
This young beauty was light on her feet,
Back arched, legs high in the air,
As I sat with my drink, I just had to stare,
This young thing was really on fire,
So much energy, seemed she’d never tire,
She soon had the crowd eating out of her hand,
Watching her was more than I could stand,
I then called over the cocktail waitress,
A hot looking babe in a tight mini-dress,
I said to her, ‘Get the lady a drink.’
Buying some time, I started to think,
This little dancer just looked so fine,
I had to walk over and throw her a line,
I see you’re a girl who likes to climb poles,
Well, I’m a guy who likes to fill holes,
If you’re a girl who likes to dance,
I got a pole hiding in my pants,
She got on my lap with that big behind,
Moving to the beat, she started to grind,
Working her body nice and slow,
The tent in my pants starting to grow,
I reached forward and grabbed her ****,
As she reached down and stroked my nut,
As I reached forward and stroked her thigh,
She glanced back and looked me in the eye,
She looked at me and called me ‘Honey.’
Pretty soon I had spent all my money,
I left the bar completely broke,
Had to go home and start to stroke,
But I’ll never forget that hot looking chick,
Who left me broke and stroking my ****.

03-27-10.
Not sure if this is really "explicit" but best err on the side of caution...just another little humorous ditty with ****** overtones...
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
Falen Acon:
1.THE NERD...
He liked to read and was a straight A student and was very shy. (1 day relationship)
2. THE HOTTIE...
He was in love with himself and he hogged the mirror. (5 day relationship)
3. THE ****...
He was to obsessed with football, basketball, track, and baseball and didn't pay me any attention and was to rough. (5 week relationship)
4. THE SKATER...
He cheated on me pretty much the whole time we went out and he had angry issues. (2 week relationship)
5. THE GAMER...
He played to many video games and was kind of forceful. (1 month relationship)
6.THE SMOKER...
He smoked to much **** and ciggs and i smelt like it and i don't even smoke and he was way to touchy and he fought to much. (1 month relationship)

Alexandria Christine Lund:
Top 5 worst boyfriends/girlfriends:
1. The 2 timer- She whined to much and apparently had a boyfriend, she wanted ***, and was totally indecisive. (5 days)
2. The Stoner- He spent his time doing drugs and only wanted ***. (3 months)
3. The Wannabe- He always wanted something else because I didn't fit in, he always lied he made up excuses even cheated. (5 months off and on)
4. The Fighter- He kept bragging about the military and wanted to constantly fight. (2 months)
5. The Worst- He treated me like a game, I made sure he never won it. (2 weeks)
written by: me and cowritter by:Alexandria Christine Lund ...I know that this isn't a poem for real i just got bored. It has how long our relationship lasted... never again.
She fell from the skies
Couldn't keep floating on the lies
Pretending to be
What everyone wanted to see
An angel with papier-mâché wings
She was a Lamborghini riddled with dings
But to all she was a hottie
Driving around in a stolen Bugatti
Saying all the right things in your ear
If she couldn't have her way shed a tear
All those around her wanted
To give her all she desired undaunted
None the wiser
The next burst from this geyser
Could obliterate them all
It seemed she would never fall
From the clouds she rode
Even as her halo no longer glowed
Because all were blind
None the secret could find
But all this caught up to her
Only so much could be hidden
Behind the sheer gossamer
Of their eyes a veil eaten away by lichen
Truth be told she was still a breath taker
But the joy ride was over for this faker...
© okpoet
I confess I’m addicted to my phone
My observations tell me I’m not alone
For when you venture out it’s plain to see
The majority of us are glued to our screens

Whether on the tube or pushing a pram
We all have devices in our hands
Surfing the net or social networking
Everyone obsessed with being plugged in

It’s getting so bad even in company
We’re not fully there as we view our screens
And now there are warnings from TFL
Not to fall down escalators as a result of this swell

In checking our messages, writing posts
Face to face interaction up in smoke
We’d rather be alone in the cyber world
Than engaging in reality with other boys and girls

It is an epidemic that’s spreading extremely fast
Thus it seems that human contact
could become a thing of the past
No need to leave the house anymore
When everything can be ordered and delivered to your door

