Vincii Nov 2014
Sa dami ng lalaki sa mundo,
Ang pinili mo'y ako,
Kaya ako'y nangangako,
Nung sinagot mong OO,
Ikaw na ang nagsilbing buhay ko..

Mahal kita,hndi lang dahil magnda ka,
Kundi aking nkkta, langit sayong mga mata,
Masarap ka,di lng dahl maputi ang yong hita,
kundi aking nadarama,paraiso sa tuwing kausap ka.
Bruce Mackintosh Sep 2012
It should be
I don’t
look good
in shorts --
white spindly
like those on
an emu
and big
fat feet
slapping the
Pen Lux Jul 2010
The woman on the corner forgot to shave her legs,
but  men are only interested in  soft women,
inside and out.
She couldn't  go home, or call,
because she didn't have a phone.
So she sat on the corner
with nothing to keep her warm
except the hair on her legs.

A man walked by who wanted her service,
he had a bag of lemons and an old watch,
she noticed he was wearing shorts,
the amount of  hair on his legs made her feel better.
Anthony Williams Jul 2014
It was always going to be black and white
that's the typeface on my preference of late
defining day and night with your choice of tights
those fine dividing lines on your partnered limbs
wrapped tall in belts daring as a Lara Croft climb
a silky striped raggedy ann gone neat sensuous
tight strapped to a two striking sinuous princess
committed to lodge sins inside my Loveland challenge
hemmed in round towers together to never-never unhinge

at home we horse around and rub along together
boosted by the interplay between cotton twill gathered
pulled low one side then canter balance riding high
as you level up to a line up of outbound thigh
saddled with a lovely leg stirrup over here
and a lean waist wobble to match up there
eyebrow lifts to starch arrowroot attention
over the swings and sway of every action
so swift I play catch-up each morning
delayed by fumbling for ones gone matching
it's a wonder you don't just wander away
in a daze from my one legged hopping display

then I would travel far as a bee
long-legged as stilts could be
to sing to your nails and feet
and be spun free flaunting
our google
a red white and blue
pair of giggles unfurled like flags
in your slim line dancers' legs
dangling ideas like fair weather socks
to goggle one direction behind your back
unique like nobody else contains within
thin licked then rolled back ciggie skins
so I pinch holes in the bacci parts
sinking into slats like leaky wooden boats
your avoiding tiptoes gadfly and curl in return
my feet undoing knits with swats and swirls
toeing tinkling notes like piano keys
undertones pink tinged with tingling knees
and when a jukebox plays
my coins are there always
for I've got your pop socks in motion
your vox populi's united under my skin
with impressive pulled tight bands
embedding imprint elastic rings
inky red slinking down
leaving parallel links

ignore my pins and needles
alone in dead of night
longing for your leggings
luminous stripe tights
today it's all me put on the spot
today it's music you might hate
biographies of people you don't like
subtitled movies too deep to bother
blue jeans dull dyed against your garter belt
a one man team can't DIY a drill majorette
spiralling shafts that come to a threaded point
enthralling with alternating knee bend bit pants
so pretty poly soft I'm pulled up like a fool
fully mixed up by your weaving cotton wool
wave me down in your way of sweet patter feet
a patterned cakewalk for you to catwalk sock it
to me in a stand in posey kind of way
this way to stand outs knitted to fancy
uncross your legs and cross-stitch
my path with gaited kisses
by Anthony Williams
The woman had legs.
The room gasped when she entered.
The woman had hair.
Red curls past her shoulder.
Lips, eyes, and skin too.
The woman had assets.

But she was not mine, nor any others.
Jesus Christ her body...

But I have my priorities straight.
Tonight was perfect.
Faith Feb 2014
You gave me a topic,
and you told me to go from there.
If only you knew what I thought of whenever you said 'legs.'

