"inseminate" poems
if ever there were
gods or goddesses of desert
of the drylands
of parched earth some call home
they would be surprised to learn
of the miracle of
this Spring deluge
unfurling forth
from deep within
the crusty dermis
of this sublunar territory:
hydrangea and ***** apple flower,
intermingling their hues
of mauve and lilacs,
as well as the color of sky
blooms of the succulents
popping open
in celebratory dance
in wild fuschia
sunray butter:
a dazzling botanic trance
hollyhocks of magenta,
veils of bougainvellia, too
sweetpea clusters
curling in the trellis
weaving heavy-scented magic
through and through
a private orchard of lemon tree, and apple
olive and pistachio grove
One would not guess
the endless giving
of this desert treasure trove
And I feel like a goddess
of mythology softly spun
like Demeter, or Ceres
ancient Egyptian Renenutet
my hands spread out
in the licks of gentle sun
for as spring pours forth its honey
all through this barren land
I , too reawake
and flush out all the infected,
dust-scratched sand
I welcome in
the waters of abundance,
of love, of light under stars
let new energy wash out
old poisons
my radiance spilling far
Reaching out unto the Universe,
cradling this heart
I cup the buds of blooms,
of nectar
to inseminate my dark
allowing me
to release the past
and seed within me, lit
the atoms
of new
start
unfolding bit
by tender
bit
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 10:05 AM UTC
**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
It is
Whatever you want it to be.
How you perceive is your perception,
Your perspective is not deception
-But why are we so reluctant to make use of affection?
The detection of attraction exhibits bits of satisfaction
That neither of us can speak of.
If push comes to shove,
Don't make me make you fall in love.
If I can't have your body
I don't want no body.
Celibacy.
It will be a delicacy to insituate the thoughts that insituate your time
I'll obituate your loss
And re-birth worth in your mind-
The situation
Is a mind **** manipulation.
I will eliminate the
No
And inseminate the
Yes
Undressed across your expression
The progression
Of **********
The contents of your mind until you bare a confessional corruption
For when mutuality is in play;
Manipulation is just seduction.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
January,
rare
cross hatched
jet
conrtrails
inseminate
this receptive Carolina sun,
Emblazing this mountain azure sky,
framming Appalachian
repeat
peaks ,
terrace stone floors,
and hardwood grandeur.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 10:15 PM UTC
Our times are filled with wonderment!
Today, the news announced
that a same *** couple
would soon be able
to inseminate each other.
No, that's not right.
Please excuse the foolpaux,
My facts are in Eros.
I'll start again,
Today, scientist announced
that they were able
To stem two mice cells
Into a wee one,
Which holds the promise
That some day
Two committed gals, or guys
would be able to have a little bubala.
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 5:06 PM UTC
She comes to me, my Guardian Angel
And I apprehend with my little heart shaped
tool of ken, the luminosity of the Source
Crashes through the aurora into the
Stratosphere and she is near here supposing
the infinite beginning
All over again
an integrity, bright white light
Without temperature, she says, “Yes,
You are a mortal immortal…”
she demonstrates her
torrid honor, dignity and warm
Fervor always available in her cosmic &
Iridescent timetable, her dispatch of
Provisions astonishes my worry,
I call her Miss
Instance immemorial,
She warns of the fans of death and the boon
cosmos encompassing the faithful
The synchronicities she broke apart
And mended, to inseminate the nick of
Time with God-seeds sown into my heart-
she gave me love engulfing time…
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
I have seen a lot, yet I've -
not seen enough.
It’s all been gone for so long now,
And time has forgotten us.
Mangled, crude, palettes of motion,
dizzying the senses;
All trying to deactivate,
and acknowledge the moment.
… You are eternal in thought.
I haven’t seen enough. You still
tell me, a lot.
Our faces will change in the night,
but yore memories will not.
Melodious, compulsive, silences in rhythm,
enrapturing harmonics;
Desperate to inseminate,
in which, we are broken.
… You are eternal in me.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
*need a cold shower
then things get a bit too hot
inseminate drain* :)
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
i called up my momma
but she wouldn't answer
gettin' old but still feel like a child
i went to my doctor
but he just turned ninety
writes scripts with a wink and a smile
dialed the phone to my lawyer
she sent it to voicemail
debts piling up in my file
texted friends far and near
honesty is too sincere
alone i will walk this mile
eyes
don't wanna see
mediocrity
drivin' through the tunnels,
hold your breath but don't fall asleep
high eyes
wanna be free
like virginity
drivin' through the tunnels,
hold your breath but don't fall asleep
i can't be liable
for all of your pleas
the'll inseminate some
just like a bee
those falling crumbs
swept meticulously
in the long run
please incriminate me
i'm your foot off the brake
the gear's now in neutral
you can turn a deaf ear
although it will be futile
pry your hands off the wheel
while you try to escape
don't take your last breath
foreseen cannot forsake...