A society of zombies isolated could we become
If we don’t down devices and venture out into the scrum
And mingle with other beings physically there
Where we can look them in the eye
and maintain that stare

Connecting on a basic level without the aid of WiFi
And concentrating on each other
instead of being distracted by
Notifications and little beeps
Incoming communication that never sleeps

And keeps you up all night as your brain just can’t switch off
From all the incessant stimuli we’re inundated with
Time to give it a rest, take a break just for a while
Look up from your laptops and perhaps give someone a smile

Watch where you are going, don’t get yourself run over
Be present in the moment and you hopefully won’t fall over
Have a coffee with someone instead of instant messaging
Regard the world around you taking note of everything

Don’t zone out and go into a solitary trance
Assemble your tribe, spin some tunes, have a little dance
Limit your time on the World Wide Web
Grab yourself a hottie and get jiggy with them instead

I’m talking to myself
As well as anyone else
Your family and chums are precious
And deserve nothing less

Than your undivided attention
For one day there’ll come a time
When perhaps they’re no longer around
And you regret being online.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
only today i learned ø denotes
        an encoding of diameter,
and it's Scandinavian,
                     or how the globe is
past the equator,
         and the lob-sided earth,
winters in Australia in the Summer months
in Europe.

    high philosophy begins with Beijing
dialectical highs,
    but take the route of lower philosophy
and encounter diacritics rather than dialectics,
because that matters, too,
        θought, a moral ought,
   and φilosoφy - and missing ought -
          and the two being irreversibly twins
in said... or θought an immoral ought,
                 sure, tubes, mistook ø74 for something
akin to φ...
    high philosophy never acquires a diacritical
dilemma...
                  or why local don't do anything
but actuate automatic application
   and those immigrant, or bilingual troops question...
    ø = diameter, not to be confused with the θ;
             higher philosophy begins with dialectical
beginnings,
               "lower" philosophy also begins with
dialectics, but it ends with diacritical application,
rather than utopian: nowhere from nothing.

what am i going to say next? *machado de assis's

philosopher or dog? introduction.

          ........................................­..................................
..............................­......................................................
..........­.................................................................­.........
.......................................................­.............................
...................................­.................................................
...............­.................................................................­....
............................................................­...........
(or a paragraph on the pleasure of drinking,
    or how to save you an optometrist appointment,
or how to take an interlude,
   to do the opposite of the Andy Warhol stipend
for making enough buggers hearing your
opinion, unchallenged,
                    but never having a diacritic concern).
hence the pending, or what everyone seems to
desire these days, circa 100 years later,
     how to provoke an interlude, how to hunger
for interludes rather than fame,
           i also drew a sketch before starting,
       shat -
                  and hey presto!
           ****!
                   yuck in orange in florescent.
yellow (florescent), F, pretty pretty pretty,
          in pink the bit about diameters and phi,
           again in yuck orange: swigs and the wiggle...
a paged concern for graffiti.
                  again, pending, yet to be hottie
and poster boy of a poem,
        again the impromptu break worth of fame that
actually isn't fame, but a chance to compare
                   how much whiskey makes up for the
Niagara continuum.
        again, (pending):
............................................... (how the hell do you
write pending ~15 minutes later?!)

the concept of Monday is greatly undermined
by Darwinism,
    as is Tuesday through to Sunday,
generally the function-able week desists the idea
of an Iron Age, as does the pantomime
of all that's worth celebrating -
generally speaking Darwinism is anti-history,
theology has nothing to ask of Darwinism
to argue against,
                             theology isn't a history,
but Darwinism is the purest variation
of history, variance of how we define logic
and its applicability, whether it's
i + think            /             1 + 1
    and have the moral attraction toward a 2
         or variate a moral action into a 3:
cos Radiohead simply sang 2 + 2 = 5 in a song:
cheat! matchstick principle regarding counting!
machado de assis? Darwinism is peppered with
overt imagery than salted with:
you get to sneeze a lot...
             a writer's voice: irony, mockery,
         consolidating the lessened counter-productiveness...
Flaubert, Dickens, Zola, Balzac, etc.,
                    homie, rap that **** out, condense it,
i thought Brazil was half the way America should have
endeared you? i had problems with Prussia
Austria and Russia... guess i was wrong how thuggish
i had to be with the Orpheus *******...
       cos the lyre was dumbo blunt deaf and therefore
cacka...
     higher philosophy begins with dialectics,
"lower" philosophy begins with diacritics -
     a return to the source, a debate with Ivory scales
concerning the Rosetta - a neo-formatting of
what's quiete
                           right: Sophia: hence anew: Rosetta.
and all for the pear that's woman and whether Satan
chose the fruit prudently according to Milton.
or the progress of a drunk:
centipedes and Fitzgeralds, Hemingways,
lust and last said...
                           the cf. of every apparent transitory
made to provoke the quasi and quack,
              ducking the Donald and the *****,
in agreement,
                     a happiness toward the tiresome
encrusting of what's worth being stated,
and then the deviatory,
                              as marketed a deviation
from a Louis Napoleon -
                                    because no Belarus was
to be chequered by an impeding force...
                      hence the cha cha cha...
                                    and hence the stanzas of
Argentinian tango...
              juicy and later the cruelty choking
of what some might make of Macbeath's habitual thinking
                                       worthy of a classroom
                audience; and that too is
exposable in return for being disposable.
higher philosophy is regarded as such with
dialectics,
                        but "lower" philosophy is
yet to be regarded as such with diacritics -
     not a case of what's to be said, and thus bedded,
but a case of how's something said,
                                and thus given a freedom
of: bedded, wedded, pimped, or whimpered into
                                     surviving writing a poem about;
also achieved by Humphrey and that chuckle of
revising Casablanca for an unnecessary quote dynamic /
diatribe when Hiroshima said
                 much more than the above certified:
boom! 1 million ******* dead.
       that's an overt-quote that gropes the many
amens among the citations of Marilyn, and still gets away
with                     a memory of J.F.K.,
           because that ****-honing masterpiece
was needing my memory rather
                                   than a b. b. q.    scewing.
          i find people rather forgetting:
jeopardy battered boundless gym orientational
                     thoughtless two shots of tequilas
            and three paraphrases of sours in biting a lemon
to upkeep a trough of a suntan with the H-He:
boom boom, higher tier laughter,
             ingesting that inflation of prop
                    boom boom, v bomber,
                     squeeze...
                    lob-side lo & behold,
                                       'n'        - squiggly extra thus born.
She was my non sequitur;  
Like that hottie
From the south of Ecuador,
So nice yet so ******;
But this one was my interrobang
Questionable excitement,
To her laughter my ears lent
Cautious echoes that sang,
Of the skies sunny and blue
Where the beaches were
Anything but mild
And the babes
They were so wild,
Yet the endless raves
Seemed so few.
As she was my turbulence
Distraction under calm seas,
****** cadence
With a purr
Like a swarm of bees,
No other will equate to her,
Why I met her; and never will again
I'll never know for sure, but then
Aren't those the ones we yearn the most for‽
APAD13 012 - © okpoet
John F McCullagh Jan 2012
If Rex Ryan got the nod
and was cast as Cindy’s prince.
The play would run much longer
than it had before or since.

When the royal decree went out
To the maidens of the land
To display their pedicures
Rex would be close at hand.

He would visit every maiden
and some hottie matrons too.
Caressing Paula’s bunions
And sniffing Jennie’s shoe..

And when he got to Cindy’s shack,
He’d take her feet in hand
And ease the pain she suffered
last night dancing with a ham.

“You have such pretty little feet,
I really hope its you.
Alas, I have no way to check,
as I forgot the shoe.”
Rex Ryan, the outspoken coach of the New York Jets football team was discovered to have a ******* which was "outed" in the form of a You tube video. He really likes feet which led me to think about the disastrous decision it would be to cast him as the Prince in a staged version of Cinderella.
Lex Dec 2017
You look at my body
And tell me i'm pretty
I turn away and you say
"Dang what a hottie"

Why is it that every time i hear
a catcall or whistle
instead of feeling good  
I turn in anger and I bristle

I wish when you saw my curves
you wouldn't gawk
instead walk over to me
and let's talk

I feel nasty in my own skin
I shrink out of embarrassment
uncomfortable in the only place I've ever been
wishing more than anything that I had no body

I fear that the only reason you like me
is not for my heart
wish that wasn't how it has to be
but that's how it's been from the start

So I will ask now
how
when
who
will love me, for me?
~LJ
NeroameeAlucard Jun 2015
So you ripped my heart out of my chest
in a public area no ******* less
I'm hurt yeah, but I'm far from dead
so now I'm gonna **** with your head

That friend you have, the blonde with the curvy body
you may not know but I always thought she was a hottie
and before we met she actually told me she felt the same
So I called her up with fantasies untamed.

I took those pictures we took together then burned them on the beach,
I sold all the stuff I had bought you each and every jewellery piece,
And your friend? oh we ****** on your favorite sweater
so now until you wash it her ***** juices and smell will remain on it forever.

All the stuff we wanted to try? I did them all with her.
I tied her up, she did the same to me
and I caressed her every juicy curve.
At the office? oh yeah I ****** her at my desk,
you know the one thing we always wanted to try?
well I ravaged her at my desk, in front of my co-workers shocked and aroused eyes.

So thanks for breaking my heart you pitiful *****,
thank you for putting my dignity in a sling.
because I found out Over this week
is that revenge is a funny thing...
Once again word to ****** for inspiration
dennis gunsteen Dec 2010
that so jersey shore.
when go in club  i
know i'am  hot,
i'am god gift to women
and all women flock to me
that is so jersey shore of me.
now don't forget!!!
i'am creeping  that  scene
at that club to night.
now???
i wonder if i'll  score
tonight.
gots  me a degree  from
school of jersey shore
study all those cool
move.
on the tube you see
to be a  true player in life.
from school of jersey shore.
i use to be that geek in school
i have true game now.
i have awesome dates
with all them hottie now.
thank's  jersey shore dudes
you change this geek
into a  player.
you have awesome
school of higher  learning,
dudes?????
Sam Temple Jan 2016
Sweet sweet powder
Sweet sweet powder
Cutting keys wit flour
****** man of the hour
It’s the sweet sweet powder
Sweet sweet powder
Lookin down from the tower
Homeboy, I got all the power

It’s the sweet sweet powder
Like I’m raven from the bowery
I be hittin fools wit trash cans
Wake em up in bout an hour
With that sweet sweet powder
Shootin three ***** like crowder
Hollarin hella louder
Like Aretha in the shower
Got that sweet sweet powder
That I’m given to the *******
Never ****** with those snitches
That are wearing goodwill britches
No I roll with the
Sweet sweet powder
Been running through the ditches
Eating salty ham sandwiches
You act like I don’t know riches
I know that

Sweet sweet powder
Be cutting keys wit flour
I’m da man of the hour
Jumpin in the shower
With the sweet sweet powder
On the ivory tower
Pimpin tricks by the hour
Holding all the ****** power
Got that sweet sweet powder

Now wit that sweet sweet powder
I get ******* like a Scotty
****** Baio was hottie
But with that sweet sweet powder
He coulda ****** gotten Molly
Little Ringwald in her prime time
Slap that *** like a hate crime
Sweet sweet powder blowin my mind

I got that sweet sweet powder
Fuckim man of the hour
Rollin with robin trower
Acting like a lil bow-er
With my sweet sweet powder
Turning trick by the hour
Showering with power
Giving ******* flowers
Got that sweet sweet powder
Zac Walter Feb 2014
Smoke rolls off your lips
As raindrops drip
Off the roof, above where you sit
Barely missing the lit end
Of your cigarrette
And ill make you a bet
By the end of this night
None of this will mean ****
Youll be to drunk to remember it

Youll run down back alleys
With girls you jusy met from cali
Away from cops tryna tally
You up as an arrest
Rally the rest
Into a **** sesh like youre towlie
Find all your friends have left
Have to hitch-hike back to campus
A drunken high mess

But when the next test comes
Youll drink away your stress
Head to the closest party
Spend all your money on drugs, not rent
But when that doesnt help you vent
Climb into bed with that hottie you just met

Yeah *****
This is college
After this were all set... right?
Or should we think bout whats next? ... G'night
Andrew Robertson Aug 2014
As I watch closely,
Expertly stalking my prey,
She still amazes me.
Her brilliant blue eyes
Are deep as the ocean floor and
As wide as the starry sky.
Her confident walk ablaze,
So stunning and rare,
Enchant all who gaze.
Her vivacious body,
So curvy and precise,
What a Hottie!
She is simply divine.
If I could have one thing,
I'd wish she were mine!


Written By:
Andrew D. Robertson
Geno Cattouse Jun 2013
Freddy shuffles along to the beat of his own drum
though deep inside his soulless self, Freddy wishes he could still run
Dreams of chasing down a pop fly at the park haunt his errant dreams

Freddy is a Zombie now. No more nights out at the club.
or To 24 hour fitness for a quick grunt and sweat.Freddy is the walking dead
Life took a sudden turn.

Poor Fred.Always hungry for things he cannot have like a fresh gushing
bite from a 20 year old hottie. Cant run them down like before.
The boy has lost a step or two. and a couple of toes squish around in his shoe
oh no.
Thinks Fred.
This Undead thing bites ***
and it really wont do

Yeah.
A Mani/Pedi.
Thinks Freddy and a new pair of kicks.
Fast Freddy.
Jaymisun Kearney Nov 2013
Sometimes (Often)
People (Men)
On social networking (Dating)
Websites
Genuinely scare me

The thing is, though
--and it's a good thing--
is that when people contact you first
it's a reverse book-by-cover scenario
so my judgment is justified and there's nothing to feel bad about

"i leik to getta no you betta mmmmmmmyeah fkin hottie"
He says, so I go and look at his pictures
Suspicion confirmed
He says on his profile he likes gettin nekkid
Stays up late at night
He says his pad is so cool he parties all the time
Such frightening size
He looks like he could be on the cover of an Aryan prison gang documentary

If this situation were bottom to top and not top to bottom
then I might feel bad but
when you lay your cards
out first and eager
and you scare the **** out of me
I don't feel so bad
Claire Walters Jul 2015
I wish I could fly
I wish I could die
I wish I could spend more time with my dad
I wish I could start a fad
I wish I wasn't so much of a home body
I wish I could be a super model hottie
I wish I could be loved
I wish I could have a dove
I wish I could finally make a wish and have it come true
I wish I would just stop thinking about me and you
I wish I could stop wishing
I wish I could go fishing
I wish the world would be a better place
I wish the blind could see
I wish the deaf could hear
I wish the homeless had homes
I wish the poor were rich
I wish the mean people we're nice
I wish the diseased always had a cure
I wish the racists would stop being racist
I wish the homophobes loved gays
I wish that cancer would disappear
I wish that there weren't any fear
I wish that the bad people wouldn't be here
I wish that we could see the thunder
I wish that all of us could wonder
Ronald D Lanor Jan 2013
You’re sweet like candy to my soul.
That’s why you’re my sweetheart.

You make me melt like a popsicle.
That’s why you’re my hottie.

You make me feel like a little kid.
That’s why you’re my baby.

You make me buzz like a bee.
That’s why you’re my honey.

You make me feel frozen in headlights.
That’s why you’re my dear.

You make me the happiest person in the world.
That’s why you’re my love.
Travis Green May 2022
Your broad and solid body
Is the hottest flex that exhilarates me
With your monstrously armored charmingness
I lose myself in your immaculate kinematic majesty
Your dazzling bare flesh, so impressively molded

I long to flow into the dopeness
Of your great thumping hunkiness
Kiss your bright, youthful lips
Your thick succulent neck
Your blonde hypnotic suavity
Has me impossibly rhapsodic

Oil-slicked, sun-kissed marvelocity
Powerfully built like a heavy-duty
Long-haul tractor-trailer
Cocky saucy hottie
I fall into your beefy bewitching virility

— The End —