"itsy" poems
****** affliction of a lack of affection companion
Hand and hand strolling greater than syrupy plunging
and even sometimes buddy shrugging over wooden noisemakers
We whistle with their metal strings
and through the pasta soft ones in our throats
but no nest colored mares seem to hear
our flamboyant feather calls for future fondling
So I scribe slight implied short letters
invites to drink joints and nature jaunts
All too well thought out
hoping your advanced technology cannot trace
the time I spent to type
The overanalysis of our psych: her and I’s
wondering why she doesn’t have an inkling
for a cute fall date where we attempt to bake apple pies
It’s all too contrived, I know
I’ll strive for delusion
Accept a useful interpretation for our chemical inflammation
and let sparks pass it by
Like itsy bitsy flies laying eggs in a wound
for stagnant water maggots
They’ll eat away the thought well
where all my cranial zaps seem to dwell.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
honey on a lightbulb
in the hopes
for shiny bees
and itsy bitsy blankets
for the bed bugs
just trying to sleep
i feel bad for planets
galaxies and milkshakes
unable to receive
pick up my phone call
sun
pick up the moon
dreams
i am sorry for the things
i don't understand
the soap bubbles and the seams
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout
Soaring high.
The reds,
the blues,
nothing could ever be more different than those two colors right now.
It's beautiful and so are you,
my lovely friend.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out
Feeling low.
The headaches,
and the sleepless nights,
nothing can ever bring me back to where I was before.
My horse has a name and he is loyal,
he is my friend.
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain
Thirsty.
The sun,
combined with the noise burns me,
how long was I asleep for?
My enemy will put up a fierce fight,
but not for long.
I can fight this.
The itsy bitsy spider climber up the spout again
The chain is addiction
and the links are euphoria.
One end is a bent steel pole.
Me.
On the other is a needle.
My lovely horse.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
It burns me up inside
How together you appear to be
I know my own temperament
It’s magmatic, though its not what you see
Like a scorpion, it stings me bitter
The poison spreads into my eyes, trachea
Like a starfish surviving on the shore,
I deny my slow death and call upon my inner mafia
I fight myself away from the border
Right by there, I see you cope
A concentration chamber, my mind has become
I burn like paper, letting my ashes elope
With the itsy bits of rubble remaining
Somehow I awaken, with a brush and pan
I kneel and scrape, dust and cleanse
To become a phoenix and rise from my death again.
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
It's like you have a Lego house.
You're just an itsy bitsy tiny little lego guy.
You've been working really hard on this Lego house.
Every day it seems to get a little better, a little bigger.
And then one day you see storm clouds
And something just feels off,
like you feel it the moment you open your eyes in the morning
but you ignore it because you think it'll go away,
you've been here before,
it's probably just another tiny storm.
But you've underestimated it.
it's not just a tiny storm
it's a monsoon
and now it's ripping apart your Lego house from the inside.
And you don't call anyone for help
because they'd say
"oh, again?"
So you stand there
watching this monsoon tear down something that's taken you weeks to rebuild.
But you understand the routine.
When it's over
you rest.
Because that's all you can do.
And when you wake up
you add that very first Lego block
And you start building again.
You don't know where it is
You don't know when it'll be back
But you keep building
Because that's what they tell you you have to do.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
Itsy bitsy spider
crawling in deceit
along came the truth
and stomped it with its feet
Down came the shoe
and squashed it’s organs out
splat like a web of lies
it’s bits all about
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 4:54 PM UTC
It's 3:43am and I'm wondering if the spider in the corner of my bathroom is dreaming
I wonder if she knows about the sun and if she ever dreams of weaving a web in the moonlight
I wonder if she knows what I'm saying when I tell her "don't worry, i'll keep you safe" and I wonder if she believes me
Nov 27, 2024
Nov 27, 2024 at 9:47 AM UTC
it's the little things
that please me
color coded my earbuds
so I know my right from my left
in the pitch black.
it's the little things
that please me,
and the big things
that defeat me.
I'm rich in itty-bittys
**There are no definitions available for itty-bittys.
Did you mean:
itsy-bitsy titbits itty-bitty-butts?**
yeah,
all three, thanks for doing the writing for me.
some-a-day,
gonna get me a big big closet,
a whole closet room,
to store my itty bittys teeny weeny
tidbits riches.
if I make it to
some-a-day,
just can't find it on my calendar,
but every morning
I wake to big things
wishing me cruelly
have-a-nice-day.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap
you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry
you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****
you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood
you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers
you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid
you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat
you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint
Gomer LePoet ....
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 10:02 AM UTC
left cup runneth over/
right cup half empty/
if I add my left cup size to my right cup size what will I get/ DD + D = DDD/I've never been great at math/but this is no/miscalculation/
I am 36 DD confined to a 36 D bra/
(D)Disgorges over the underwire/
D--you flaccid beach ball/I wish I could reinflate you/part my mouth around your nipple/and/
breathe/
no one can tell/unless I wear a tight bodice/then/you are/obnoxiously evident/
I am afraid of introducing you to my future boyfriend/will he still want to undress me/will he still want to make love to me/
will he still want to touch you/
you/
sea urch/in/the palm of my hand/
even I am hesitant to hold you close to me/
you/
strangulated bagpipe/
moulting pompom/ ****
what's that spell/
what's that spel/
what's that spe/
what's that sp/
what's that s/
what's that/
what is that/
what/
who are you/
you/
waning gibbous/
my metaphors wane, also/it turns out there are only so many euphemisms that can be assigned to an/ill-proportioned breast/
itsy bitsy titsy/
you make me/
sad/
you/
teardrop defying the laws of gravity/
or/
is it the laws of gravity that defy the teardrop/so that it never falls into/
place/
I've noticed only/beautiful/things/
fall/
shooting stars/
autumn/
my left *****
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 5:19 PM UTC
I guess it's the end of my need for some ****
I guess all I got is thid lsd
Gee,
but really what care,
I'm not even hear
teleport to the couch,
met a pink bear,
he ate all my hair,
**** In my eye he cussed not to cry,
MR BEAR!
mr bear
you think I wont trip?
one hell of a fry,
YOU **** IN MY EYE!
back to the room bad trip oh woah doom,
hit my head 'Jingle~
;oh yea and I'm single
hey mr. spider, lend me your lighter
back in an hour,
I thaught you died in the shower?.
itsy? bitsy? ,
I'm just rather ditsy..
wait why am i wet?.......................
all for one bet,
;)_ jesse mckush
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
I gazed at her skin, fried and sprayed orange like the flames
That swallowed her soul, dragged her down to hell with ‘em…
Let her burn.
Staring at her sparkly stripper shoes, I wondered how she could sleep at night.
Well, she probably wasn’t alone.
Her hair, so harsh, bleached blonde beyond compare,
Frail, fraudulent, wannabe beauty
Like her shallow, gimmicky, stage get-up for the guys,
Giving the goods in mass quantity, like a buffet.
How cheap could she be?
I ogled her body, ***** that resembled balloons.
Psh. More like implants.
Honey, you’re not fooling anyone.
Her makeup, tacky and overdone.
It could never be plastered over her tattered self-worth.
I glared at her clothes, or lack thereof, itsy-bitsy and a poor excuse
For a cover-up, of any kind,
Physical or emotional.
Leave something to the imagination, would ya?
Some girls, how pathetic they are.
I’m better. I have morals.
Even if I don’t abide by them…
Even if I despise the creature I’ve transformed to…….
I gaped at the reflection, in the million-watt mirror lit aglow…
Who could this be? It never could be me.
Staring between false eyelashes, she was easy to see.
A party girl. A ***
No, no!
It’s not me…
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
Come in all you children and dance upon the sea. The coastline tides are dancing and gallivanting on the breeze. The elephant seals are floating in their carcasses, warm blood lakes thicken on the foam, dancing in the ripples the shivers of Leopard sharks party's throw. ***** slugs and combatants, early hours send cries through crustaceans of the spine, and glitter muscles entwined with porpoise to drink their brunches with new recipes of the brine. Fairy starling, aching heartache, shapes each coil of the coast, and tears apart the stardust of starfish sliding up the coast. Drinking from the salt licks that falling waters move, inside the bay the bluefins escape the hunters in their shoals. The itsy bitsy great white, crept into the beaches cove, but orca and dolphin chased him back into the deepest azures where the fur seals pup and milk.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
We faded like fragments
White bed sheet tales now
We used to smoke like trains
I think I can, I think I can.
Ashed in each others hearts once or twice
But I didn't mind
With the sunlight on your face
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
I crept across the sheets
Looking at you hungrily
Your eyes danced down my back
The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout
We collided without a sound
I watched your lips part
And muffled murmurs were all that escaped
Hush little baby, don't say a word.
But those tales are only tales
And these white sheets are empty now
I don't know why you left me
How I wonder where you are.
But I mourn for you like a dying lover
And while I do,
I long for another, to take your place
Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack. All dressed in black, black, black.
Yet no one aside from you,
Has taken the time to look inside
So, slowly, I find myself emptying
Ashes to ashes, we all fall down.
And so I wait. And I remember.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
It’s like you’re a pair of headphones—
coming in two different ears, and I’m bouncing
between one beat and the words that fall from my mouth
like ransom. I swear to god, if you’d just let me fall into you
the wreckage would be small, you’d just have to cradle me
like you do all the other bits that land in your lap
during the so called “suffocation” of your busy schedule.
I get that I’m too big to fit onto a calendar.
I get that sometimes I wear green just because it’s your favorite color.
But picture us together, and not with my clothes in a puddle
on the tile floor while the shower runs. Not with your hand
playing itsy-bitsy spider on my legs as you let your tongue
linger on the dips in my neck. Picture us on the sidewalk
with a lucky penny between our shoes, and how beautiful
our reflections would look even in that tiny surface area. Then,
imagine me in the stands with your over-sized t-shirt
and you could pick me out among the crowd. How about
our hands? Just picture them tangling together, your thick knuckles
knocking against my mother’s old ring. Or even take those circles you draw
on my hipbones and practice them on my palms.
I promise you it’s a lot prettier.
I promise you I know the route, I’ve been around that elliptical
that is your I’m sorry laced with every interpretation that is
YOU JUST DON’T FIT. I know I don’t fit,
and that you think we’re just too misshapen, but do you ever remember,
in that tipsy mind of yours, how slender my body fits into yours
like we’re two half-moons just making a sliver? I just wish you thought of me,
if at all, a little bigger.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 10:37 PM UTC
There was none of your itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie bikinis at a fashion show of vintage swimwear in aid of the Cleveland Pools.
The costumes on show on the catwalk at Green Park Station were a much more modest affair, with a lot less flesh on view, and with some very interesting costumes which seemed to amuse the younger audience.
The Vintage Swimwear fashion show celebrated the last 200 years of bathing suits – the pools celebrate their 200th birthday next year.
Costumes from the last two centuries were modelled down the catwalk, with some interesting reactions from the audience, many of them design or fashion students from Bath Spa University.
It was a great turnout according to Sally Helvey from the Cleveland Pools Trust.
"We had a great night, and it really was great fun," she said.
There was a bar and barbecue hosted by Green Park Brasserie, and ice cream from a vintage Humphry van.
The audience also enjoyed a photography booth, and picture and video slideshows.
The Cleveland Pools is the only surviving Georgian Lido in the country, with a beautiful outdoor pool nestling in the back woods by the River Avon near the Bathwick estate.
But it is very derelict and will need millions spent on it before it can be re-opened again to the public. Last summer the trust received the welcome news the amenity is to be granted more than £4 million from the Heritage Lottery Fund, so plans are in place to have the pools restored and open for use again possibly as early as 2017.
A lot more funding needs to be raised to try and match the funds given by the HLF, and the fashion show, organised by Bath Spa student Jenny Brown, was just one of many events being organised over the summer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
She ***** the sweetness of lust like taste of blood. Death hold grips can describes her hugs. They fall into a web, like the ones who finder. And now there all are hers, the Black Widow Spider. lured in the dark of her legs, sleek and black. Disregard the warning sign, Red hidden down the curve of her back. Fall into her into her mesmerize trap, Queen of seducers. lust at first sight waiting to turn hearts into stone like medusa. Dangerously 50 shades of black, which side of her they want? Games on your weakness, Russian Roulettes gun. Blindsided by her deceit, tangled in webs of her power. And now she feeds on their thoughts, like a brain ******* vampire. The beauty of her web, is persuasion of her femininity. Her birth is to gain your soul and her winning is her fertility. Because she will feed their starvation of love, and innocently build their esteem with everything she can think of. Create *** beyond their wildest fantasies. Drive them wild, begging for another hit down on their knees. Thriving off the lost of emotions, dominating feelings with full control. Then will leave them hanging when the festivities get all old. But the ones she scared will never understand. That the cuts from their abuser was caused by past life of a sexually abusive man. Is the price they pay worth their time?In the end to be hurt by a beautifully seductive mind. To be caught in the webs of a warm, wet place and lose a hold. Of Reality that this girl is pure selfish, untrustworthy and devilishly cold. foolishly loosing themselves in her body, While she’s alive for the fun but in reality is unattached with her body,a defense for untouchable, if they would only listen to whispers in the night, her body sings. To cope with her pain, A deaf man chooses not to hear this melody. The itsy bitsy spider, went up the waterspout, Down came her fangs and dried, his lonely heart out. Out comes the sun and hides her heart of pain, so the itsy bitsy spider waits to eats another one again. Black Widows Game
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap
you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry
you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****
you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood
you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers
you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid
you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat
you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint
Gomer LePoet ....
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
A fartle is a little ****
A tiny ***** teaser.
A puff of air, a piece of art,
An itsy sphincter sneezer.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
The itsy bitsy razor
crawled up her thighs last night
down came the blade and sliced, and sliced, and sliced
out came the blood and
drowned her demons dead
and the itsty bitzy razor
latched inside her head
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
oh
the seasons have changed again
ten shades darker and climbing
they forgot who I was
who I am
gaining momentum
the whiteness that used to insist
that I am white
is confused
now they are leaning towards
not letting me be white anymore
till next season all over again
but this is the season of darkness
I can see it in their eyes
hear it in their voices
mostly being black in America
has been the epitome
of non violent resistance
in the season of darkness
non violent coping mechanisms
to a violent abuser
an abuser
called law
called psychology
called whiteness
called economy
untreated domestic abuse
whiteness calls honors history
dissociating from the repair work
that the American family must face
ever since I was a little
itsy-bitsy - innocent boy
the thought
the imagination
of being able to take out
a militia of whiteness
with my body alone
if and when they get as worse as they are
always prepared for the worst of whiteness
no matter what you say
cannot fool me
can I be more violent?
better at it
so I can sleep for a little while
dreams like some of the white kids
except lucid
In the season of darkness
I can prove it all wrong
the whiteness
its story
the companies it keeps
I can breathe a whole new world out
and breathe in clarity
in the season of darkness
my afros
my mohawks
mean something different
suddenly
my worth
is being threatened with an officer’s gun
peacefully letting handcuffs on
violently beaten afterward
hand over mouth
face in the cement
should out of socket
sciatic nerve damage forever
put in a cell
for the trauma
to reverberate
and echo
back into itself
in the season of darkness
whiteness was overwhelmed
without fear
domino affected
occupied whiteness
brought it down to its knees
that one percent of whiteness
is enough to get us all killed
America
in the season of darkness
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
A gentle squeeze of the hand
A blushing cheek meets his eye
His heart aches, her cheeks blush
Like cherries in a hot pink pie.
He kisses her face, on the side
of her itsy bitsy nose.
She giggles, plays into his hands
Which is holding a **** rose.
His blood rushes round,
he enquires of her intention
She looks at her diary, free next week
the next day does not get a mention.
Disappointment darkens the hour
He fiddles with his tie
She grabs his tie and pulls him closer
and her wet sparkly lips taste of cherry pie.
So sweer the embrace, so full of "I want more"
She relaxes, his hand slides down
and unlocks the key of the door.
That key is stiff he thought
better loosen the grip
She pants, he blushes and
finally reveals her little slip.
So silky, so divine, it falls to the floor
So passionate, so forgiving
and she bolts hastily through the door.
"Come back" he shouts, but she has gone
"Not likely" she retorts, what's your game?
He is confused, as men usually are
"But I thought you wanted the same".
Men and women are from two planets
Men from Zog and women from mars.
Men, well we cant do without them
their annoying habits and love of cars.
Women, we are good stuff, I have to say
But at the end of the day, we're all the same
We like our love in the old fashioned way.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Some say life is a mystery waiting to be solved
But why search for answers when the human race won't evolve
We walk the streets hearing gun shots day by day
And now the park is no place for a child to play
We can't resolve our issues like civilized beings
And no matter how high the problem gets it just seems like we're stuck on endless mountains skiing
There are too many people shooting stars without any care
Leaving a sea of lifeless rose petals here and there
How can this world move on when everyone else dies out
It's like we're all itsy bitsy spiders that can't make it up the spout
We live in a world filled with despair, hope and violence
And there are too many people sitting quiet with their voices being silenced
We all need to stop and come together as one nation
Move on higher to new places and make heaven our new destination
The time is just elapsing before we see the revelation
You better choose your path Heaven or Hell, which path will you be on after the segregation?
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
^
^
^
^
(( <<^>>))
//// • ||
<>
)
#####
/\ /\
++++++++
She be cool dat babe
She be
•
Seen her sit da ma
Real nice
••
She be honest / clean a heart
Lovin da itsy bits / da kids
Yeah
She be good
•••
Kinda proud to be wit her
Ya know ?
She make me a good joe
Whatever that is !
Just wanta get ta be a man , see ?
Ya know
Ta know what it's like ?
A real man
•
Yeah
She a babe show a man
Ta be a man !
•
She a babe do love
Cause I care
Bout what she does
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC
Shoo! Shoo!
Cried the old lady in the boot,
as she chased the children
from her sole.
While this humorous situation ensues,
Humpty-Dumpty watches from his perch
a-top the King’s great wall,
entirely unaware of his seemingly pre-destined fall.
It’s a shame that we never look far enough forward,
to understand why we are breaking our backs;
well, if you don’t factor in the children who might be stepping on the cracks.
-
In another land of far away,
the clouds rolled in and threatened the village with rain.
The itsy, bitsy spider was out of luck,
for his swimming lessons weren’t until the following week.
I guess Mother Nature just couldn’t control her urge to purge
the dying earth with her liquid scourge.
-
Well I know that I’m not a Grimm sibling,
and Mother Goose isn’t on my menu,
but looking back on these childish yarns,
it’s tempting to say that fairy tales
aren’t really all that tall.
Maybe what our society needs,
is a reflection on the stories we used to believe.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC