"jollies" poems
to get back in the water....
Have you noticed how
Freaking WEIRD
the media has become?
I can SMELL THE FISH.
Dah dum. Dah dum...
Dah dum Dah dum Dah dum
Lately I saw the cover of
Bazaar Magazine.
A model in a **** gold lame'
Bathing suit... sexily draped
Inside the maw of Jaws.
What Is the nose of Jaws
Coming vertically out of the
Water reminiscent of?
A PYRAMID perhaps?
The pyramid is a symbol.
Of Freemasons and
THE ILLUMINATI.
I always thought a friend of mine
A bit touched. He told me that
The 1% are all in collusion.
That the Illuminati used SYMBOLS
and scenes on the TV and movies
(Pictures on the wall in the
background, etc) as subliminal
Messages for mind control. And
to indicate subtly what is going on
Behind the scenes. So they can get
Their jollies by "telling us", without
Really doing so, how we are headed
For destruction. And how it will
Take place. So they can
LAUGH AT US!
I don't know. I used to think
The guy a bit eccentric...
NOW I AM NOT SO SURE...
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
Hello Facebook my old friend.
I'm reading posts on you again.
Up at 2:30 in the morning
Checking likes and shares and replying.
Read alerts beneath the ringing bell.
What the hell, am I doing on Facebook?
As through the posts I quickly scroll.
Seeing kittens, dogs and trolls.
Trying not to click on the ad spam.
Found a recipe for a baked ham.
And a private message from a long lost friend.
But I know not when.
I added this person, on Facebook.
10,000 clicks and maybe more.
My index finger's mighty sore.
All the smileys, likes and emojis.
Likes on my posts giving me jollies.
Requests from people that I do not even know.
My friends list grows.
To thousands of people, on Facebook.
"Will this nightmare ever end?"
I ask as I add a friend.
But all the games and all the puzzles.
Popping balloons and bursting bubbles.
I have got to try to get a better score.
It's such a chore.
Playing the games, on Facebook.
Suddenly one day I learned.
Zuckerberg on me had turned.
Selling all my saved information.
To companies in all lands and nations.
Making a profit off me like I was his ***
I did not know.
Violated, by Facebook
But I did not stay mad long.
Even though it was so wrong.
I have to see how many likes I had.
I want to know this stuff awfully bad.
And now the data selling's out of mind.
And thus I find.
Myself again, on Facebook.
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 5:23 AM UTC
One I trust
Apart from the rest
Held in esteem
Never uncomfortable
There is a type
I should have recognized
Acting like the elite
Oddly separated
Starts with help
Coming to you
As you expect
You knew I would
Quiet, that's me
Shy
Dependent on praise
Lifts up my day
Take it slow
Tickles your brain
Knowing to fast
Will show your hand
Praises daily
Addicting to me
Depending more
Using less of me
Influence is drastic
Friends try to intervene
Blow them off
Keep listening
Day after day
Time after time
I fall
You catch
Pace quicknes
Growing need
The opening arrives
Move in, breath held
Hair rises on nape of neck
Ignore it you croon
Immersed in your world now
Friends alienated
Classes missed
None notice
Weeks gone
Mail piles up
Semester ends
No sign I exist
Missing person
Name on a poster
Tears fall down cheeks
Eyes dull
Just what thrills you
Conquests, dolls
Poster fades
Rips and disappears
Trapped even now
So gullible
Tiring of the look
I cringe
Wondering at the days
Darkness blissful
Fresh posters hung
Face full of life
Whispers abundant
Body found, remember her
If only they had reported
Even now they are the key
He is a predator
The worst kind
My killer was my mentor
Friend to the School
The rich task master
Jollies in blood
A new poster
Hangs beside mine
Another is missing
Soon another body they will find
Teach your young early
Keep them vigilant
Make them depend on themselves
This kills his type
Written by Niyah Love
All rights reserved
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Let's be Frank,
Bruce, or Wally,
You're in the loo,
A modern lad,
You want your jollies,
In one hand you scroll you're iPad,
In the other you're texting,
"? what I - M doing?!"
Dec 24, 2010
Dec 24, 2010 at 8:27 PM UTC
Beauty Is As Beauty Does
A Story by Eclipsing Moon-blood red
If enough people are interested I will continue with this series as a Book with chapters this one being renamed ...Beauty Is As Beauty Does-Prologue .
Beauty Is As Beauty Does
A Story by Eclipsing Moon-blood red
If enough people are interested I will continue with this series as a Book with chapters, this one being renamed ...Beauty Is as Beauty Does-Prologue.
In the dark recesses of the void, we call our universe a cloud was forming, one devoid of morals or intent.
The molecules came together under the thought processes of a malignantly minded old sorcerer, blended with his hope of a lasting endowment of centuries of learning and spell castings.
He was searching for a one to carry on his knowledge and spells of potion and this cloud could carry out the espying in secret as he wished...under cover of dark and thought...unless a spirit was descerned by another caster of woven potions.
Today in time was measured more by centuries and decades as the process took... its form...questing for the entity as this universe and others had been targeted for his type of Magic...sorcerers specialized in their trade and like all good practioners he had his fireworks shows with energy beams and potion majic mixed to control and manipulate the certain being he was working with...for power was the name of his gambit...the access and addition of as well as controlling in the sphere of a society...let’s just say he got his jollies from using others well earned energy..What they worked for...he stole and reveled in the process.
It just so happened that today...his cloud was in the vicinity of a planet known to the Magical world as Earth...Terra...this being inhabitied by beings in many dimensions and frequensies...it seemed to home in on a child...being birthed as a logical consideration ..So that; further study was merited
.Marking this beings location in the foothills of a hidden mountain range ...in the Tibetan range and former birthplace of a religious teacher known as Lord Buddha...Siddhartha...and a nice long history in the telling of the Monks who followed him...this time a twist a counter turn of the incarnation was a Female child ..Looking to be imbued with the same set of majical powers...and the beginning of another time and space of reign as the first...excellent time to lay claim to the mind and teachings of this ...ONE..Of Beauty.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 12:50 PM UTC
The intelligent observer says;
'Isn't it curious how their shrill centers round this
phantom love affair'
You mean the 'Pick on a **** psychos, them paid
hire a hooligan mob uk racists criminals
Yes, I dare say, they write chapter and verse about
some one you never even kissed, some one who is
just another pawn, a poor victim of circumstance.
caught in a web unknown to her.
Yeah, I do feel sorry for the poor thing
The sad thing though with these backwards racists
and their devotees....hahaha...more their victims perhaps
is how hate governs minds and the psychology behind it
all.
It all stems from ***** Envy and fear, yes, its really as
basic and simply as that. They hate you and do all these
imbecilic nonsense because they really feel threatened by you.
This love angle skit they play is Freudian. Your big manhood
emasculate them, your standing challenges them and you
reflect that, which they can never be.
Do you know their greatest fear has become seeing you use
that 'fearsome weapon' they know how effective it is and
how they don't compare. That's why they get their jollies
from manufacturing a situation and then opposing it.
Creating delusions to absolve their complexes.
Typical Narcissistic ****** behavior.
Why are you laughing, do you know how many unfortunate
black men have died because of this, ***** envy kills
Hahaha...I should get a tee-shirt with that slogan on
You're not taking this very serious, are you?
No, I don't take things beneath CONTEMPT seriously....
Let's feel sorry for them, why should I give head space to *******
May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 8:24 AM UTC
Soliloquies sharpened
And
Silhouetted by the tongue.
Viscous virtues,
Masterplans undone.
Confessions confided
Yet
Forgotten by the sun.
Knights and paupers
All may become.
Inebriated needs
And
Inception planted seeds
Grown like the wheat
That sways in the breeze.
Fermented folly,
Merry japes and jollies.
Shall bring us all
Down
Upon our knees.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
And such a one as you too have come
Such a one
••
Sweet as the taste of anything at all after all is said and done
And life itself is here and we see the reasons for our fear and overcome
••
The child with her razor blade realizes
Demons do invade any holy sanctuary left open
And they know
What they must know
To live
••
Sweet the silence voices
Sing of holy
Sing of real
Sing of us
••
She walks naked solitary
Fields where magic is the only answer
And my face is the only beauty
••
The only reason
••
Walks naked high school corridors laughing at the folly
••
The pumpin pimpin brutal ways the tryin to get their jollies
Before dyin
Without even tryin
To live
••
No reason to ask me to forgive
I am invincible
As you are
As always
~~~
~~~
>
~~~
~~~
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:35 PM UTC
Have asked i many an ambling *******
If haply they could joyfully an impotent
Fella marry, a horse whose divine dower
Cannot shower their libido high and potent.
No mare hath yet to this consented;
All desires to have jollies unprevented.
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 4:03 AM UTC
The very day he passed on, he had had five
Of his clients discharged, and each did arrive
On cloud nine safely. It's the sixth sweet sheila
That he was rocketing, with the help of ******
When suddenly his heart failed him and
Stopped breathing at the time when his right hand
Was cupping up her beauteous bust and the other
Fondling her *** svelte, whilst his big brother
Had docked with hers on a titillating, ****** flight.
So perished he in the grips of her thighs tight.
I will laden thee nay with the autopsy report
Of how he did die while swinging back and forth
In his bed, trying to make gamut of his jollies,
Since it cannot remedy at all his follies.
And though he did gain through his lucrative-sin
Affairs fortune, which doth spice up life, the thing
That many do after pursue with fame; yet it's be-
Come, by his departure at 32 to yonderland, vanity.
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 3:39 AM UTC
*******
knocking down
some one else
just for jollies
possibly to work out
internal frustrations
i'd say karma
or the people
will get you back
for this behavior
but it never stopped you before
why should it now.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I am swiss cheese I am somebody who is trying to relocate their shoulders, thrown about in a misty sin of congratulations
I am a sipless vulture attempting to be pure but coming out vinegar
juniper berries and sickly **** of packaged rawhide
inescapable landslide
unexcused, for what its worth
an imaginging roller coaster disaster, so far from my fathers, mad from too much beer and wine
hankered down by mood stabilizing pills
jipless, jockeyed, jiving to bizzare melodies
a sipter esphicator, ready to lunge into the excesses of butter beer
singing jollies with dumbeldore and other queers
misplelled, misplaced, outcast, on the bench with other pupils
and the carnivore sinks its teeth into its kills
shanking and shaking, singing in the bathtub with katy perry
muse the blues with cherub rock, loathing dylan, asking for more cohen
juxtaposed on top of everest and demanding a double feature
dickless angels
turnabout, shout, the end is near, abstract, understand the notion, the fear
and scream helpless hopless empty bottles of beer
nectar and graham the hector, a mellon bunnie with rabbid ears
run for your life! the fires of eternal flowers and bounds of life
seem sophisticated at the time
Turnabout, the beats are out
and the real madness, the real madness, is here
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
So sick and tired
Of all these dudes thinking I'm just meant to be used...and persuaded
I'm a lady and I have a soul
Stop this nonsense I'm no fool
Senseless freaks
Thinking I am that easy-to-use and abuse. . **** that ****
I'm a beautiful woman with a choice to choose
Stop at ******** I'm not there to get your jollies off
I'm not your robot queen
You so often want me to be..
I'm better then those stereotypes
Better then that
I'm freshly changed
A new and improved
Personality so cool
A respect for myself
That you can't understand
I'm not that needle ******
I use to show off as
I'm the caterpillar now morphed into
A butterfly
My bright and colorful patterns
For all the world to see..
This is the chance for myself to create a brand-new me..
So **** off all of you weirdos and creeps I'm not so ***** on the street
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
Plagiarize if you like
Hell, tell them these are your writes
Copy and paste them from my page
I've written of love and I've written of rage
Take your choice it all conveys...
And...
If and when you claim my words
Perhaps you'll start a trending curve
My typos need no disclaimers
Likes and comments from complete strangers
Oh yes!
The same way Traveler Tim gets his jollies
You too will be living the life of Riley!
Jun 17, 2021
Jun 17, 2021 at 7:40 AM UTC
My portrait will not be painted.
It will be d r a w n on textured
Paper with pointed charcoal
Such as the royal gallery’s
Commissioned best are done.
I will pose in the corner of a
Small room surrounded by splotches
Of torn cardboard and still moist
Papier-mâché under my footstool,
The burlap pants causing me to sweat.
