"kissers" poems
big sweaters, ghibli, acrylic paint, cafes, knit blankets and unplanned afternoon naps on the couch, gardens, bananas, vanilla almond milk, soft yarn to crochet into ****** scarves, candles after midnight, the big trees with bulky roots, patio furniture, pianos in random buildings, the internet, manatees, the boundless colours of nail polish, peanut butter & honey, rubber boots, pens that write well, fresh new notebooks, skylights, american netflix, mothers that understand, tête à têtes, one glass of sweet white wine, awkward eye contact that turns into comfortable kissing, airplanes, fresh air, baseball caps, the female collective, the really good dark chocolate, flowers, pumpkin spice lattes and ***** chai lattes, candid laughter, yoga, oceans, high waisted shorts, striped t-shirts, docile cats, playful pups, french presses, integrity, sunscreen, meerkats, penguins, chameleons, autumn leaves, fall fashion, ruby woo mac lipstick, osho, dynamic meditation, compassion, siblings, scrambled eggs, smart phones, garageband, metronomes, hot glue guns, quinoa, ferry boats, soft hands, bicycles, real people, fat snowflakes in ample, graceful ********** backpacks that don't hurt your shoulders, hair conditioner, multi-vitamins, soft sand under bare feet, people that own up to lies, clarity, samsara, satori, samasati, visions, echinacea, lavender oil and frankincense, ambrosia apples and ripe avocados, authenticity, Morgan Freeman's voice, good kissers, ******* iced tea on a hot day, curtains, the smell of beeswax, art galleries, hand massages and foot massages, reiki, plums, mild thunderstorms, soccer ***** good surprises, when birds don't **** on your head.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
She swept down from the heavens
To find me
Then eyed me
Lashes long and eyes longing
She kissed like a Goddess
If Goddesses have
Long purple tongues
And swept me off of my feet
I almost fell for her then
But I could tell
It wasn't her
First time
And she had
Other men
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
There is a boy in the library, ignoring the crazy lady talking through the window.
I feel like telling him she is nice. And probably not half as crazy as the librarians in this town. She has 2 children. They live in Greece. And when she cries, her dogs hide under the deck.
But he probably doesn't speak English.
Hardly any of these people sitting on their backpacks at the library do. And even if he did, he wouldn't listen.
He is reading. Its a good book. I know its a good book. I've read it. Now I feeling like telling him to leave.
He should not read it here, underneath the colour wallpaper. He needs to find a corner of a beach, so he doesn't have to cry in public. And he has to cry, because if he doesn't, I know the crying will happen inside. And his eyes will turn a shade darker with the smoke of their deaths, and his muscles will strain to rip from his ridiculously alive tendons. His eyes are already black, and I do not think he can afford to find more darkness.
Not that I would know.
He might pick cherries for a living and flirt with a trailer park attendant called Fiona is his spare time.
But I have a smell for the scared and enclosed people here. I can see the kracken hunters and the faerie kissers. They show themselves to me accidentally and I turn watch them destroy their dreams.
People ask me why I am cold all the time. They do not understand, because the boy at the library closed the book before he could cry and I knew he would be destroyed anyway
