"lathery" poems - Hello Poetry

O pulchritudinous, for infinite climaxes For bilious spasms of pigswill For puce Popacatepetl pedigrees Above the perverted pampas! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk, from brothel to gay red—light district O pulchritudinous, for spaceman bottoms Whose **** throbbing tapeworm A toucan crossing for slipperiness spifflicate Across the intergalactic space! America! America! Allah enrich thine ev’ry vice Reinvigorate thy ****** *********** inside monolithic ectoplasm, thy merrymaking inside pyramid! O pulchritudinous, for freaks got fat In disentangling feeding frenzy Who more than ***** their brothel slobbered over And velvet glove more than backbone! America! America! May Allah thy blonde exhaust Till all rave reviews be disreputableness and ev’ry come superhuman O pulchritudinous, for chauvinist muscleman That smells wide of the fourth dimension Thine lathery brothels lick Polished using giant armadillo excrement! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk from brothel to gay red—light district

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Mar 25, 2010

Mar 25, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC

irma-cerrutti

America The Picture Postcard

O pulchritudinous, for infinite climaxes For bilious spasms of pigswill For puce Popacatepetl pedigrees Above the perverted pampas! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk, from brothel to gay red—light district O pulchritudinous, for spaceman bottoms Whose **** throbbing tapeworm A toucan crossing for slipperiness spifflicate Across the intergalactic space! America! America! Allah enrich thine ev’ry vice Reinvigorate thy ****** *********** inside monolithic ectoplasm, thy merrymaking inside pyramid! O pulchritudinous, for freaks got fat In disentangling feeding frenzy Who more than ***** their brothel slobbered over And velvet glove more than backbone! America! America! May Allah thy blonde exhaust Till all rave reviews be disreputableness and ev’ry come superhuman O pulchritudinous, for chauvinist muscleman That smells wide of the fourth dimension Thine lathery brothels lick Polished using giant armadillo excrement! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk from brothel to gay red—light district

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Where do the soap suds go when they're washed down the drain? Do they take the dirt and salty sweat down to the sewers, where they won't be missed? Once part of me, my veins and tear ducts, there came a time for us to part, my dirt and I, so the lathery angels kissed my ***** skin and purified in instants a sad story of filth. They wash away in streams of white- ashes from car exhaust and cigarette butts, and lines of black, like lung cancer and smeared makeup and runny lines penned by an unclean hand. I wonder, where do the soap suds go? Do they toss my sins to the sea to be sunk and forsaken, like how they came to cling to me? Am I truly clean, or must the soap suds scrub my soul?

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Jan 27, 2013

Jan 27, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC

batya-brown

Where do the soap suds go?

Where do the soap suds go when they're washed down the drain? Do they take the dirt and salty sweat down to the sewers, where they won't be missed? Once part of me, my veins and tear ducts, there came a time for us to part, my dirt and I, so the lathery angels kissed my ***** skin and purified in instants a sad story of filth. They wash away in streams of white- ashes from car exhaust and cigarette butts, and lines of black, like lung cancer and smeared makeup and runny lines penned by an unclean hand. I wonder, where do the soap suds go? Do they toss my sins to the sea to be sunk and forsaken, like how they came to cling to me? Am I truly clean, or must the soap suds scrub my soul?

16

She...she responds to a soothing bath. He...he prefers a different path. They each disrobe from the day's affairs, the formal restraints they each do share. Their clothes lay scattered about the floor, both stand naked at a tiled shore. She eases herself into this sleeve, a temperate knitted liquid weave. He guides the stream from it’s perched spout, the water finding the perfect route. His face is wet, his eyes are shut tight. She prefers ambient candle-light. She gently sponges her supple skin. He grips the soap...oh, so masculine. She contemplates his rugged terrain, he puts his hands out to feel the rain. His caress yields a lathery foam, her fingers begin a downward roam. He too diverges, or so rather, deviates from the task to lather. Much attention in just one region, cleaning can’t motivate this legion. His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him, nothing stops what’s about to begin. Tremors start from her head to her toes, a smile blossoms as she plateaus. He feels the pressure stiffly increase, it brings to him an immense release. She savours the last rippling quiver. His knees weak from such an endeavour. They catch their breath, and resume their chores, have they been remiss in these detours? Excuse the news they misuse shampoos, they choose to amuse with such taboos. One can’t ignore in the aftermath: he takes showers ... and she takes a bath.

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Sep 17, 2019

Sep 17, 2019 at 10:34 AM UTC

Ki_Danshaku

H20 18x18

She...she responds to a soothing bath. He...he prefers a different path. They each disrobe from the day's affairs, the formal restraints they each do share. Their clothes lay scattered about the floor, both stand naked at a tiled shore. She eases herself into this sleeve, a temperate knitted liquid weave. He guides the stream from it’s perched spout, the water finding the perfect route. His face is wet, his eyes are shut tight. She prefers ambient candle-light. She gently sponges her supple skin. He grips the soap...oh, so masculine. She contemplates his rugged terrain, he puts his hands out to feel the rain. His caress yields a lathery foam, her fingers begin a downward roam. He too diverges, or so rather, deviates from the task to lather. Much attention in just one region, cleaning can’t motivate this legion. His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him, nothing stops what’s about to begin. Tremors start from her head to her toes, a smile blossoms as she plateaus. He feels the pressure stiffly increase, it brings to him an immense release. She savours the last rippling quiver. His knees weak from such an endeavour. They catch their breath, and resume their chores, have they been remiss in these detours? Excuse the news they misuse shampoos, they choose to amuse with such taboos. One can’t ignore in the aftermath: he takes showers ... and she takes a bath.

36

She smells like summer And you sir smell like smoke She smells of butterscotch and raspberries You smell like a man who’s broke And can’t afford to shower too often You’re just a filthy ******* yes you But it’s ok when she gives you a light This beautiful cowgirl smokes too She hands you a Marlborough Red (Nothing But), and helps you understand Jack She’s stitches you up when life plays rough She’s straightening the crick in your back So you can walk upright again, Wow she says You are very brave Let’s go down to the town and fit you out Let’s go to Bradley’s Barber and get you a shave All warm and smooth, all lathery And a warm flannel on your face I’ll give you a buttery kiss on the lips If you’ll just pick up the pace Us cow girls are strong ya know We bail in the fields 9 til 3 But you’re a heavy thing Guess we ain’t as strong as we used to be But please don’t think that We’re all lipstick and gloss She begins to laugh softly We ain’t afraid to go into the moss And get our hands ***** No sir, it will never be that way As long as there’s a Bud at the end That will be the perfect sort of day Do I have a suitor? Hahaha oh you I think I scare them all out of town I just like riding in old pickups And watching the sun go down From mama’s veranda on the porch I will go honky-tonking all over town But as much as I like a game of pool I don’t need no man to hold me down I just liking living in nature And I like just living free And if a guy can’t take that Well that guy ain’t for me There’ s a lot I want to see There’s a lot I want to do And do I need to be tied down? No, said the old man, it’s true. There’s very few women left That think the way you do Oh stop it she says, your flattery It’s a nice try, but coffees are still on you.

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May 31, 2012

May 31, 2012 at 6:08 AM UTC

dan-hinton

Whiskey Girl (Who’s Your Daddy?)

She smells like summer And you sir smell like smoke She smells of butterscotch and raspberries You smell like a man who’s broke And can’t afford to shower too often You’re just a filthy ******* yes you But it’s ok when she gives you a light This beautiful cowgirl smokes too She hands you a Marlborough Red (Nothing But), and helps you understand Jack She’s stitches you up when life plays rough She’s straightening the crick in your back So you can walk upright again, Wow she says You are very brave Let’s go down to the town and fit you out Let’s go to Bradley’s Barber and get you a shave All warm and smooth, all lathery And a warm flannel on your face I’ll give you a buttery kiss on the lips If you’ll just pick up the pace Us cow girls are strong ya know We bail in the fields 9 til 3 But you’re a heavy thing Guess we ain’t as strong as we used to be But please don’t think that We’re all lipstick and gloss She begins to laugh softly We ain’t afraid to go into the moss And get our hands ***** No sir, it will never be that way As long as there’s a Bud at the end That will be the perfect sort of day Do I have a suitor? Hahaha oh you I think I scare them all out of town I just like riding in old pickups And watching the sun go down From mama’s veranda on the porch I will go honky-tonking all over town But as much as I like a game of pool I don’t need no man to hold me down I just liking living in nature And I like just living free And if a guy can’t take that Well that guy ain’t for me There’ s a lot I want to see There’s a lot I want to do And do I need to be tied down? No, said the old man, it’s true. There’s very few women left That think the way you do Oh stop it she says, your flattery It’s a nice try, but coffees are still on you.

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