It’s hard to tell if aesthetics
Are as important as the glory
Of the gray poster board surface
On which my upper body will be
Displayed in intimate splendor.
When first I agreed to this stance,
He said it was an abstract piece,
The geometric patterns of my body
Reduced and distilled to shadows,
Light and feathery and seemly.
As I was unpretentious, if not a
Tad modest, I was not prepared for
Fame via framed exhibitions of me
In the buff, even though my upper
Reaches were of decent eye-appeal.
I wondered if my blushing cheeks
Would transfer well in black and
Grey, or rather would my figure
Take on a halo of light, in jagged
Doses down to the treasure trail?
Who knows what he meant by one
And another reference to art for art’s
Sake, as if I were really a mannequin
Without a soul, subject to the jeers
And jollies of a maddening crowd.
I wondered what the docents would
Say when pointing at me with pride,
Perhaps “there is truth in this drawing;
Notice the hint of red in his face, a
Sign of the artist’s transcendence.”
Somehow I didn’t think this gig
Would make me famous, but as I stood
There, at attention, I hoped for the
Esteem of the crowds, especially the
Novice art students-in-training.
© Lewis Bosworth, 12/2016
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
I mean no disrespect, understand;
Larry Tate is a hell of a guy,
But if you can’t wrangle up a showgirl or ****** on short notice,
You have no business calling yourself an ad man.
Likewise, the Stephens kid gets results
(God only knows how he carries off
Some of the last-minute miracles he pulls out of his ***
But you gotta keep him away from the money clients;
Too skittish, too much of a loose cannon.
No, every agency needs a core principle,
A philosophy to anchor itself on;
You remember the first big campaign we did?
You call that a suit? Mine’s an Irving Freibush.
That was my baby, and let me tell you,
I didn’t need a focus group
Or some fifty-thousand dollar demographic study
To figure out if the ******* desk
The model was leaning against should be oak or cherry.
I knew it would work,
Because I knew what every ad man
(And preacher and politician, for that matter)
Worth a **** knows as well as he knows his own name;
That everyone, deep inside, feels they are not quite right,
That they’re a little slow, a little shabby,
A little less than their fellow man.
We just (quietly, mind you) reinforce that notion a bit,
And present them a shinier, newer band-aid.
Anyway, the ads worked like gangbusters,
And it always gave me the jollies that both Hef and Billy Graham
Each had a closet full of those suits.
Look, what we do isn’t rocket science or parlor tricks,
But a bunch of big black figures
At the bottom line of the ledger book?
Now that, boys and girls, is ******* magic.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
(
(
(
(
\/
/\
/ \
################
She told me ...
••
.........And the wars that are here and the wars to come /
•
•
•
I know you are busy playing games with your
******* and penises
But could we have your attention for a moment please ?
////
While your blood drips idiotically to the bathroom floor
////
////
////
Well
It's a very LONG STORY
And I know you are getting your jollies thinking of
Strangling each other
( I can relate to that !
I know EXACTLY how you feel !)
SERIAL KILLERS / SERIAL LOVERS
All the same now
•
But
( anyhow )
•
•
•
Sorry to take up your time
I guess if you want to die it is your right to die
///
( that doesn't seem Right )
But it's what's comin down
•
As the wisdom drifts across the skies
And fades and fades
Soon is gone
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
I might be sincerely sick of this DeliciousLife when hovers like clouds golden Fingers pray-like lovers barely breath-kissing. Allow hungry hands eye-thirsty
To touch
please: Your countrysided Curves
Dew meadow puddle eyes
Bountiful ***** bouquet
On this moistly most wondrous DAZE
Two dove(er)s
Two lovers
Embraced in do-or-die
And time eats itself into
A fat belly of jollies.
:: 06-03-18 ::
EPRobles © 2018
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
(systematic racism)
I come from a place
Where the language was harsh
Surely the thought police
Could simply tear me apart
I had a girlfriend for over 10 years
Every once in awhile
I’d call her by my ex-wife's name.. Ouch!
It not my fault
It was systemically ingrained!
She has always known my true heart
She's always laughed at my follies
Oh how the thought police
Must get their jollies’
We are the artist of our own dream
Painting over a well used canvas!
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:32 AM UTC