there's a rather attractive mother
breastfeeding beside me.
I only looked once
or twice.

it's a fascinating thing.
he's 3 months, she said,
and when he latched on she
threw a blanket over
his head.

he's done after a minute,
I feel that's very quick.
now she's tapping his back
her bracelet
is rattling.

I feel like the baby.
I want the breast too.
but I sip on my
coffee and coke instead:
it's got more kick,
but it won't give me
an *******.

Back at Donnie's place
this chick had shown me her ****.
Her brother was some guy we ran with.
She had just gotten her ******* pierced
and wanted to know what I thought.
She was a thick girl
with blonde hair
and big chubby ****.
Later
we were at a bar
one of our friends was the DJ
and another was the doorman
so all of us 18 year-old scumbags
were able to drink without too much hassle.
The night started the same way it always did
the first song of the night was always the same
'Symphony of Destruction' by Megadeth
our whole crew sitting in the corner booths
out of the light & in the dark.
We were the dimmer of lights
The party crashers
The woman stealers
The Black Circle.
We downed shot after shot
of this green **** they had
called 'Zombie'.
Drunk off my ***
feeling warm & fuzzy
I went outside for a smoke.
Matt W. ***** lay next to me on the concrete patio
in the back alley of the bar.
I had barely lit the cigarette
when the thick girl with
the big pierced ******* came out back.
We made ******* conversation
for about a minute
before I asked to see her **** again.
She carefully pulled them out
wincing at how sore they still were.
We started making out
and she asked me if I wanted to go somewhere.
I motioned towards the darkened alley behind us.
Matt lay on the ground
Laughing to himself and staring at the night sky
Taking long drags from his cigarette.
In the dark behind some cardboard boxes
And empty liquor crates
She kissed me hard and messy
Both of us reeking of ***** and cigarettes
That stinky combination.
“Why don’t you let those get some air?”
I asked, pointing at her massive mammaries.
“Okay, but…be gentle okay? They’re still really sore.”
“You got it darlin’.”
And out they came, hanging like gods in the sky
I was down on my knees
With my head under her skirt
Just going to town on this thick chick
Like I hadn’t eaten for weeks.
Her hands gripping my greasy hair
And pulling hard
As I got faster and faster
Licking and ******* like my life depended on it
Reaching up and squeezing those *******
As gently as I possibly could.
And then she tensed up
Her knees shaking, trembling, and finally
Buckling as she came
Still holding me by the hair
She pulled me back and out from under that little red skirt.
“Oh my god. Just give me a second.”
She asked, trying to catch her breath
And stop her legs from shaking.
I stood up and gave her a ***** flavored kiss.
“Well?” I asked.
“I’ll go down on you…..if that’s what you want…”
“Of course.”
And she got down on her knees
In that dark alley.
“Ouch.” She squeeled.
“What is it?”
“The ground’s got a bunch of rocks or some ****. ****.”
“Here…” I grabbed one of the cardboard boxes
broke it down in a matter of seconds
and laid it on the ground
at my feet.
“There ya go.”
Before she put it in her mouth
She laughed.
“You’re such a gentleman.”
“I have my moments.”
Afterwards
I walked back over to Matt on the patio
Buckling up my pants.
The lady thanked me
Said it was nice meeting me
And walked back inside to her brother and friends.
Donnie was now sitting with Matt on the curb.
“Where the **** did you go?”
I just started laughing.
It took him a second, but Donnie figured it out.
“Did you just **** that fat chick?”
“No man. I just got a *******. That’s all.”
“What the **** Danny? What are you a male ******* or something?”
I just kept laughing
“Hey ******* man. Nobody gives a ******* like a fat chick.”
Matt rolled over and spoke up,
“The man has a point Donnie.”

We were waiting at the trattoria
for our friends to arrive,
when she walked in,
Aphrodite, alive.

Her skin, olive brown,
gently kissed by the sun.
A fertility goddess if
there ever was one.

A picture of symmetry
long legs and great hips.
Neapolitan eyes
and, of course, bee stung lips.

Magnificent mammaries,
barely contained
in the briefest of dresses.
as I stared, unashamed.

There, of course, are impediments
I won't try to hide.
The ring on my finger,
my bride at my side.

Plus there's the issue
of fifty years gone.
My Romeo days
have packed up  and moved on.

Now our friends have arrived
and, chaste kisses exchanged,
We feast on our entrees
as wine glasses are drained.

As dessert time approaches
I sadly observe
she’'s not on the menu
Pumpkin Cheese cake will serve.

~
Mammaries
Light the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories
Of the way they were

Scattered pictures
Of the ***** we left behind
More bounce to the ounce
In the way they were

If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we?
Could we?
God-given vs. Store bought?
I'll take the Lord's work
Every time
~

The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku
Heard from the bathers that-
The Princess had been abducted
By the Dark Beast.
A bounty of thousand gold coins was announced
If you brought her back alive and the beast dead
And Death if you brought the beast alive and the Princess dead.

The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku
Hung their drums around their necks
And drummed their way
Through the Forest Dark

When  the Elder Brother drummed the sleep-inducing roll,
The storks that roosted in the trees
Dropped as if they were one big bunch.
He picked them up one by one
While the younger one,
Elated,
Shouted 'Pelicans!' and drummed the defeathering roll
Upon which the plumage came off
The Elder Brother drummed the roasting roll
And the birdflesh caught fire.

On the second day a leopard that looked-
More like a boulder in leopard's clothing
Lurched at the brothers.
The Elder Brother drummed the age-reversing roll
And the poor old leopard grew younger and younger
Until it became a watery foetus which-
The Drummer Brothers ate,
Dabbing crushed chillies, and sprinkling salt.

On the third day a bear of grisly proportions
Ambled, roaring, into their sight
The Younger Brother drummed an *****-enlarging roll that-
Stretched the bear's mammaries far too long-
They dragged on the ground like two pythons.
The Elder Brother drummed the light-the- candle roll
And the oily **** caught fire like wicks.

Having vanquished the two deadly beasts
The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku met,
On the fourth day of their journey,
The Dark Beast.
The Dark Beast, as it turned out,
Was no beast as such
But an Outcast once expelled
Into the heart of darkness
Who wrapped himself
In the dark of the Dawn
And became one with All the Beasts
And rumbled.

The Princess' pygmy horse was impaled
With the stake coming out of its mouth
Grossly gory, its hindlegs missing
And the blood, coagulated, hanging like icicles.
Near it was the Princess herself,
Naked, except for the gold waist chain
And the anklets.

The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku
Drummed a very ordinary roll,
Steady and throbbing.
The Dark Beast who listened to it
Was transported into his past,
His memory of listening
To the old drummers of Ikku Ukku.
Excited,
He spun on his heels and stretched out his arms
He gyrated and pirouetted-
And on reaching the peak of his frenzy
Exploded, like a watermelon
The pieces flew in all directions.
The Drummer Brothers picked them up
And licked
While the Princess, shaken out of her languor,
Rose and sauntered towards them.
Holding out her honey hands
She said, "Now I belong to both of you."

The Younger Brother came up with a plan:
The elder one would have her from the waist up
While he would have her from the waist down.
The Elder Brother approved.
Vain and coquettish,
The Princess rammed her fists into either drum
And said: "I loathe their sound- too unrefined."

On the fifth day,
The Drummer Brother  drummed a jazzed up roll
On their new drumhead
Made of the Princess' hide.

your cephalic is now distal from my axial
posterior when you used to be anterior
missing our deep talks, instead of superficial ones

your orbital region all but glances at my mammaries
tilting your mental up and away from me
ignoring my lateral buccal

I miss our manus's clenched together at the median
your pollex rubbing my digital
palmer's together

my thoracic lunges at you
trying to grip onto you using all my pericardium
my umbilical region hurts

Setting up camp
I am caught in the headlamps of some corporate tramps with the wings of the albatross stamped on their foreheads,and quickly they come at me firing their guns at me,out of the sun, I can't see them to clearly.
Nearly got me that time
I must be beware,
corporate tramps get every where and try to disrupt me,corrupt me with credits and debits,in books I have read it that these are no good but sometimes I can't see the trees for the wood and they prey on the blinded and feeble and frail,they'll bang at your brain until they make a secure sale,it seems they can't fail,
because
we are bombarded with adverts perverting our minds,adverts that sell you all kinds of mindless monstrosities,colossal calamities and we **** on the corporate mammaries until we've had our fill,
then we burp and slurp it all down.
Welcome to the **** it and see almost but not quite free franchise town,
need a gown.a duck down eiderdown,brown shoes,black shoes anyway you think you win they know you lose but buy it here,buy regurgitated,variagated beer here in the franchise town.
'come on down the price is right'
the time is now
you're going to die so spend and spend and how you please ,use your cards and we will bring you to your knees,
Jeez
it's depressionville,third turning past the bank of **** creek hill.
It makes you want to **** something,someone,the corporations go on and on,before to long they will run out of space,then ,
option one kicks in and kicks you in the face and puts you down.
Join the rest of us.
in the almost but not quite free, buy me here,have a beer,
franchise town

ink bleeding all my love out
most thugs dont just run towns
i remember what my pops told me
before i ever held pounds or the mammaries
your mind is whatever you put into it my spawn
so i only put sativa fry coldwine and this bullet
and the darkness fading fast-Satan lasts on my own
now
yet  im bound to out grow it
holy enough and banned from heaven
im the reincarnation of second tries
life to waste on avenging the rest of nine lives
seven taken out and passed around by the gods
sew me back together and try to sober me up

in big bold gothic lettering
peace in the name of the lord
words that are worth only remembering
by the pain on my back this pain that is
peace  
and being a servant of the lords
cast out of society by the mark of the serpent

I'd decide to liberate, and decriminalize my *******, but no one seemed to care.

I've always had honkin' *******, and they made a lot of people stare.

Soaked white shirts don't hide honkin' ******* on fat boys at the pool.

But my ******* don't make the headlines because they don't make layman drool.

I could have shied away from the glassy worm
attaining nirvana at the bottom of this drink.
But no, it was hard to resist
especially when the night needed fire
and dancing girls to swing the music bending
in that savage twist and turn hips pulsating
lips pouting and hips thrusting
in that primal passion for evening song.

Ten down and arabian mexican twilights
defying the tranquility of thinking
the sunset stirred the fires and the embers
glowed red with swollen passion.

I joined in the circle of wiggling
sinner pelvic girdles, raw and beautiful
uncaring of the language that radiates
with music and 80 per cent proof
of dynamite, once past the vocals.

The morning found us wrapped
against the waves constant fingers
lapping at our senses
as we woke to the sunshine of naked bodies
fumbling for protection against the bright
lights of excess libido. We wrote new memories
and mammaries that summer holiday.

Author Notes

Holiday of excess?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 15 days ago

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11574206-Tequila-and-Temptation.-by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.ByRaDdDZ­.dpuf

I wear a pair of sizzling onion rings while I eat eye glasses, I sucker
punch a punch-drunk, who's the drunkest *** amongst punchy *****
I caught a flea on chihuahua Chico's leg & put it on his tail because
dog-meat in pickle brine can be marinated with the flesh of a whale

Out on the tollroad
I see signage everywhere
Saying, “I knew you before I formed you in the womb.”
And then I knew of the concept
Before it was formed into words:
To know of one’s pain,
To be aware of pain.
I saw this drawn all over the rings
You imagined painted both our fingers.
Did you know me
Before you formed me into words?
Before I heard the words come from your mouth
I knew God, I knew gnosis, I knew the gospel
I knew bewitchment
From a grimoire, etched with hearts
And symbolology.

From there, we look for the perfect philosophy,
A biological philosophy deep latent
In the passion in the sweat on your upper arms
And leveraging all that came long before,
A generational memory
Recollected when I’m ******* on your mammaries
Realizing the good in that which
Makes my life hell
And my parents proud.

In passion, I notice the double standard,
Feeling drowned in water and this,
This is the sense of
Understanding the world
With the perfect syllabicality.
The kind where
The tokens we carry in our pockets
The ones we talk with,
Flash before love
Is ever a factor.

Too easily, do we speak about love.

How could a fetish for the perfect
Distract us enough to forget
The imperfect,
Something fear perverts far beyond utility
Something that’s far more a safer bet before
The perfect is good but not good enough
And you’ve lost your stomach to draining bottle after bowl
Seeking dopamine desperately.

You’ve been the cat in my lap
And the histamine storm
Assaulting the roof of my mouth
A reminder we can’t get too close
To the things we love,
And I’m not into you
Being so into me,
Being so bereft of the thing
Neither of us expected to happen.

The way you say you love me
Seems off balance,
Your love seems like a self-reassurance
Quietly nestled behind the greatest desire
For your worst insecurity, it is with that
I know what about yourself you love the most
It is outside the flow we promised one another
As though we’re held to the same ground
By a different gravity, said different words
That we nodded to.

It’s been said before,
I’m sorry, it was something, upon which
I thought we agreed,
There’d be no tears when we would leave.
So much wisdom is in the idiom,
“Follow your heart.”
Follow where it flows if even into the dark
If even along many streams
If even it strays, follow your sense of pain
And where it may teach you
Never to fear what you were
Meant to have
Even if it means the unfaithful
Path along the straight and narrow.

Give to me specialized, cowardly retreat treatment while I'm navigating the subtle history of what my elevated toilet seat meant in the throes of bowel movements that require knees with feet bent, housed like ***** hoes with raw beef refrigerated in a meat tent on polymorphed mammaries subjected to inflated **** rent. Chicken's tasty from Shake 'n Bake, better than creepy Cake-My-Snake. Elvis mashed American bananas into fresh peanut butter while his mammy fried plantains for a twinned-dead brother. [Mexican inter-course is what Mexicans do to each other to make Mexico bigger.] Share in my stupefying hugeness! Get what's due to you! I'm all woman! I weigh 350 pounds after strenuous dieting that doesn't work! Let's chat. My body's dazzlingly groovy like a ***** who acts in a G-rated movie. ~ Of all the girly crones, Shirley Jones speaking on curly phones in surly tones, cussed out more burly clones with pearly cones. You're up Europe to throw up & up chuck while the sunny sun's up. [I'm looking for someone who enjoys the bankruptcy experience. Have you not wondered what it would be like to give your money to me? Things, material possessions, OWN you. It's a trap-shoot I tells you!] ~ I'm sweating like Jackie Gleason over a bowl of chili. If I smoked I would smoke cigarettes with a mild menthol flavor. If I had a best friend I would take her to Wales after Scotland and spend my inheritance on the Isle of Man. If I had a car I would have flame decals on the hood so people would yell: "Hey *******! Your car's on fire!" Why they'd call me "*******" I don't know. One'd think they'd show respect for a man who's got flames shootin' out his hood. Geez! Could I *** a sample o' your blood? You look anemical. Make it a small sample, enough to smear across a slide, because, the job of making new dogs, with dog fluid, is the job of dogs.

I'll admit to the gods above
I've got a thing for mammaries
enough to ink a page
adoration of curvatures
this predilection is entrenched
even as more comeliness
spans the genders life presents
attraction known to be honest

back to the bosoms I'll acclaim
small or large are all the same
a tribute to beauty's span
focused on the chests' region
when Moon in Cancer has its way
a person trembles with resolve
to admire a gorgeous bust
integral to a personage

those delights that most conceal
beneath the fabric of decorum's press
Perhaps it's proper after all
society asks for nothing less
still a hint may be shown
there's no lovelier sight I'll say
than a cleft between hillocks
valley where the treasures wait

this sight of cleavage takes my breath
though the curves still distract
midriff with a sweeping arch
feast for eyes if not the hands
please forgive my lurid words
I'll only worship from afar
as the endowments proffer love
for the busts that fill my life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181128.

XMAS MARKS THE SPOT

I don't
(normally)
do this

you understand
but I am

staring at her
chest

in particular
where her ample *******

meet in a more than ample
cleavage.

Did not this
awesome architecture

of female flesh this
confluence of mammaries

just go
...tweet?

Yes...there
it is

for all to see
in a daring low-cut top

a robin redbreast
in her cleavage

making all who see it
...smile.

A tiny broken
robin

with an injured wing
(poor thing)

nestling between
her *******

(well it is
Christmas after all) .

She feeds it
every hour

with a tiny
dropper

as it nestles
snuggly.

'Peep...peep! '
it pipes up

every so
often.

Come Christmas
she gives it

the gift
of its

freedom

nothing but
blue skies

all day long
it returns

to its
human

as if it were
a living

Christmas card.

CHRISTMAS CARD

I don't
(normally)
do this

you understand
but I am

staring at her
chest

in particular
where her ample *******

meet in a more than ample
cleavage.

Did not this
awesome architecture

of female flesh this
confluence of mammaries

just go
...tweet?

Yes...there
it is

for all to see
in a daring low-cut top

a robin redbreast
in her cleavage

making all who see it
...smile.

A tiny broken
robin

with an injured wing
(poor thing)

nestling between
her *******

(well it is
Christmas after all) .

She feeds it
every hour

with a tiny
dropper

as it nestles
snuggly.

'Peep...peep! '
it pipes up

every so
often.

Come Christmas
she gives it

the gift
of its

freedom

nothing but
blue skies

all day long
it returns

to its
human

as if it were
a living

Christmas card,

being treated for fructose spasms
during one of the last movies on Earth
after the great Enema of 2020
when the heaters were on high
the Emergency Dock crew were called in
but his claims were all backed up
by the logic of chimes and daggers
as he went chatty and personal
diving from couch to chair
on a sponge mop broomstick
the room remained a mess
but the leaps were longer
what but imagination is boundless
so he stamped and splashed singing
through the sewers of ideology
made all my dynamos hum again
thanks to the exponential growth rate
of an adequate knowledge base
but then contemplating death
can make you crazy enough
to assassinate your biology instructor
a prized quality among the really sage
and their many colored appendages
we all know more than we let on
it's a conspiracy of noise and silence
attained through bribery and deceit
where substitutions screech and skid
where sugar cane machetes dance in the rain
and the Moon weeps with a broken heart
made me write on her blackboard 100 times
cognition is not possession
until his soul jumped out his eyeballs
with their lures and scuffles
but then it is in fact a nasty game
played by hungry cartoon caricatures
tricking children out of their candy
where every day and night is Halloween
until the euphoric chameleons
in a ****** garden of delight
of decadence infantilism and sleep
whistle through their nose hairs
beauty is tenuous who is to protect her
awaken her choirs bloom her lilacs
and cascading rainbow tresses
and panting mammaries and
oh **** me dead then where was I
the suction had his mind in a spin
with each gust of wind his forehead
began its evocative dans mort
don't try this at home kids
just kidding its OK to pantomime
ancient actors before their campfire
as you can well imagine

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon

Give to me specialized, cowardly retreat treatment while I'm navigating the subtle history of what my elevated toilet seat meant in the throes of bowel movements that require knees with feet bent, housed like ***** hoes with raw beef refrigerated in a meat tent on polymorphed mammaries subjected to inflated **** rent. Chicken's tasty from Shake 'n Bake, better than creepy Cake-My-Snake. Elvis mashed American bananas into fresh peanut butter while his mammy fried plantains for a twinned-dead brother. [Mexican ******* is what Mexicans do to each other to make Mexico bigger.] Share in my stupefying hugeness! Get what's due to you! I'm all woman! I weigh 350 pounds after strenuous dieting that doesn't work! Let's chat. My body's dazzlingly groovy like a ***** who acts in a G-rated movie. ~ Of all the girly crones, Shirley Jones speaking on curly phones in surly tones, cussed out more burly clones with pearly cones. You're up Europe to throw up & up chuck while the sunny sun's up. [I'm looking for someone who enjoys the bankruptcy experience. Have you not wondered what it would be like to give your money to me? Things, material possessions, OWN you. It's a trap-shoot I tells you!] ~ I'm sweating like Jackie Gleason over a bowl of chili. If I smoked I would smoke cigarettes with a mild menthol flavor. If I had a best friend I would take her to Wales after Scotland and spend my inheritance on the Isle of Man. If I had a car I would have flame decals on the hood so people would yell: "Hey *******! Your car's on fire!" Why they'd call me "*******" I don't know. One'd think they'd show respect for a man who's got flames shootin' out his hood. Geez! Could I *** a sample o' your blood? You look anemical. Make it a small sample, enough to smear across a slide, because, the job of making new dogs, with dog fluid, is the job of dogs.

CHRISTMAS CARD

I don't
(normally)
do this

you understand
but I am

staring at her
chest

in particular
where her ample *******

meet in a more than ample
cleavage.

Did not this
awesome architecture

of female flesh this
confluence of mammaries

just go
...tweet?

Yes...there
it is

for all to see
in a daring low-cut top

a robin redbreast
in her cleavage

making all who see it
...smile.

A tiny broken
robin

with an injured wing
(poor thing)

nestling between
her *******

(well it is
Christmas after all) .

She feeds it
every hour

with a tiny
dropper

as it nestles
snuggily.

'Peep...peep! '
it pipes up

every so
often.

Come Christmas
she gives it

the gift
of its

freedom

nothing but
blue skies

all day long
it returns

to its
human

as if it were
a living

Christmas card,