How can I possibly go from here,
whenever legs take me back to there?
If only you knew what I thought of whenever you said 'legs.'
Pea Oct 2014
My legs will soon rot
before i've time to bury
them in the backyard
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
sun, light, murmurs
through slatted edifices
onto restless 4s

they shuffle tireless
ssssn uf fle
those 4s
ever do
on strawlittered floors

in woodly cages

a 2 enters
pets 4 1
whispers to 4 2
soothes their aches

2 astride 4 1
clumsy gallop

through golden portals
into virgin time
Murphy Lynne Sep 2014
At the skinny legs
Wishing i had those
Gorgeous legs
That everyone is jealous
My legs are covered
In fat and cellulite
I just want to be pretty
Is that too much to ask?
Too see what everyone else
Sees in me
Arlene Bozich Jan 2013
How pretty the skin on the worthless breeder
With hair that caged the essence of strawberries
What a soul that burns electric in the common neon night!
But all he can see are her legs.

I guess those are good too.
punk rock hippy Sep 2014
To lose what I've gained would be such a wonderful thing.
Losing is winning
AJ Robertson May 2013
solid congealed masses of fat sit
balloons filling within joints
stagnant extremities feel as if they are solidifying
the man becoming a statue; a watcher
here lies a perfect specimen of 21st (and in the latter half to a third) a  20th century man seated before the primary means of oral, aural and visual communication.  Oral pertaining to the man's ability to only speak of it and the programmes displayed on it . . . .  .
as still as the brain is telling them to be
as still as the brain wants them to be
it doesn't want to be left out you see, feels secluded when dormant
alongside a healthy, active set of limbs and torso
so it persuades them ever so gently to become as lazy as he
so he feels more at home in his body; the brain he lords over the body tyrannically and purposefully.

Extraneous effort can be avoided, in all manners of life; whilst sitting, whilst working, whilst running.  Being properly lazy has to do with how little you can do without doing something else.  It is possible to run at a speed that does not cease to be running but it is not walking.  You can sit only so still before you are asleep.  Being properly lazy is being able to sit precariously on this line so perfectly you don't slip backwards or forwards into a useful action or being in the top percentile of the new lesser action which you are in essence, lording over physically.  An extremely intelligent man can be extremely lazy in an activity that would take a long concentrated effort from another less intelligent man, but in essence, he is really just avoiding falling asleep.

Laziness can be misappropriated; attributed to men who are not lazy at all.  A man at the enth of any discipline could not be considered lazy; the same could be said about a man at the enth of his ability.  We speak of course in terms of natural ability.  Actions achieved in ones current capability; carried out without carrying on other efforts to cavort himself into a higher category of actions (a laziness compared to ability graph could be constructed/plotted and then correlated if one could be bothered).  Of course, it goes without saying that the achievance of these goals necessary to propel or descend a man into the new upper or lower segment of before described laziness are in turn harder or easier to achieve depending on the man's predetermined stature; position in life even, considering we are talking of afflictions that affect a man and not a boy, and therefore we are assuming that the formative years are not thus (formative) and are but a compulsory precursor, a cross that every man must bear; not a development that pertains to the quantity of laziness he possesses.

with a sea of unachieved tasks/goals laid out before him he resides to sit patiently waiting for something to happen in front of him, sometimes clicking a mouse, sometimes a remote
sometimes he is angry that he is boring
sometimes he calls a friend to be angry at the boxes with him
sometimes he feels sick that he is a piece of shit
sometimes he laughs at people on the boxes who are pieces of shit
but most of the time he is a piece of shit happily, content that he is at least part of a healthy digestive system, whether he is the result/byproduct of, or the action that produced the shit in the first place.
Jessica Nichole Apr 2011
I have hairy legs.
The dishwasher is broken.
I have been reading books.
I have been solving stupid math equations

I have to wash the food crusted dishes.
I’m writing a novella
I’m also researching sodium chloride
My novella is only six pages single-spaced so far.

Comment vous appelez-vous?

Why doesn’t anyone participate
In the
Wash Your Own Damn Dishes Program?
I’m studying French.
-b +/- Square root of b2 – 4 (a)(b) over 2(a)

I have been teaching myself
How to play my
[I don’t know why,
But it’s stretchy
Like mozzarella cheese]

I have to help my sister-in-law move
Into my house.
Into the basement.
Heh heh heh.

Daiya non-dairy cheese:
“Melts and stretches!”

Now I have to scrape the
Black tar gunk
Off the plates, because
Mother told me to do so.

Oh, the odium of sodium!

There is
No more time
For me
To shave
My legs.
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