"latino" poems
White folks: pack your bags and go.
Our nut-brown world is quite offended.
Make your shame-faced exit NOW,
And leave your mansions unattended.
Wait—before you pass the doors,
It's time to settle ethnic scores.
No more ragtime Minstrel Show.
Our Moorish Science took it down.
Black lives matter. White, less so—
Now move your pale face out of town . . .
But first, shell out for racial shame
Caucasian losers of the game.
Cultural pride is ours alone:
Kings and Egyptian queens we were.
The glories of our race, well-known
Bedazzle in a darkened blur
(Clear to Africa's descendants—
Puzzling to you white dependents).
Blackness lent your world its light,
Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers.
Scandinavia grew bright
Under our beneficent powers.
Negroes gave your blondes their beauty;
Helped those Norsemen shake their *****
The Seven Wonders of the world:
We built them all. No vain conjecture
Dims our banner, black, unfurled,
Above eternal architecture.
Arts and knowledge gained from us
Are what we threaten to discuss.
We invented math and science
Which you robbed from Timbuktu.
Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance
Caused Old Europe to renew.
All our treasure that you plundered
Testifies: your days are numbered.
Classics of our Greeks you stole:
Philosophy was never yours.
Shame upon your racist soul;
For Bach and Mozart both were Moors.
Misappropriated treasures
call for ruthless hard-line measures.
Latino fate falls next—but, where ?
Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ?
Orientals everywhere:
Choose your side and join the fight.
Blackness rising! Late the hour;
Heed your call to fight the power.
Crackers need to check your race—
Stop rooting for that ****** clown.
Rednecks all up in our face;
Racist throwbacks got us down.
But as your statues bite the dust
Your light goes dark (you know it must).
So move on out, oppressor, thief.
Long have you held our nation back.
In some white galaxy seek relief—
But here the light itself is black.
Stars are racist. So is the sun.
Now let God's great black will be done.
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Forgive yourself
Perfect was never a word suited for you
Love yourself
Everything comes back to this
Love your sister
She has been picked apart, degraded, and has an internal war eating her from the inside out
Love your brother
He has a time stamp of deliverance to a life of incarceration, bullets released from an absence of sense, lack of educated, blind ambitious followers.
Raise your head
You are a Goddess created
with disarming beauty in mind.
Continue to place one foot in front of the other
You are meant and strongly designed for forward movement.
Take no steps back, do not bow down your head, do not close your mouth
In fear that judgment will fall
It will, but you must speak anyways.
Your voice is imperative
to the growth of lost girls who are unsure what real women are made of.
Your voice is imperative to the peaking of the minds of men unsure what to look for in a Queen, show him.
Your voice is imperative to the readjustment of the image of
Black Women with large voices
Black Women with high diction
Black Women with love language
Black Women with literary genius
Black Women filled with nothing less than the peace & love God has manifested within us.
Black Women
Black Women
Black Women
Who love Black men like double chocolate moist bliss
Who love White men like dark roast coffee filled with cream
Who love Latino men like Butterscotch candy dipped in chocolate
The list goes on
Black Women who love like we are bound to implode if we don't give the universe what it is that we need back.
Black Women
Your Mother
Black Women
Your Sister
Black Women
Your Friend
Black Women
Your Lover
Black Woman
Love Her.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
While I don't suffer, or suffer from
Normal, eurocentrism, northern malaise,
Nor, academia, a blood disease,
I do mind manners in which doings
And not doings are done or aren't,
As it brings life and light to them,
Or it doesn't, for those most attached
To living or dying are most closely death.
This while acid rain from your closed eye
And an acre of rainforest falls each second.
Thus Earth's tears bleed for all you see is gray.
As machinations of travailing winds,
Miraging, veil, mirror narcissistic nihlistic
False-ego as self, do "..we(e),.." evince to be?
A republican chides, "put another poet
On the barbie", his idea of conservation.
Prump has had his exec. branch criminally:
Edit the official video and script of his
Helsinki news conference where tutin was asked,
"Did you help prump become president and did you
Have your gov't do the same", with tutin's answers,
"Yes I did, yes, I did..." + premeditatedly separate
Latino families at the border to torture them,
Dictate that "if they want to see their kids again
They have to sign away their rights and leave".
He just said, "don't believe what you hear, see",
Almost a quote from Orwell's '1984', in which
Is written, "this dictate of the gov't was most
Important of all, don't believe what your ears
Hear or your eyes see". Since altright universe
Invaders were installed in the Blackhouse we've
Known things will only get worse, what other
Reason could his "military parade in 11-18" be for
Except military rule, will the American daymare end?
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 7:13 AM UTC
Do you know the meaning of "stop and frisk"?
I'm sorry black brother, you do.
Have you ever had to change your voice in order to get a job?
I'm sorry black sister, you have.
Have you ever had to remove your hijab because you needed to take a flight?
I'm sorry brown girl, you have.
Has anyone ever insisted you have extensive knowledge on every school subject?
I'm sorry yellow friend, someone has.
Have you ever been told to go back to your country, despite the fact that you're already there?
I'm sorry red man, you have.
Have you ever been called and illegal immigrant, but you were born in the u.s?
I'm sorry Latino friend, you have.
Have you ever been told that racism doesn't exist and, by someone with pale skin?
I know I have.
So this is to the ones who have been told that they "aren't black enough" because they use proper grammar and their pants don't sag.
The brown boys with beards that get called "towel heads"
To the Asian kids that are just as smart as the next guy.
To the native Americans that still get called Indians.
To the brown girls that get told that they don't have to wear their scarves because "we're in America"
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
"Hey, Charles! I won't be back."
His friend yells out before
Continuing to eat the face off
Of the young Latino he had met.
"Ok! I guess I can get home.. Somehow..."
He mumbles to himself, signaling to the
Bartender that he wanted to order
Something off menu.
He pays no attention to the trans
Woman who sits down beside him.
"I'll have a watermelon sangria, please."
he requests softly, but confidently.
The lady by him chuckles,
"Watermelon? That's odd."
Her voice is rich with flavor,
And humor.
"It is odd. But so am I." He mumbles.
"It seems that way, doesn't it? Well,
at least now I can call you Melon
Rather than ask your name!"
"A rather odd nickname for an odd person."
And so their conversation continued.
It became all the more lively once
'Melon' had had a couple rounds.
Both drunk and desperate, they
Kiss passionately in the gay bar,
Paying no heed to the others
Yelling "Get a room!"
Roaming hands.
Stumbling up stairs.
Drunken giggles.
Broken speech.
"You're so beautiful." He whispers.
Skin against skin,
Burning hot,
Both mad with desire.
Panting.
Groaning.
Moaning.
Ecstasy.
It's late at night.
They manage to call
A taxi, and go home.
Home to Melon's apartment.
The next morning was spent
Drinking ****** Mary's and
Making an account of what
Happened the night before.
That, and more ***
Hot, ****** ***
Passionate, lively
And loving ***
Charles sits up in his bed.
He feels something sticky.
"Oh, that's disgusting!"
****** *** indeed.
He stands up to clean himself
Off in the bathroom, but he
Hears the shower running.
"Did I get laid last night?"
He peeps into the shower
And sees the woman from
His dream. "Eva?" He asks.
"Who else would it be?"
"Why are you in my apartment?"
Charles exclaims. Eva turns and
Raises an eyebrow at him.
"I live here, Melon."
"Since when? We hooked
Up just last night!"
"Darlin', we've been
married for 4 years!"
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
The white man leaves his house
Some white women leave theirs
The rest wear spandex and push stroller
The Latino man comes
To build houses to paint houses
The Asian man comes
To build houses to paint houses
The Latina women comes
To take care of the kids
Some Asian men and women
Work in the laundry mat
The rest of the businesses
Owned by white people
The white man comes back
Some white women come back
And everyone else leaves
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
While I pretty much opined for this impeachment
my fellow Americans voted for this guy and they could be right
I’ve been wrong before, stuck as we are with a system
that generates some perplexful leaders, democracy being the worst form
of government—
except for all the others.
Anyone can be president, that’s been proven time and time again.
Wars can start for no discernible reason other than
radical purity, avarice, cupidity, gluttony, rapacity, even affluenza—
meanwhile life goes on outside all around you
perhaps you identify as Jewish, Latino, Muslim, Indian or Filipino
asexual, cybersexual, somasexual, hypersexual, homosexual, pentasexual
it doesn’t really matter, nothing **** matter matters, matter
content of life (serious, love it) hate death for the hell of it
to see what it’s like inside the heart of darkness.
Not that I accept their god, their void, I accepted humanity as a natural
part of nature
demisexual, downsexual, ecosexual, Eurosexual, eversexual, exsexual,
extrasexual, femtosexual, Francosexual, geosexual, gigasexual,
Grecosexual, Indosexual, intersexual, kilosexual, macrosexual,
malsexual, megasexual, metasexual, microsexual, missexual,
medisexual, mocksexual, monosexual, muchsexual, multisexual,
mustsexual, nearsexual, neosexual, nonsexual, oftsexual,
omnisexual, oversexual, pansexual, parasexual, partsexual,
photosexual, polysexual, postsexual, presexual, pseudosexual,
psychosexual, quasisexual, rentasexual, selfsexual, semisexual,
Sinosexual, subsexual, supersexual, telesexual, terrasexual,
ubersexual, ursexual, ultrasexual, undersexual, vicesexual,
weresexual, wikisexual, zoosexual.
When I did that I had to pay the rent and get a job, too.
Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 7:12 AM UTC
black, white, brown
red, blonde, brunette
blue, amber, emerald
everyone so different
no one the same
short, tall, thin, fat
every size, shape
divergent, unique
Spanish, French, Japanese
Latino, Asian, Vietnamese
north, south, east, west
England, Morocco, Paraguay
child, adolescent, adult
heart, lung, eyes, brain
soul, spirit, mind
fear, love, pain, strength
unalike......identical
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 7:13 PM UTC
I wanna dance the mambo,the cubin cuba mambo,
I wanna dance the cha cha,hips movement with the cha cha!
or maybe try the salsa, deep ,sensual, is the salsa.
I wanna dance the samba,the fun brazilian samba,
or maybe the lambada,brazilian hot lambada!
My favourite s' the tango,intense ****** tango,
Lost in the flamenco,ardent spanish flamenco.
May even try the polka,high energy in polka,
the Czech bohemian polka!
I wanna go and party,good time ,dancing the rumba,
latino americano,cubano, africano.
I wanna do the hip hop,hip hop,hip hop,don't stop.
Dance reign in the ballroom,
as I dance the Ball Room,under and above,
With you ,I dance my last dance,the classic dance of love.
Are you ready partner ?
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 2:54 AM UTC
A gaggle of glamour girls,
Debutantes of Times gone by.
With talk of Aruba,
White Sands and clear blue waters,
Spoken to inspire jealousy to all those around.
And of organization,
Motherhood and label makers,
Construction of pigeon holes for every part of life.
And the Latino Girl at work,
Whispers of the lasciviousness of a life unknown,
In the silliness of two glasses of white wine each.
I smoke a barrier between them and me.
In an effusive hurried rush they leave,
In search of sustenance of the soul,
In search of Sisterhood.
I sit in a Dewar’s drought.
She walks by and grazes her fingertips across my back,
A touch of familiarity,
A touch that I long for.
Gently, I speak,
Within this microcosm,
You stand as Aphrodite.
Smiling, she goes about her work.
I return the appreciation,
The warmth of bad bourbon,
Exuding from my pores.
Cause I sit in a Dewar’s drought.
They sit down in the virility of youth,
Testosterone tilted hats,
Speaking the language of Poser Street,
In the melody of white noise.
Showcasing the uniforms of a self-created culture.
I turn and tune them out.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
Take my hand - you've got to
feel fun time's heading
closer
Futuristic daydreams
are at hand -handy!
microchipped wild
boys and girls
on rent - hardly paid off -
dance! Roll the dice!
Flicker eyes!
Adrift on the dimlit
flourescent
effervescent
reflector rays°°°°you're
never lost or at loss;
Coloured circles glide
across the dancefloor______
bouncy boots swoon, high heels
crack, remastered barefoot Tribe~
Enjoys momentary revelations!
Latino lovers attracting
honey dew magnetic more-s
rain coats off - smiley coasts shine on~
those cunning shenanigan freckles
pressed redhair beauties against
needy torsos in ecco-leather jackets
electrified silhouettes stunning
like elves un-fading beauty
transforming tuxedos
of a tight
night; a jingle of
Prague crystals into
one dancing wave submerged
by the vicinity of hissing tongues
-been- beaten by fierce kissing
in a stronghold ballroom
frenzy - polarized
beatings - hi-s and bye-s ; a
stroboscopic syncopation
ecstatic hips,
space shuttle
trips
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
Where do we belong?Where did we go wrong?
Weren't Our emotions deep enough, to make us stay?
I look back in yesterday,I swear,Can still hear you play,
a latino boy,playing his guitar,singing a love song,
to a brown eyed girl,born in the month of May
Our candle blaze no light,Our flame has slowly died,
No more stars to watch,No sweet kisses in the night,
Our ardent river of fervent dreams has dried,
No cheek to cheek,No smiles to greet,We left it all,
You are not here,I am not there,We are forever gone
Where do we belong?Where did we go wrong?
Weren't our emotions deep enough,to make us stay?
I look back in yesterday,I swear, Can still hear you play,
a latino boy,playing his guitar,singing a love song,
to a brown eyed girl,born in the month of May
Happy Promises buried in grains,we won't see face to face,
Can't hear your voice,Silence echoe in cold and distant caves,
Two hearts carried away,by desperate tides and savage waves.
Soft whispers whirled in strong winds, not knowing where to blow,
I'm yours,You're mine,have sunk in space and time of letting go.
Where do we belong?Where did we go wrong?
Werent Our emotions deep enough to make us stay?
I look back in yesterday,I swear,Can still hear you play,
a latino boy,playing his guitar, singing a love song,
to a brown eyed girl,born in the month of May.
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 1:45 AM UTC
"Hola mi amigo"
That is how they greed us
in the states, but
don't blame them, because
we are the Latino's lost twin
Next time
don't let them
judge the book by it's cover
tell them that within the book
it reads:
*we are pohnpei
the garden island in the pacific
on the map
we are midnight stars
in broad daylight, but
through the lens of a telescope
one shall be blinded by our beauty
for we are
sweet harmonies of birds singing
before sunrise, and
sweet perfumes of island flora
pouring through your nostrils
we are reflection of sunsets
stretching out into the open sea
glittering, like
diamonds beneath the sunlight
we are children in Christmas
crowding along the roads
clutching onto plastic bags
waiting joyfully for Santa
to ride into town and
rain candies on them
we are dusty old tires
diving and splashing into
muddy pool *** holes
on a paved road
we are coconut milk
leaking through
the valley of ten fingers
wedded in a shape of a ball
and pouring onto breadfruits
we are wooden hulls of canoes
smashing through the waves
like a bull through a red cape
we are grandmothers telling
ancient local tales to her kids
and fathers showing his sons
how to become island men
we are the powerful kava
repeatedly pounded on a flat stone
forming a liquid
brown as a chocolate milk
and when one drinks
the world suddenly becomes
a quiet peaceful place
we are pig meats
heated beneath flaming rocks
covered with banana leaves
we are proud and peaceful
we bow to show respect towards
one another, visitors and their highness
we have five kings
and we are one
our home abounds with mysteries
but we see what is behind the cover
some of us have left
to pursue their curiosities
but we will always be one
and when the rain
falls on a sunny day
we understand that
one of us is at peace
we don't have any museums
but we see our history through
Nan Madol
we don't have any towers
but we see our lands from
towering mountains
and we have seen them
burnt to ashes, but
we survived, and
we never left*...
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Not quite white
Not quite latino
Not quite anything
Too dark to be white
Too light to be latino
Too mixed to be anything
Not quite that language
Not quite that accent
Not quite anything
Too feminine for this
Too masculine for that
Too mixed to be anything
Not quite this thing
Not quite that thing
Not quite anything
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 7:15 PM UTC
The lock on my mouth tightens
My ears turn red
Like the tied knots in my stomach
All the dripping sweat…
The hard work goes to waste
Fear stares me in the face
How I dread that bitter taste
All I hear is that **** beating
Questions and Questions
Mexican? American? Hispanic? Chicano? Latino?
I say neither
The lock on my mouth tightens
Insecurities and bruises underneath my skin
You’re not good enough or smart enough
Stop trying, there’s no such thing as luck
So buckle up
This road I take isn’t easy
I see yellow, brown, and black
But I don’t forget the clouds above are White
It’s time for change I say
Course after course
Finding pieces to my key
My consciousness now aware
I’m brilliant
Now I begin to believe and see
The lock on my mouth opens
I can finally hear my voice breathe
I say “It’s interesting you feel that way”
Now it’s my turn to speak.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Green giants swaying to a calypso melody
Cuban guitars nuance the springtime scenery
Beautiful Wisteria dancers and Dogwood musicians
Latino songbirds delivering ambitious acapella dreamscapes .. Caribbean percussive timbre in pitch perfect three point harmony ..
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 4:37 PM UTC
Be proud to be white.
Be proud to be black.
Be proud to be Latino.
Not to the point you called a racist.
That's not truly what proudness is about.
Be proud to be Italians, German, really any nationality.
Except not to the point of being called a bigot.
That defeats the purpose of what proud is about?
It's not about a flag waving to create a disturbance.
Or pump fist with bad intention even if you're claiming it represent being united.
Be proud to be, whatever?
As long as it's serving a principle in life.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
Reading and researching about fiction and facts.
You try to clear up our racist past.
When a black walked into a eating establishment to eat.
You ponder and wonder about those racists wrath.
What about the skin of a person that makes fools reacts?
Or those that intimidated not stand up to wrong.
When we remain quiet we gives stupidity a home.
Then you ponder and wonder about the bigots.
Maybe, they wasn't afraid of the blacks.
But afraid of their own.
Many racists don't truly have a happy home.
When a Latino illegally or legally comes to America.
Who really believes they taking anyone job?
Many are working hard at jobs that hard working Americans avoid.
We must address our inner self.
For within our hearts lies an answer.
We all see things from a different view.
When judgment day comes.
And you must be held accountable before God.
And He ask you what wrong did you do?
Will you be truthful without offering an excuse?
Yes, you can reform your love for the people you hate.
But God requires us to do before we standing at the gate.
Cause, standing before Him now.
Just might be a little late.
But we are dealing with the human nature of the flesh.
And that alone create most of our trouble.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
i stand with my sisters --
hijab-wearing, undocumented
black, brown, beautiful, brilliant;
women who love women;
women who have the right
to answer to their names,
instead of a “sugar” or “honey” or “baby”
yelled by a stranger on a street corner;
terrific trans women;
women, who must have the right
to decide what should happen
to their own
bodies
i stand with my brothers --
men who love men
and men who are afraid to say that they do;
Muslim men, Latino men,
feminist men, trans men;
and those who are neither men or women,
non-binary friends of all shapes and sizes
and colors and creeds;
every person who has never felt
like they belonged
and i stand with my people --
the people of America.
we know deep in our hearts
that hate is not the answer;
and so we march on
and fight on
and force our voices out into the universe
and it is not futile,
it is not for nothing,
it will never be for nothing.
for those who believe
to love is the most important thing we'll ever do:
i stand with you.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
“Immigrant” has somehow become a bad word.
When to me immigrants are the people who fight to be heard.
They are the people who are ignored,
The people who work hard without reward.
They’re not back until after dusk and leave the house before dawn,
They’re not just the people who mow your lawn.
People will discriminate,
But I’m proud of from where I originate.
With rich culture that in which the word “ashame” does not exist.
In this so called “country of the free” we will resist.
We will join with others to make our bruises known
For we won’t stay quiet while being disowned
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 4:03 PM UTC
This is the shorter edited version of our story. It tells you the facts, but it doesn't tell you the why. It leaves a lot of blanks that you can fill in, so it could be about your own highschool experience. If you want to know our story, read the unedited version.
There were five of us.
Freshman who grew up to be seniors
There was the oldest, the skinny one
He was tall and awkward
He was so quiet and shy
He only texted
He was uncorrupted
He was a lover
Then there was the Latino
Amazing athletic talent
A great friend
Funny as hell
Romantic and gentle
Loyal and patient
Next came the little one
Obedient and but passionate
Younger than everyone
Guileless and enchanting
In love with the latino
The most bendable, changeable one
Also there was the clown
Everyone’s friend, no one’s best friend
Wannabe family man
Strangely perceptive
Always smiling
Ladies’ man
And then there was me.
Full of surprises
Loud, rebellious, crazy
Fearless, childish
Independent and devoted
Steady and never-changing, slightly judgmental
That was us.
We were all connected, but also independent
The boys fought
Mostly over the little one
Then we fell apart.
We’re almost unrecognizable
The tall one, the oldest
Got his first girlfriend
He befriended so many girls
But secretly was dreaming of the little one
He’s leading his brother
And he doesn’t even know it
The latino is mostly the same
He doesn’t fight as much
But he never got over the little one
Now he just gets admirers
He’ll grow out of high school
He already knows how to do life
The little one got so lost along the way
But I decided to stick around cuz she’s my best friend
She’s already taking college classes
She’s working with children
Now she’s planning her life
But she doesn’t seem happy
The clown found himself friendless
He made a lot of dumb mistakes
He still hangs around
He parties and smokes
To hell with being good
At least he’s accepted his fate
And I’m lost too
I don’t party or drink or smoke or have ***
But I’m losing my religion
Bad things have happened to me
I’m no better than my friends
I’m sad I’m no longer special
And so we’re lost
Some are on the mend
But we made it through high school
We got so messed up along the way though
I drive home listening to Queen
The clown showed me that one song
And I cry because we are the champions
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
You say freedom of speech
But not for me as things be
I breath heavy with scenes
See things as a minority
As a young Latino male
I see lots of myself in jail
Traps are set and on sell
Equal blood color is spilled
Martial law across the hall
Racial wars coming along
Rest in peace to Trayvon
Another young man gone
Contributions are all illusions
Spreading through confusion
Relations between contusions
Love for those who abuse them
One of my best friends is black
One of my best friends is white
One of my friends is masculine
One of my friends is feminine
One of which was a criminal
One of which was a clinical
Both of my friends are humans
Finding out life is so typical
Two of my jewels were blue
Two of my girls shared hue
Two of my schools loved me
Two of my enemies cut me
Two of my mothers cried
Two of my brothers died
Both of which had big futures
Before hate took their lives
Three of my peers are my equal
Three of my peers make new evil
Three of my tears stained the paper
Three of my years were endangered
Three of my hearts broke in time
Three of my guardians declined
All three rose up against me
And began to belittle my mind
Replies depend on the victims
And the symptoms felt in them
To fight back or stop living
To keep going or be bed ridden
Is the valley to deep to dip in
Are the times increasing division
Humans beings have hurt vision
Blind to a philosophy holistic
The clocks are going tic tic
I've been called a young ****
My friends ancestry exist
My friends ignorance is bliss
He holds onto passive racism
He doesn't notice the shifting
He says, "I have black friends
But... ," Just to avoid friction
So you say freedoms of speech
But you don't really know me
As a majority with a minority
How can you experience things
That your culture brought to me
Left my people ***** and hurting
And I'm not from genes of slavery
So think before you speak.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
the ages of all these things,
The pipes are unknown to **** ages
Do not be a willing party, the smoke of zero,
the radius, the robot;
it is the very beginning,
to kiss my feet out of the city, in the garden,
make a fortune, once the glory & the daughter were flickering;
They have blown the sand of the natural ****** Maecenas
the former a son of a stripper,
holding ponds; He is the loving impulse,
but do not rely on him, the pond in itself a ****** shape;
Christians should not be;
a little of the skin of the Muses,
fingers buried; she fell,
Remember, warmed,
let him be unjust to them,
whom the master
had gone against the wishes of the ages
of all these things, to understand,
Guns were made to **** in ages unknown
& do not smoke in the rays of the robot
said to be the deserted corners of the city,
once to kiss his feet, and the fate of the garden;
& gypsy, daughter skinny ******
blown sand; Maecenas given to Abraham's side
in the form of a daughter, the tenant is a stripper in the Chinese
fashion;
Do not imagine that the decline in lovers,
The Christian showing not a little skin, muses
fingers buried; and fell
Remember the warm adversary, to understand,
has been unknown to all the ages of this, **** guns,
they smoke the robot with the radius it is written in
the town is called the Lord of the angle
of the stream of languid sleep, kissed him,
& the fate of the garden of a gypsy,
the daughter of the skinny ****** of wind, sand,
Jack, a Latino mom's mouth, is for the appearance
of the daughter, holding down the Chinese stripper,
turning to imagine the lover was the Christian Church,
skin, muses little fingers buried are fallen,
Satan draws herself, sweltering she remembers;
understand this is unknown to all ages
to **** with guns, do not smoke when the rays
of the robot it is called the town of
stroke corner of the deserted kiss
his feet, & the fates of the garden, & gypsy,
the daughter of skinny
****** & blown sand; Jack Abraham, at mom's side;
is the form of a daughter,
holding the stripper is Chinese;
Turn not to the image for the lover is in the
Christian church, not a little skin muses
fingers buried; & they fell,
Remember that draws hot Satan
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
Music fills her soul
as different
melodies capture her moods
who hasn't yearned
for that country
somebody did somebody wrong song
or just feeling
crazy
or want to jazz it up with
a little of the Latino explosion
visiting Birdland when all else fails
dancing the night away to Donna
saving that last dance for someone special
chilling to the smooth blues' riff
as Michael Grimm crones
how you don't know him
every now and then
when the mood is
right
moonlight sonata calls
and romance and roses win the night
who can resist
when a gal's
in the mood
or sitting before a campfire
signing of the harvest moon
sometimes a body just feels lost
looking for a way to get "closer to god
and f#@*%ing like an animal
to feel alive
or banging it out
to AC/DC
beebooping to Madonna or Lady Gaga,
or justifying that
bad love
trying to convince
yourself
that you like the way he lies
maybe relaxing and
using your imagination
while you talk about stupid girls
and all that garbage
listening to the B52s
and
doing the rock lobster
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
After a good workout, when I'm hot and sweaty,
I want you more than any other time.
I want to taste you.
You're so fresh.
Others know you, but not like I.
I love your wraps that surround you.
That surround the flesh.
I'm drooling.
Let them stare.
You're there for me whenever I crave you.
When I desire you. And I go to you sometimes even when I don't.
And that happy latino dance music you like to play makes me want to dance.
But most of the time I just want you naked.
All laid out in front of me.
“Have a bowl,” you say.
“I just want you in my hands, right now.” I say back.
You always make me thirst with your hotness,
I drink water.
After class, before class, sometimes I think about you during class.
“I want you in my hands,” I say again.
“No really, have a bowl,” you say again.
I give in and I take a bowl.
Then,
I begin to devour you with passion.
Moaning and giggling.
Our bodies become one as I begin to breath heavier and heavier.
I being twitching in pleasure when suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Sir, you're going to have to leave Chipotle.”
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC