"kneck" poems
Whisper to me of soft sins
and hard moans
I want to know
who you are in the dark
When you are naked and alone
I want to feel the stain
of your wet kisses
up and down my kneck
Push me onto my back
and carve your name
into my chest
Sink your teeth
into the corner
of the inside of my thigh
There is no pain
when I have the pleasure
of being in the reflection
of the carmel desire in your eyes
Pull me under the secret universe
you hide in the mad love
within the pulse
and rhythm of your stars
Drown my breath in the colors
and pallet of the beauty
of your blood red lips of lust
Leave the scent
and taste of your flower
To haunt the eternal hunger
you have seared
into the marrow of my bones
It is only by the warmth
of your breath
that I can enjoy death
and rise and die again
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 7:00 AM UTC
me and cuz are gettin stove-piped
by three ripe, early-eyed airborne minds
me and cuz are flappin just right.
sharp turn on that slippy turnpike.
I spy twisted steel, cuz musta lied-
bottle kneck, open backpack, plastic bag.
guess cuz was 'fraid of a gun fight,
wid a seatbelt stained red on both sides.
me and cuz got us stove-piped.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 8:02 PM UTC
She was an old jazz song played on a broken piano string tied to the moon and the scars of his heart
He was the twisted and warped kneck of the ghost of a violin haunting the halls of her soul
Their love was lost long ago in a forest forgotten by time and swallowed by eternity
They both wandered the world never knowing the others name but finding each other every night at the brief moment between sleep and dreams
and they would both hear each others music as it was sewn note for note into the fabric of true love
and they would wake miles and mountains apart and years away and yet still feel the nights song flowing within the pulse of their blood
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
Is this girl crazy
Why does she put on lipstick
and her wedding gown.
Just to go to town.
She cuts her wedding gown
just below her hip's.
Is she crazy or does she know
what hot is.
She wear's leopard skin boots
Fish net stockings
With blackened eye's
She's fire's delight
She wear's a push up bra
With rings on every fingers
Wearing a long rosary around her kneck
Her wedding dress is split in the middle
With a small gold chain wrapped around her waist.
Attached to her belly button ring
She has a stud in her tongue a stud in her eye.
A tattoo of a tear drop, tatted by her eye
She turns every eye in the street
Who's crazy for who now
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
A small ladybug
flew on my
kneck,
I felt her
creeping on my
flesh,
she was a
sign of good
luck.
I wish I'd
just set her
free,
but instead I
left her to
die.
Why do I
hurt things I
love?
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
Crippled and confused I am shriveled and derilect. Won't you be my Patti, won't you be my Smith. Come on little darling lets make a split, todays moonrise is just another reason to abandon ship.
At the bottom of the ocean time does slip, with water in my lungs I couldn't spit. Breathing in ounces of dissapointment and choking on death, suffocating amongst the urchins was easy, spending our time watching the sand blow by. Now todays come again and it aint any longer, poison slides down and tides me over, pausing to wonder, was there something I had to do here before I drown? or was I just meant to sit here and listen to the sound. Nevermind and never forget, it seems to be the reason why we sweat, I can feel the hot sun sitting upon my kneck, holding me down as it sets.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
I can't even begin to know where to start about life.
The depth of beauty and intricacy is this great big incredible- an infinite, infinite, infinite incredible. Sitting alone at home on my computer, trying to strike inspiration from one place or another, I always end up with a coffee in one hand contemplating how beautiful the wine glass to the left of my kneecap looks in the hue of light beaming in from the rainy grey bright- or I gaze outside and contemplate my warm protection from the cold and wet outside, wondering what would truly be better- this warmth? or the thrill of living and forced recognition of every step given by the airy forecast of the clouds wisping from my breath, breaching me from the shoe of my pants and the kneck of my shirt to caress the bare-skin of my spine and the calfs of my bony ankles?
and it's as if I have to choose, but I laugh when I realize they're both great big incredibles in themselves- the fluff of a book in my hand and a hot drink at my side as the floating water decides to come back to Earth- the melancholy of still-in-my-pajamas-and-this-is-one-of-only-two-days-off; the poetry of love and the poetry of loss and the poetry of all I desire to do but hold back- all of this brings me a comforting sadness. Life, life, life, life, life... thank you for loving me.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:25 AM UTC
You make me want to kick you in the teeth
It may hurt me back but not my feelings.
The urge to snap your kneck
makes me shiver filled with rage.
I hate that I want you
but I know that I don't need you!
After trying everything,
it so bothers me
that you're still breathing.
The memories of you
Makes me want to puke!
Why the **** did we ever come across?
Wait, hold on to that thought
Knife is talking to me,
reminds me to slit your ******* throat!
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 3:45 AM UTC
He tears about with happy shouts
a truck held in his hand
his shoes kicked off, his hat on wrong
as he runs along the sand
He chases gulls with wild intent
of what I do not know
sea snails hear this cacophony
and retreat to their homes
I chase him through the breaking waves
and catch him with a giggle
this force of nature in my arms
with tendency to wriggle
his little arms around my kneck
on my nose he plants a kiss
I stay this way as waves crash in
in sweet paternal bliss.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 4:33 AM UTC
Don't let your dreams get to far - remember you can't get the gold if you don't know just where you are. Id trade a leg and arm just to get the golden touch, of her heart. I lost a peice of me when she left - she made me bleed and now i feel i need a surgery or a drug or some kind of thing to make me feel like i am next to she - the one that got away. Never will i forget your face. You put me in my place and now i'm stuck forgot how to give a **** about myself. They come first. The ones around. It hurts me way deep down when i see a face i love put on a frown. It's more than just a brown it's a burn. I almost like the way it hurts. Conditioned by repition put me in this disposition so i write this written. I put the decision of who i am in another person's hands. I've lost my promised land. Lost my human rights. I've given up the fight for my life. Can't sleep at night. Round and through - pull it tight - get it done right - the tricky bit is when you get up into it and you start question if the noose is worth the conditions - can't stop now - won't start slippin - stick to the plan - you cant comply to lifes demands - if you dangle there's no repremands - step on down and be a failure yet again - no i can't - i won't do it - head whent through it - **** i blew it - the rope i knew it - broke in two, it - snapped at the base - landed on my face - hit the ground - still choking out - grab my kneck n' pull it out - **** what now - lets over dose like an auschewitz kid just got some chow - take enough to **** a cow - woke up in the icu - full of tubes - right here next to you - the dissapointment shows right through - don't deny it don't even try to hide it you know i know when you're lyin.
Now hush baby brother, dont you cry
Everything's gonna be alright
Gotta toughen up my little buba, i told ya
I'll always be with ya in your mind
You'll hear alot of things but hold onto my good side
Dont forget you were my pride
It may feel a little painful, when the rain falls
But i promise the sun will always shine
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
forgot how to love
she said 'spank me, man'
i spanked her too hard
I tried to kiss her kneck like James Dean
she didn't feel it.
i made her bed while she was showering,
i made her coffee while she dressed,
i held her hand at the bustop and then walked home.
i found a note in my pocket
a drawing of a flower,
a drawing of lips kissing,
her handwriting
again I'm in high school learning how to love
this time my lover already knows
and so it is easy to remember.
her makeup stained my favorite shirt,
the one my dad bought at a brewery in Berkeley but to be fair, the blue one that says 'Truckee' was my favorite until this morning
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 10:07 PM UTC
My dreams pauesd for a midnight bite
And I found a dead body
Entangled in my arms
And a strange heart beat
Stuck in my throat
A fast bullet bleed from my soul
And the moon wasn't talking
And the stars weren't singing
And the smoking gun
Would only laugh
But refused to give the name
Of the hand that held
The trigger finger
I flashed my teeth
And bit this nightmare
By its kneck
And ****** out all its blood
And filth and venom
And chocked down the fear
Of knowing the face
Hiding in the dreams
Dancing in the death
And colors of those
Mad cruel eyes
Staring at me
From the bottom
Of the deep dark abyss
Of the frozen dream
And Iifeless body
Haunting the pulse
Of my arms
And I couldn't tell if
The smoke smelled
Of love or suicide
So all I could do
Was open a bottle of tears
And drown in a drop
And load the bullet
And **** the trigger
And ****** myself twice
And change the channel
And flip the switch
And **** it back to sleep
And ignore the moans
Of suicides luxury
And loves misery
It was just a dream
Riding the rails
Of a lost nightmare
On a train that was
Nothing more than
Ghosts and smoke
And whispers
And I slept through
Another forgotten attempt
At love and suicide
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
You may as well,
of course, perusal, per use usual
for us, run on
rule rocking rolled
on by in to the annals,
somewhere, I agreed
with all the rich preachers sell,
breathe,
blow it out,
feel or see, it rippled,
we passed recently
through jello time thread,
that does eventually lead
to you reading this.
That is as true as it ever wished
to be, you know,
I did this,
and it worked.
I was good
at magic tears, my granddaughter taught me,
tears for the weeping other, seen,
there, catch your
breath, the action, laughing is, does what medicines do.
Hap is an elemental idea, a basic hydrogen idea,
comparative happenstance adjust the ocular tension
in the kneck and back, happiness is
breathing, confirm,
means what my CPU dhe
say it is so in words if no other form,
there is no door to hell from here, this
is the point
of Christmas being made…
the promised message is your peace,
make it up, and make it wink, peace
in words
from whither words wisedhe we'ld enjoyed
alliterating as much as some neume harmonies insist
eeee
fa la la 'n' all… rest easy peace where you pray.
A little leaven is accounted, in breathing time,
slow nodding yes I see, so now
breathe, and think, no, it never ends, the task
is to redeem each idle word, we loose,
in these post jello time conditions,
breathe-ing, stepping back breathing, focus
attention what is a minute well spent spilling
a seasonal flow I find, since I was a child, spills
I know the joy of my garden, and I
welcome your presense, as by now, we
look at the cup from the drinker's perspective,
some cups over flow, if these were pages in any
book of life down to the first point
being wisdom prior to light, nada
time and again, OMGOMGOMGOMG
breathe out nasally in and out, stop ask
If this were a novel
a new form now utilized as by a will as old
as any, given his first taste of assisted intuition,
that's it,
qwertyguy, I sit up straight, and burp, ver-ify
virtue flows Thales knew as well as any, wi-ro
How many pages would you love to read,
what would Diogenes say?
Autolycos laughs, a little. But asks as well
his role in some stories is paid hell to know,
usefully.
Dec 18, 2023
Dec 18, 2023 at 10:09 PM UTC
A hundred kisses down I would go gently gliding from the soft spots of your kneck sliding over heart and lovely porcelain colored velvet breast one by one my lips savoring every spot they linger upon as they travel down your abdomen and pause and tremble as I pass your navel and hover in helpless sedation of the seduction of the pleasures waiting to bloom just above and between your thighs and then not even air could take my mouth and tounge away from pressing against your silk and sultry skin and every sweet drop of your nectar wine would be savoured before dancing down my throat and on and on would my kisses go until by shake and quivering your body satisfied and then a hundres kisses more would climb slowly back up with the last one from our meeting lips
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 1:11 PM UTC
Heaven my sweet girl
my beautiful muse
is not a place in the sky
or in far and distant dreams
it is the place I have seen
in the dark endless pupils
of your eyes
and the place my heart sings of
when beating to the rhythm
of your name
it is the way you touch
below the surface of my skin
and carve a moment of eternity
from the dying moonlight
and burn it into my kneck
with the smile of your kiss
and it is only fools love
and a fool that loves you
and it may only be pretend
or words trapped in a book
never to be read
by jestets or queens
and if it is only here in fairy tales
may I never be real
other than these black ink stains
on this lonely page
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
Long day.
Hard day.
Bad day.
You think on the way home from school or work that you will feel better when you get home. You drive down the street and start to think. You think about how your life is **** You think about how you have told yourself your whole life that it will be better soon. You think about how soon is now and its not better. You think about what to do. Your choices are limited to you but you already seem to know your choice. You walk into your house and walk upstairs into your room. You look in your closet. The rope is still there from when you were moving. You grab it. You throw your bag on the floor. You walk to your bed and sit down. You try to tie different knots and realise you fail at that to. You end up googleing how to tie the knot. You struggle for a few minutes but you tie a noose. You tie the other end to the bar on the ceiling of you closet. You go to the bathroom and grab the stool your little sister uses to reach the sink. You put the stool underneath the rope swaying in your closet. You step up onto the stool. The noose sways on front of you. You grab the knotted rope and slip it over your head. You tighten it. Your heart starts beating faster. Your breath gets heavier. Your thoughts start racing. You feel like you cant breathe. You think to yourself its now or never. You make the decision. You jump and kick the stool back. Your neck didnt break immediately so you struggle. You cant breathe. You have so much pressure on your kneck. You cant breathe. Your back hurts. You cant breathe. Your kneck feels bruised. You cant breathe. You sit there with your arms flailing everywhere. You cant breathe. You decide to quit struggling. You calm yourself. You close your eyes. You let go.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 8:50 PM UTC
once you've thought about it
catch it in the feeling below the kneck
before it reaches into your minds eye
your mood is the magnet to all thought realised
Oct 5, 2020
Oct 5, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
Chaos in the making is how it trickles down
When the politicians simper to the average ******* clown.
When the leaders hoot and holler and it all amounts to spin
And futility worn foremost is what we’re swimming in.
When a preacher roars “Believe me” and points to Heaven high
And the congregation rolls it eyes and heaves collective sigh.
When you can’t believe the **** you read in banner headline print
Or help discern the wheat from chaff in globals’ glitter glint.
When we glance askance at neighbours in communitys’ tight shroud
And yet doubt our very brothers’ frank veracity, aloud…..
Then we, dear friend, are knee deep in the doodoos to the kneck
And must seriously question why our values aren’t in check,
Why our trust is shot to tatters and our view, obliquely bent
And the promise for tomorrow lies vanquished, wrought and spent.
M.
Planet Earth
14 February 2019
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 10:01 PM UTC
When I wake tomorrow, there will be no waiver. No wall or water to crest over me. When my kneck pulls my head from the pillow of bed, I will stare into the eyes of a newborn day, and challenge it with anew consistency.
Nothing...today...will stop me.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC