"lollypop" poems
i'm your o so wanna be lover
I'm afraid not what you would expect though
i admit to being a difficult pleasure
perhaps
a tad strange looking
squishy with long tentacles
half man half octopus
with a winking cycloptic eye
i entreat you
looks can be deceiving
how many pretty boys have you loved
crawling worms for a soul
that have left you a ruined creel
a jagged cry chattering tears of desolation
have you ever asked your self
who adores you
who would give all to protect love and cherish
i'm waving my eight arms at you
from the center of the universe
i eat black holes to kiss your ***
am i not a cosmic horror
with my big Cthulhu smile
quivering with tenderness
do you hunger for butter **** lollypop
i have two big **** heartbreakers
with teardrop curves
a feast for your ravenous holes of emptiness
and many armed tentacles to hold you tight
to slither all over your tender woven caves
to pull you into me
with suckers that thrill
during swirling inky *****
i will unravel your mind
your soul tilthed
if you can get passed
my
gray rubbery boneless head
i can push this shape-shifting balloon face
through your annul tubular contours
all the way up your beautiful ***
licking
salivating
tickling into your
tender bowel and throat
like a great dancing tongue
a stretched waving goodness
entering your mouth from the back side
can pretty pretty do that?
come slowly unto me my beloved
i am all chromatophores
endless glittering nightlights
incandescent
so we may wander our way through long dim nights ******
in the deep deep dark
with tentacle ***** galore
an infinity of entertainment
for every crevice and desire
and one winking cycloptic eye
that pierces your soul
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
Love is a ***** soup going stale but steaming like it's brand new;
And I'm Oliver twist walking up to the *** with a rusty spoon full of desire and hope asking for more but getting none.
Love is a Doctor gathering dead bodies and shackling them up in chains;
And I'm a green freak with Frankenstein bolts ****** through my head walking around with only a mumble to muster trying to love people who just want to run away.
Love is a white paper rolled so finely, full of sedatives and drugs;
And I'm sitting by a fire reaching in for a log to smoke.
Love is puzzle made by Einstein and Sam Loyd;
And I'm a child with eyes made of glass and hands made of thorns crying to my mother because that puzzle is a *****
Love is Navy Seal training on a beach covered in cold water spilling blood for a chance;
And I'm a pot-smoking hippie who holds up signs and tells soldiers they’re monsters as I take a puff of death.
Love is a ten-syllable word compacted into one;
And I'm a hooked on phonics children’s thesaurus struggling to find a comparison that I can actually pronounce.
Love is a white egg timer sitting on the fridge set to all nines;
And I'm a busy housewife waiting to cook dinner at the sound of its bell.
Love is a robber with a 45 in his belt;
And I'm an eager dad trying to protect his family with a wooden stick.
Love is hot coffee from a luxury beverage shop;
And I'm a plastic party cup melting away.
Love is a doctor with a PHD in heart surgery;
And I'm a sick child waiting with his mother with no healthcare ******* on a free doctor’s-office lollypop.
Love is a huge pink eraser;
And I'm a graphite pencil struggling to write while me and the eraser fight.
Love is a pickup truck speeding through town drunk;
And I'm a lost puppy running through the same intersection looking for my owner.
Love is meant for fish;
And I'm a bird.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
She lets me try it on.
I want it. But I don’t get presents like she does.
It’s beautiful. Bright with a white, fluffy trim. Zip and
poppers all the way up.
She widens her eyes. Twists her hands into claws
and she says “Little Red, come here and climb into bed…”
I laugh. Her wolf sounds just like Grandma.
Ma swings her arm back. I stop.
She turns to see what’s changed. It isn’t funny anymore.
I hear the thwack as Ma’s hand connects with her nose. It
was an accident.
Should’ve been the side of her head.
Now there’s blood.
She buries her face, wraps her arms round my waist.
A darker red blooms on the nylon.
She calms down but she’s shaking. We untangle and I help
her on with the coat.
I don’t want it.
We wait for a while in silence; shredding lollypop sticks,
peeling the top off an old lemonade-can.
She starts to cut neat, tiny crosses into her fingertips.
Not deep.
But I’ve seen enough. I feed the lollypop sticks and
lemonade-can to the cracks between the planks of the pier.
The hood covers her eyes completely. I think she’s stopped
crying.
“You look just like Little Red” I tell her.
She says “Maybe I am.”
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
carried buildings around
in his head, not real buildings
just un-sketched plans,
you understand?
He had always wanted to build a replica of
the town where he was born
not from mortar or bricks
but from spaghetti and matches and
lollypop sticks.
He wanted to build the fire station and a church
and the supermarket where he would make
tiny shopping trolleys and scatter them over
the make believe car-park where tiny
people would be carrying on with their daily chores
holding tiny bags and thinking big thoughts
He wanted there to be a spacious park for
imaginary children to enjoy wholesome picnics.
And ponds where geese, ducks and swans would
glide on the surface
near broccoli sized trees.
The town in his head would be better then the town in which
he walked but he had one big problem
he spend hours wondering how he could make the sun.
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
I want to
be childish
eat pizza every day
be stylish
wear sweat pants all day
steal a lollypop
and give it back tomorrow
be happy one day,
the next full of sorrow
learn how to tweet
like the sweetest bird
buy a lama
breed a herd
Cut my hair short
dye it blonde
and black
or blue
don't take a path
just walk through.
jump on my bed
wear my hair down
paint my nails blue
practice a frown
mess up the bath
flood the kitchen
skip lessons of math
kiss my reflection
and marry myself
collect old fairy tales
build a bookshelf
paint my walls green
then purple
then blue
walk backwards
talk funny
and one day
meet you.
I want to meet you
but I want to remain myself.
I want to show you,
my incredible wealth.
The wealth I collected,
while being myself.
And may it just be,
the fairies in the shelf.
I want to meet you,
I want to share
But I want you to treat me right
and want you to care.
Not so much,
just a little,
so I know you are mine.
Make sure we stay you
you and I
and we'll shine.
I want to be childish.
Do you?
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
It's like...
waking up, terrified in the middle
of the night just to reach for your hip
because you need to know that the bone
is still standing up tall under your skin
It's like...
wrapping your thumb & pointer finger
tight around your wrist in the middle of
a shift just to make sure it's still narrow
enough to fit
It's like...
tapping on your rib cage
or pulling at your thighs
It's like...
buying rings too small for your fingers
because you know they're getting thinner
It's so much more than puking in the shower
It's so much more than the days without food
It's feeling like a survivor for killing yourself
It's this sense of inner pride for hurting your body
It's disordered thinking and self induced migraines
It's crying & smiling for all the wrong reasons
It's forgetting how to love
It's the deepest form of loathing
It's guilt
It's obsession
It's destruction
And it will be the death of me
But hey, at least I'll die skinny
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
He lay on the bed wearing nothing but a wicked smile.his muscular body begged me to come and caress every last inch.
He crawled to the end of the bed putting his arms round my waist.pulling me in close to his well tone muscular body.
He said lay beside me and tonight I'll take you beyond the stars.we will go higher than man ever could.
His soft lips kissing my neck his hands slowly moved up my thighs.gilding over my stomach caressing my *******
Our naked bodies entwined it stared with a passion kiss.running my fingers through his hair pulling his head back so gently.
His hard length made my body shudder and my heart skip a beat.breathing deep licking his tongue the earth moved in my head.
Hands held down hip pounding deep thrusting gyrating movements,made me beg for more.biting his neck like a vampire needing to fed.
Sliding down his body landing between his legs looking up him.licking his ***** like a lollypop looking up at him.
His moans cut through the night air I could feel his fingers in my hair.he beg me to keep going and not to stop.
He said your my vampire looking to be fed tonight .his hot *** teasted better than honey or chocolate.
He lay back staring up the celling saying nothing unable to speak.looking at his face I saw only a wicked smile.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
Thursday..another diary entry.
I did not choose this,
I want to lose this but it seems like I'm stuck and I don't give a, doesn't life **** like a tooty fruit lollypop, and how do you stop when you've started?