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 12:56 AM UTC
Beauty, poise, and dignity dancing a three-way tango
Was the essence of her iridescent message
Told to the world at the sight of her presence
Every man goes head sprung to see her hips graze as the
Wind's swift nip tips her midi to lay smooth on her left hip
And her hair whipped by whisks to sift sunlight drips
Eyes dip-dyed in henna she burns passion on a
Narrowly paved road into a man's soul.
But she's just a fabulous face and glorious shape
Protecting her chaste from
Men who's glancing trails she can trace to
That untapped place she takes pride in and embraced.
So this woman who goes on a date
With the fraudulent fake who was gay to
**** her to her face and
Inseminate,
Resulting in the corruption of her precious womb and
Transforming it into a tomb for
His devil spawn to be drawn from,
Has one of two fates?
She can get down on her knees and plead with
Jesus to be free from this ghastly beast that
Grows deep within her integrity
Pray that a robber could steal this
Non-consensual deal that
She can't yet feel multiplying inside her.
Let fate take the reigns and pave the lane
For the blood to drain from her vaginal pane and
Her popped cherry will miscarry?
OR
As dignified a life she lives, she could take back all that freedom she was stripped of in the first place
She could make a choice and have a voice about her own birth space.
Because it's hers and he didn't understand that in the first case.
The jury rests; Her body Her rules, at Her pace
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
there is a piece of literature out there
waiting for me to inseminate it.
it lies in a gutter somewhere,
or in the woods,
with no concern for the present.
no concern for shelter.
it sits, lies, waits,
walks and paces and worries,
coping with my absense by touching itself into a shuddering cramped pile
breathing like a dog chased a car in the sun through the neighborhood
then overcome with the smell of the heat from another dog.
wet with its own slobber
it is pure temptation throbbing at the body and frothing from every hole.
its obsession is mindless.
drooling on its naked self,
dehydrating and dying.
so wet with want that if it were to find me it would jump into my healthy hands and slip right through their distracted hold;
******* the air until it hit the ground at my feet, then half consciously ******* my toes.
it is muttering my name into a blanket of leaves and trash and squirming with a fever so bright as to bury itself slowly into the soft dirt.
drowning in time.
giving sick births to an excrement of unformed consonants and concepts.
it becomes lines of light
enscribed in a holy vacuum
as i sit here making love to this-
it dies now,
in the very same moment
that i waste my seed uncaringly
on these nice young healthy words
only as a tool to help me sleep.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
Life,
Inseminate
Incubate
Indoctrinate
Assassinate
why wait?
do it now.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
I display
And when you choose,
I become the Love Bug.
I will take radical decisions.
I will trespass any removable plug.
I will submit myself.
I will lock my phallus in you,
And I will toss away the key.
Only I can inseminate you.
The rest of my life
Will be spent in copulation.
Only death will put an end
To my commitment.
Only death will do us apart.
And when I die,
You will be destined
To drag me around
Until you give birth to
Another Love Bug.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 1:57 AM UTC
**** the society
that tries to
inseminate me
with hateful
violent tendency.
**** those laws
that cause
liberty to be
denied to those
who don’t
make as much money
are look the same as me.
**** those reality stars.
Stuck up,
liposucked
money mongering
artificial
Hollywood housewives
that sell lies.
**** those fake
pop stars
who claim
their art is
making them
brilliant artists
when it is just
poison
their bringing.
**** me for singing,
poetry writing,
Not injustice fighting
cause I enjoy my
lazy lifestyle
and social justice
seems like a losing war.
A hundred battles
I lost before
I even started;
Fucccccckkkk.
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
Let my words caress your body,
open your mind and let them slide in.
Let them tickle your thoughts,
take your mind to the brink of sin.
Let my words wrap you in warmth,
release all your insecurities within.
Let them kiss memories of the past,
take you to cherished places you’ve been.
Let my words over power your inhibition,
succumb to their devise.
Let them nibble at your ears,
run wet lips inward on your thighs.
Let my words cuddle you tight,
safely in their grasp, limp you lie.
Let them inseminate passion into your life,
show you a love no other can quantify.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
incessant dilemmas;
infinite
abstinent solutions;
Nonexistent
inserted into an age
of malevolent agenda
overflowing center stage
a non-sentient vendetta
in consensus that,
ignorance is venomous,
belligerent indefinite;
self-distruction now immanent
ominous the problematic incident;
consequence from beings omniscient
for insolence of the unintelligent
across anonymous continents
triangulate,
mimic the intricate
not so distant
instant of inseminate
fruition came to the human condition
maturation a simulation
innovation in creation
Though what comes after,
disaster,
devastation,
loss,
temptation,
last stop,
"Necropolis Station"
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 6:44 AM UTC