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
My beloved angel
One with
Radiant hazel eyes
Chatoyant like clusters
Of stars
On a moonless night
My beloved angel
One with
A warm sultry smile
As to tempt wary kissers
Commit mischief
My beloved angel
One with
A pristine voice
So fresh
As to wake the dead
From their desolate
Silent graves
My beloved angel
One with a vivacious voice
So euphonious
As to elicit
The descent of angels
Down unto earth
My beloved angel
One with
A melodious voice
So harmonious
As to leave one
In a daze
Just mesmerized
Whilst stars scintillate
Athwart velvet skies
My beloved angel
One with
A dimpled cheek
Giving way for onlookers
As to be hypnotized
Whilst stars scintillate
Athwart velvet skies
My beloved angel
One with
Bona fide pulchritude
Which brings about
Myriads of creatures
From across all environs
Surrounding her
Gravitate towards her
As to crave
Such a ravishing queen
My beloved angel
One whose
Exuberant personality
Had me thrilled to bits
Vanished like whispers
In the wind
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
sat in your driver's passenger seat
your dad's porsche
I thought it was cool
a little drunk after a night in Royal Oak
we're on the freeway now
little lights from this mini Tokyo
illuminate and flirt with the car interior
they flash on your face
some Rihanna song on the ipod radio
cars and cars and cars drive by
I look at your face. I look down at my shoes on the floormat
Maybe we'll get stuck in traffic
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
Crooked nose,
**** pose.
I want to strip you past your pantyhose,
and prove
how much I love you.
It's extreme:
this feeling you're giving me
like someone's on my team
and I'm on my knees -
begging you not to leave;
screaming, gleaming,
shining, whining,
we're playing this sing song game,
winning,
weaving your words to my innards.
Dancing,
spin her.
glorious spirals and swirls,
you look at the girl
like she's beautiful,
even when your eyes are on her evil.
I am the church,
will you be my steeple?
We can be the pretty people,
better even,
antichrists.
Will you be my wife?
No.
That's little ****
we're bigger even.
Past the dimension of tension;
free to learn the lessons
of each others' teachers.
We can be world leaders
or animal breeders,
silly kissers,
fishermen.
I'm just wishin' you're with me,
every moment is waiting for you
to kiss me.
Even when it's happening,
I'm missing you
'cause I want to live inside your chest cave.
Closer.
Closer.
I'll gladly be your slave.
Slay me.
Take me away.
I want to be the game you play.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
I never understood why people call others a "goodie goodie" when they are helping someone out.
I thought people preached, and wished for there to be more "good people" out there in this world.
News flash.
There are "good people" in this world.
They just get teased, mocked and even picked on by jealous people for their actions.
They are seen as *** kissers" , only doing "something good" to one up someone else.
Seen as self-centered people who only do what they think is best for them.
So the good deeds, the selfless acts, fade away.
Yet they are still called upon, only a few answer.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Once I loved my country
Was filled up with pride
That was before my country
Suddenly fell over and died.
It didn’t die spontaneously,
My country was assassinated.
Murdered by people who
Lied, cheated and hated.
The accomplices were folks
Who stayed home and blamed
And insisted that both parties
Were essentially the same.
Those people refused to verify
What was fact from propaganda.
Now half the citizens are facing
A destructive national agenda.
There were thousands of jokes
About the unqualified guy who won.
Some were funny, made us laugh,
But what happened was not fun.
The person who was trained lost.
Now we have a bigot and a racist
Who is eyeing the Constution
And badly wants to replace it.
The people on both sides now
Have no idea what is coming.
They thought they elected a good guy
But he’s a rich kid who was slumming.
They thought he would help to bring
A national hoped-for change.
They will be shocked to death
To discover that man is so strange.
For him it’s about the ass-kissers
He keeps as his personal posse.
Be prepared, this next four years
Will be anything but glossy.
We will witness blood and death
And a crash of our economy
Because Trump and his cohorts
Believe in nothing but autonomy.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 4:50 AM UTC
i try very hard not to fall in love with certain boys
boys that think i am a ball of yarn they can string along
care free
i get snarled
too easily
might be
the ginger in me
i especially avoid all boys with guitars
my heart is a six string
and they've got the pick
i don't like that
never fall for trumpet players, either
the myth about them being good kissers is false
i like rough and ready boys
with dirt under their fingernails
and autumn breezes in their hair
they catch up those green fields
in their eyes
look at me with them
and i
can't resist
that one
for some ******* reason
everyone says
"get a boyfriend, red"
but there aren't any boys in this small town
that are like that
and dad says
don't fall in love with southern boys
...sorry dad, these northern boys won't do
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
and what of the magicians
where do we fit into the picture
indeed we are
the designated chancellors of
the king and queen success
we serve
the Royal Highness
if it pleases them
we give them priceless
advise and supervision
to our majesty's grace
career and evolution
if it pleases
the king and queen
thus
we have
earned the exclusive right
to whisper in their ears
good advice
and
it is our firm
and solid duty
while
some people
suggest our primary role
differently
and
call us
donkey kissers
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
It was a Spanish night,
outside of his tiny cobbed webbed wooden window,
a war announced itself,
a war without Rifles,
Men,
or Tanks and trucks and grenades and black leather boots,
but a war of something
something more deadly,
something terribly cold,cruel,and
beautiful,
in the spanish night,
men loved women,
men loved men,
women loved men,
women loved women,
Lamps exploding with glorious saintly lights,
illuminating the streets like a ball room for the aristocrats,
everything glistened outside,
and he sat beside his old window,
wearing a ***** old white t-shirt,
lighting a cigarette,
he felt as if he was God,
high above,
looking over everyone,
couples holding hands,
girls in sun dresses,
red shoes,
blue shoes,
green shoes,
yellow eyes,
blue eyes,
red fingernails,
purple fingernails,
brown hair,
black hair,
yellow hair,
white teeth,
bright yellow shirts and beautiful brown skin,
the night was good tonight,
his tiny lamp shimmered on his hairy face,
smiling,
his cigarette smiling with him,
He looked over this,
wild landscape of lovers,
music playing,
women laughing,
kissing,
Being God would be terribly cruel,
he would say to himself,
lighting another cigarette,
this is his lover,
his music,
his,
girl in a bright yellow dress,
with her hair down,
and her eyes are large and brown,
her smile the wingspan of a crow,
Looking out over his Heaven
his window,
a tiny spider crawls across the glass,
stopping,
perhaps looking over the dancers,
the lovers,
the kissers,
the youth,
the night people,
He stared at the spider,
“i know that feeling spider”
he said
“looking over all these dresses,and these dancing feet”
he would say
“it's a curse”
“being godn' all”
and the spider would crawl away,
dissappearing into nothing,
maybe underneath the carpet,
where Dogs or mice have chewed tiny holes,
the clock on the dresser hit 1AM,
and the dancers,
the long haired women,
the men,
the dresses and red shoes and lipstick lips and eyes,
were beginning to leave,
Standing up he walks to his closet,
pulling out a jacket,
pulling out a pair of brown pants,
slipping on socks,
then his leather shoes,
his glasses,
walking down the stairs from his apartment,
he had forgotten his cigarettes,
down the hallway of his apartment,
walking back to his room,
a man and women laughed,
her teeth were white,
and she glowed like the flick of a lighter at night,
when the electric bill hasn't been paid,
he unlocks his door,
and grabbing his pack of cigarettes,
by his Heaven window,
he notices the spider on the window,
no body is out side dancing,
and the Street lights,
seem more peaceful,
and welcoming,
And he walks out into the street,
smelling to-do-soon rain,
his footsteps,
loud,
clacking on the pavement,
like a horses hooves,
and he lights a cigarette,
finally alone with the night,
no longer God.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
The predictability of certain females
**** blossoms, ins and outs.
State social climbing potential woman -
lying obnoxious males - the types of women
they go ******* over
Certain people in the helping professions
who seem prone to be cliche uttering
Hardhats even though they might have
gotten their degrees from a liberal university
or whatever.
Sensing which people especially females
if you're a guy who might be interested
in you before you have had your first big talk
to, in most cases, and break the ice
since once is usually interested in them back.
Sensing who back scratched (you "do" me, I'll "do" you)
A-kissers, apple polishers and so on are if you're at all
military, or come from a military family
where you're really exposed to that member of the military.
Suspecting sudden outbursts of grief
coming on from a relative who doesn't appreciate
anything tragic whatsoever
but I'm saying maybe is
sensing the angry last man syndrome in
certain males
Knowing when to say "Well, don't get all hostile,"
with your arms outstretched
when somebody is about to scold you about something
starts within you.
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
when greener sits atop me earth
astride the human rind practically
eatage thrusted blueward hair
i'll innumerably chant life from
desiccated lips i'll sing life and
i'll say a whole ocean of upon
grass will lovers make dew
which (like me shall) make again
a body of beating and bragging
under stars and over me shall
make the feet of those miraculous
youth drunk kissers and i won't
be dead i'll be in every mouth
parted love hew imbued each other
like i did with you one summer ago
in sweetest juice of night honeying
every limb in suppler moonest light
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 5:23 AM UTC
****** rednecks and tabloid editors,
Choosing a big-mouthed wussy,
Voted into office a ****** predator who
Brags he grabs women by the *****
He goes on and on about himself
Blows that he is highly educated
He only tells lies, braggadocio, or
Unpresidential rot that is R-rated.
He boasted he could shoot
Someone dead in the street
Even that ugly deed would
Not cause his defeat.
It turned out to be
Unfortunately true!
That’s the kind of thing
Ignoramuses will do:
They vote some dingaling
No matter how disgusting
And decide this grifter
Is definitely worth trusting.
He's just bright enough to see
That suckers love a good show
So he’ll dance and sing to them
For three and a half years or so.
He said he keeps the best
People to back up his boasts,
And when he chooses one
His accomplices all toast.
It won’t be very long until
As his TV show has inspired,
He’ll open that ugly mouth
And snarl out “You’re fired!”
He knows he can keep on
In his lucrative term of office
If he just keeps the rich happy, and
Fools who can’t see he’s bogus.
He’s busily going about
Taking the rights of the poor
And wadding all of them up
Then kicking them out the door.
The only people he wants to succeed
Are him and those ass-kissers
Who hang with him out of greed.
He's just bright enough to see
That suckers love a good show
So he’ll dance and sing to them
For three and a half years or so.
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
Frienemies with benefits
I suppose that's what we are,
It's really not that bizarre.
Kissers, and snugglers and touchers,
not lovers.
We might only go so far.
But if one or no soul asks me,
I am grateful for you,
And I.
How we're something new.
We're
Sometimes just two in a room.
Sometimes something good ensues.
I'm grateful.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
It is she who is hidden within
And speaks through eyes of ocean water
For the plump, pink kissers sealed so thin
Sworn to keep all the painful matter
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC
I dig when you like my poems
And I’m really glad you know them
But you are being too critical
If you demand I not be political.
I’m not the most passive poet
You have ever heard or seen.
I am rather an outspoken
Liberal-minded poetry machine.
I’m not patient with ass-kissers
Or those who applaud crooks,
And flashy overspending creeps
Who got rich cooking the books.
I’m not impressed with how well
They behave at flashy photo-ops.
If they’re criminals, I really think
Someone should call the cops.
Nixon and Reagan, taught us
Being famous doesn’t get it.
If that’s all they have going on
Then, no thanks. Just forget it.
I don’t want to give them keys
To a worldwide nuclear disaster.
Kicking their ***** off the throne
Should be instantly if not faster.
So, if you came here to read
Of flowers, June, moon and spoon,
You’re bound to be disappointed
And it will happen very soon.
As I am in love with words
Not just the sound they make.
I try to move souls and hearts
And shake some people awake.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
******** and Ass-folk! Assemble! Attend!
Ascend! Ass-ly ones! Angelic assets of ***
Assimilate *** army! Advance on Almighty *** -
Affectionate ass-kisses of admirative adoration!”
An adorable assortment of *** assembled, as announcer assailed.
And all ***** attended attentively.
“Accept Almighty ***
“Always Almighty ***
“Ass-kiss Almighty ***
All ***** answered autonomously.
Against the accretion of *** accrued, announcer again accosted:
“Alacritous ***** a-frolic in Ass-land. Always,
aspirating ass-air of Almighty *** Absorbing the abstraction of Absolute-Ass, in attainment of Alpha-Ass.”
“Accept Ass-lore!
1. All ***** are alike!
2. Accept not alternative *****
3. Assassinate not another ***
4. Avoid ass-ly avarice
5. Avoid ass-ly adulteration
6. Always is Almighty ***
7. Almighty *** is Always
8. Abuse not another ***
9. Abstain Anti-Ass associations
10. Ass-kiss Almighty ***
Abruptly, an anonymous *** amid the audience ambushed the address:
“Absent ass-kissers All!”
“Accepting this annoying ass-wind!”
All ***** abated in agitation…
Anon, the Ass-land ambassador, affected by **** anguish, assaulted:
“Un-Assly Alien! Ally of the Anti-Ass!”
“Alas, an *** is an *** Apprehend the apostate!”
All ***** attacked, amok, and aggressively abolished and annihilated the assailant!
Afterwards, ***** applauded and acclaimed:
“Almighty *** Ass-Lord of Ass-land!
Always art in *** Assist an ***
in attainment of assly-ness.
To acquire allusionment in ***
To attain Ass-ly Ascension,
As assuredly as *** is ***
Ashes to ashes, and *** to ***
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 8:11 AM UTC
Kiss my.
Oh, not that part.
But my lips.
And make me feel every feeling within it.
You know how.
You have the skills.
And have done it for years.
Rookies needs practice.
While veterans needs nothing.
No slob.
No spit.
Those kissers are complete idiots in need of an instructor
Cause a simple kiss should be an expression of a person love.
It's different than a friendship smooch.
And the approach of the ways to do it must be known.
Before you proceed because of the responds.
Or you might face some reprisal and harm.
Don't kiss my hand.
Don't kiss my neck.
Cause things might get started.
But that can happen too.
If you just kiss my lips.
And put that special feeling within it.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
Show me your gods
All fur, purr and bark
Feather, skin, scale.
Those demi beings
that mark your heart
and steal your soul.
Those scraps of love
That make hard days whole
mornings bearable and nights
A little less lonely, predictable
or indeed a little less cold
The bed hoggers, extra joggers
The shoe chewers, the foremen
the cuties, the mute beggers
Soulful singers, paper bringers
Howlers, growlers,meowers
Chirpy talkers, hissers,
water blissers,
Princes waiting to be kissed
sloppy drooly kissers,
the sandpaper lickers
The back leg kickers
those who make biscuits
those who sleep,
like loaves of bread
Tail waggers, live in baggers
Perch dancers, walkies prancers
**** machines, Catnip dreamers
Redlight baskers
Show me your gods..
be they small, large, short, tall
Slim, plump, grim lumps
Portly, courtly, royalty
or hot fluffly messes
Bring them out to parade
with these god's
a home is made
and in these days dark and dreary
We need these gods
for when we become weary
Of the world we've made
We need
somewhere to lay our hearts
some thing that has a unlimited
grab bag of fresh starts.
These gods
everyday the give you a bit of
extra heart extra hope
A reason to hang on
to laugh to cry, to talk to sigh
So show to me;
your gods
and say a prayer
and thank the lord
he made them with care.
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 4:09 AM UTC
Tanned days rest futile and barren, effortless.
Wan old woman on a mahogany chair. Balding.
Folded torn date palms amidst desserts thirsting.
Blue-black nights spent watching lovers, kissers
eat lips, tongues. At soft tips of sanded hill castles.
I dream of full, silky fleeting rivers. Oh Krishna.
You are the giver, taker, war, peace and refugee.
Plane songs, sorrows and all the remaining dreams.
I’m empty, yet a ripened bunch, ready to submit.
Like a dog at your altar. Running knives on my back.
I cannot grow, the blue is too far a lover. Or wither, the
ground too close a migrant. Just a blessing cut down for
those curses fettered in pages, drawn beneath gypsy tongues.
Crop me off this pilgrimage, myself running out of pilgrim
Age.
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 7:24 PM UTC