I want to begin on the bottle of gin,but it's empty,still tempts me,with a bottle of grappa,could start again as a rapper and not have a crap day like today.
If you work like a horse all they'll feed you is hay and there's no one to say take a break,have a smoke,this life is a joke,
but I'm a big bloke,take it all on the chin,still want to begin
on the gin.
I can't win.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
Worn… the scenes are vivid
Of angry protests,
Scowling faces,
And the sharp knife that rips the flesh.
The **** of hate that wounds our nation
Clear stares me in the eyes.
There’s no mistaking the gun he’s wielding,
As in another hi-jacking a mother dies.
Removed… the vivid scenes are vague,
The protests are joyful dances,
Smiles on every side
And the knife a lollypop shared between lovers.
Our nation healed and united
Flows free before my eyes.
There’s no mistaking the flag he’s waving
As proud above one nation it flies.
This view may be dim and the edges… a slight blur,
But this is how I prefer to view our nation…
…without my glasses.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
she moves her mouth
wet lip chatter and eating
it makes me think
of her pinkish ****** lips
and her tender tawny ******
like a lollypop
a surprise tootsie roll center
with a urethral delicate opening
the **** eye
her pipsqueak fig staring myopically
a dark vulnerable miasma
it is the shape of gods 3rd eye
a material correspondence
to the heavens
not the sky that whistles through canyons
but the astral worlds of angelics'
a thanksgiving feast
of rebuked back door paradise
a glistening hemic muscle
vomiting stormy air
for my throbbing nightingale protuberance.
as it swells imperious *****
and raptures tight waving spasm's
from long smooth canoe strokes
squirting succotash and tadpoles
into her velvet
banana booth
chapel of ****
and greedy ache
smothers gloriously
this melodic snake
in her one eyed doll head
she smiles
i need it in the ***
and i asked
as it winked a drivel
dark floret
do you love me?
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 12:15 PM UTC
Shirley girl it’s been a thrill
Let me introduce you to Bill
He has a dog called Jet
He’s a solid bet
You’re dumping me after an hour
One hour
Sixty minutes of bliss
How you reminisced
Your ex Ted
Shot himself in the head
Mother Jill
Lying at the bottom of the hill
Father John
Somewhere in the Amazon
Grandad Cain
Threw himself under a train
Granny Flo
Where did she go
Not forgetting brother Fred
Lost, presumed dead
Then you mention your lesbian lover Di
Who right away I’m thinking
How did she die
Not realising, you must be Bi
Then just as I’m getting my head round that
You mention the cat
Is there a dog
What about the fog
Oh, that’s what caused the bus to disappear into the bog
You saved the lollypop man Jack
Well, that’s a blessing
What
Died next day, heart attack
Shirley doll
Don’t think of me as a bit of a moaner
But Jesus girl
You're a ****** Jonah.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
Shirley girl it’s been a thrill
Let me introduce you to Bill
He has a dog called Jet
He’s a solid bet
You’re dumping me after an hour
One hour
Sixty minutes of bliss
How you reminisced
Your ex Ted
Shot himself in the head
Mother Jill
Lying at the bottom of the hill
Father John
Somewhere in the Amazon
Grandad Cain
Threw himself under a train
Granny Flo
Where did she go
Not forgetting brother Fred
Lost, presumed dead
Then you mention your lesbian lover Di
Who right away I’m thinking
How did she die
Not realising, you must be Bi
Then just as I’m getting my head round that
You mention the cat
Is there a dog
What about the fog
Oh, that’s what caused the bus to disappear into the bog
You saved the lollypop man Jack
Well, that’s a blessing
What
Died next day, heart attack
Shirley doll
Don’t think of me as a bit of a moaner
But Jesus girl
You're a ****** Jonah.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
We don’t belong here
Among people who see
Only red in the kaleidoscope.
People who will burn down the candy store
To keep a foreigner’s kid
From maybe getting a lollypop.
People whose good will
Ends at the top of
A concealed leather holster.
We don’t belong here
In a place where the scenery
Goes off limits 97 days a year.
A place where the wind
Is often angrier than me
And covers things with talcum powder dust.
A place where no humidity
Parches eyes and nose and mouth
And water gives you kidney stones.
A place where those with shrunken purses
Huddle down in freon igloos
Longing for the place they left.
We don’t belong here
The shadows of our spirits do not match
We sing our songs in foreign keys.
We hide the face of who we are
And wear the mask of fitting in
No, we really don’t belong here
But here we stay because
There is no other place to go.
ljm
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 6:56 AM UTC
*I'm the little boy watching John Wayne movies
working on a Charms lollypop
I'm the five year old playing "Vietnam" with
a stick running along a creek in the back yard
I'm Neil Armstrong , Jimi Hendrix and Charles Manson
The Smothers Brothers , Dark Shadows and Captain Kangaroo
The iconic smiling face , the peace sign and the Farrah Fawcett t-shirt
Watergate , the Flintstones and Mr Ed
I'm Skylab , the men on the moon and 911
I'm Obama , Carter , Nixon and Reagan
I'm a pipe wrench working on the American Dream
A water **** passed among friends
A gung-ho service member
A fifty year old mess
A Mad magazine , an ever changing book explaining taxes ,
disability and the future loss of medical insurance
I'm better left alone most days , eyes locked forward at twenty feet tending to problems such as tall grass , ***** windows , tarnished brass
A mailbox in need of paint , fire ant mounds , dead leaves scattered along the ground* ...
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
We are young
comparing to the secret beauties the earth hides
Like toddlers looking for a lollypop
******* every little moment
as a memento for our existence
Trying at any price
to live a mark, a smear, a scratch
Killing, destroying, abolishing, extinguishing
Where did we go wrong?
People, I don’t want to play along anymore!
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
I started my day with a lollypop.
at first it was bitter,lime flavor,
with some sour aftertaste,
until i reached the sweet cherry center.
Unlikable until the very end.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
The day rides off like some cowboy akin or a kin to Tom Mix,
sidesaddle,
I'm left paddling a canoe through the night breaking into the stars and making cocktails from comets,
if everything comes to him that would wait how long will it be, how long in this state?
The long shadow of eternity swallows me and yet I don't see the colours of a Universe only the ends of the string.
What light flashes before me in the eyes which do not see? not the past light of a fast life, not the soft light of a muted life, someone
turned the volume down and the 3D World turned blue to follow me,
was it you?
Under the skin where the habitual twitch starts to itch and the Demon wants in
I pretend that I'm out.
The praire though miles filled with empty and half strewn with cacti gets by on a lick,
I read the joke on the lollypop stick and my tongue swells.
I always thought Bow bells were bowed but they're not and that's what a lifetime of searching has got me,
not very much when it all comes to this, a tap on the keyboard, a peck on the cheek, see ya tomorrow or see ya next week and what I really need is that moment where bliss melts the curtains and the peck on the cheek becomes the kiss that would last for a week.
How long in this state?
I lay in wait
and wait.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
Oh happy Sunday hour
after five and before the tea-time tide
when those who filled the beach
with grubby toddlers, toys and spades
return to roasting hotbox cars
and stow the cool-bag in the boot,
along with salty dogs who want to sleep
creeping under blankets kept especially for them,
farewell they wave,
with lollypop sticky, sun-touched infant hands
a tired last goodbye to the sand
that battlefield land of dug-outs holes and hollows
a ruined castle landscape
that the sea will fix tomorrow
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 10:02 AM UTC
please dont lie
i make you see and taste and hear mud
i stain your plum-perfect existence
i of knees and elbows
not suited for your world
in your i’s break porcelain
laugh too hard
and smile too loud
i spirited lollypop
on your dry stuck-up tongue
you cough me up
i sunrays on sundays
and fiestas on mondays
and wildfire through my tributaries
i spicy thick warm wine
dancing and shouting
expanding
you?
you sick pallor
you suffocate in your bitter skin
you winter without christmas
thirsty turkey with no gravy
i stain you mustard
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC