"mandy" poems
candles lit, music's right
I've got plans to ****** tonight
,
I'm in charge .. you like it .. Ok?
going to control you in a most sensual way
I've taken care to dress real nice,
I'm going to blow you .. with ****** spice
I start to undress, start to tease
I wont be happy till your on your knees
we start to kiss, silk skin caress,
your getting hot, a seduction success
as your hands start to roam.
its too late .. your not goin home
now our clothes are on the floor,
both naked .. cept for Christian Dior
I start to moan, beg and plead,
In doin so .. i increase your need
(c) mandy rigby 22.05.2014
(thought I'd have a go at ****** poetry)
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Whisky, I neglected you
For mushrooms and amphetamines.
For ket and **** and LSD,
And Mandy too, to name a few.
Needn’t I have looked so far
To be the greatest of cliches.
The drugs and raves led me astray.
For writers, scotch is more on par.
Half your bottle drank away,
Half full in my state of mind.
Every sip; sublime and kind,
Every **** a harshened spray.
Now I’m stuck, a drunken haze
Has washed and swept the ways of rhyme.
In its tide is also time,
As by the sun, the night decays.
Whisky, polished, final sip.
Like the bottle, I am dry.
So, I tried, to write not high.
This poem ***** I’m off to trip.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
I danced with the devil by the deep blue sea
he injected his venom into me
he waltzed in looking handsome and slick
I didn't know his poison would make me sick
I saw a white dove the devil turned it black
then I knew I could not turn back
the devil held me in his hand,
as my blood dripped in the sand
the devil he has many faces,
appears to people in many places
the devil he plays many games
the devil he has many names
sometimes he'll come with a smile
and your mind he will beguile
sometimes he'll come with a frown
that's when you know your going down
he'll hold your soul in the palm of his hand
as he grinds your ashes into the sand
I am the Devil remember my name,
you may know me as ... CRACK *******
(c) P Skez and Mandy Rigby 16/06/2014
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 5:46 AM UTC
Once upon a time was a girl named Candy
Sweet as a flower and loved all so much.
She was granted a wish by a fairy named Mandy
that turned into candy all that she touched.
The town was filled with the sweets of Candy
the rocks and the houses and bicycles too.
Candy would say that the world was just dandy!
parading the streets in her candy suede shoes.
But everything ends and also for Candy
when all that she touched would turn into sweets.
Realising a candy-lover's not handy
she walked alone on candy-cobbled streets.
And loneliness came like a night over Candy
crying skittles she soon went insane.
She cursed the wish she was granted by Mandy
as she crumbled and cracked like a candy cane.
For the rest of the year the children ate candy
the rocks and the houses and bicycles too.
The children would say that the world was just dandy
and the last sweet they shared was a candy suede shoe.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
Whilst you may keep me in a cage,
placate me, try to soothe my rage.
You can try to clip my wings.
But an unhappy bird, never sings.
I will trick you, into letting me out.
Of this be sure, there is no a doubt.
Off I fly, wondrous birds too see.
Spread my wings cos I am free.
Singing melodies, everywhere.
Now I'm free, I do not care.
I will find my own seed.
A caged bird must be freed.
(c)mandy rigby 24/02/2014
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
I'm grateful for my family in ink I think that I'd be insane in the brain I was a lyrical lame now I found I can spit bars with the best they pushed me to the brink beyond my limits I'm in this for life Drs Joke, Midnight Writer, Blue Star with the heart and Cashby, Natasha, Mandy Nothing could tear my poetic family apart we argue and have our issues but it's solved within so we can continue to become stronger as people and as lyricists while I split heads as the poetic mafia axe murderer I'll serve ya like a platter cut your *** like class and watch ya brains splatter all other emcees better scatter poetic blades out and slice and dice like vanilla ices career ending faster like the flash while we make a splash in poetic pools of blood it's like we opened up a dam with a creative flood
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
Wal, Thanksgivin’ do be comin’ round.
With the price of turkeys on the bound,
And coal, by gum! Thet were just found,
Is surely gettin’ cheaper.
The winds will soon begin to howl,
And winter, in its yearly growl,
Across the medders begin to prowl,
And Jack Frost gettin’ deeper.
By shucks! It seems to me,
That you I orter be
Thankful, that our Ted could see
A way to operate it.
I sez to Mandy, sure, sez I,
I’ll bet thet air patch o’ rye
Thet he’ll squash ’em by-and-by,
And he did, by cricket!
No use talkin’, he’s the man—
One of the best thet ever ran,
Fer didn’t I turn Republican
One o’ the fust?
I ‘lowed as how he’d beat the rest,
But old Si Perkins, he hemmed and guessed,
And sed as how it wuzn’t best
To meddle with the trust.
3.3k
3:8:15 - Kosher pinot noir toasts the snowflakes that the eider brings, just as the Ash bows ache; naked and starving. Hurdling through old bedroom windows, giving those reasons why pennies are wished first into window wells. Smoggy gawkers, locked into an image shaped by organic lines and gestures. The two smoker- cure their hours reconnoitering in skyrise stairwells, discussing recipes for fixing wounded hearts without the peaceful frequencies she speaks into two styrofoam cups with strings pierced through their innards. Much like the story of how two people meet within the timespan of the living.
Even the Moon Men eat space cakes to loosen their chests, from the apathetic laws that began to govern their personalized truths. Not a mug with a name on it bought after an almost very cool free-art reenactment of Pirates of the Caribbean.
Love is not a sentence I can choose not to awaken.
It's the difference between having a one night stand rather
than keeping a toothbrush at each other's places.
Even on a Saturday night, we could fasten ourselves
to one another. Even if it's only you and I, who are you to
say it's not a party.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
curtains closed, hood up,
doors barricaded,
windows ******* shut
another pipe,
another hit,
that was a mistake,
**** it
lie down, close eyes,
heart racing,
telling me lies,
need a mask, another guise
panic
panic
what was that noise?
deluded thoughts persisting,
mind twisting,
panic ever increasing,
endorphins releasing
lie down, get back up,
will this panic ever stop?
another pipe,
another hit,
that was a mistake,
**** it
(c) mandy rigby 03/13/2014
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
Ladies of the Net… A warning to male adolescents everywhere…
“Hi Honey….I just got matched with your profile”… At least that’s what I think it said.
Brilliant I thought because I’m available and life round here is, well…it’s dead
“I’m looking for an experienced guy who’s good in bed… been round the block, but not the clock…
One with plenty of experience and a huge…err…appetite…
for hooking up instead of these inexperienced boys…
They’re all excitable, probably all over too quick…
need someone with poise reserve and a twelve inch errr… Libido?… ego?
Click my pics kiddo and let’s get it on… you Stud!… Well I would!
****** hell! I’m overwhelmed but let’s not peak too soon…
There’s loads of stuff coming in as Spam that would probably make us all swoon.
So check it out…without fail, “eeeh!” They’re all there - these ladies of the net - they crop up daily -
Sheila Blige… Tanya Hide… Mandy May, Bette Sheedus, Lovinia ****
I’m not sure if these are their real names... But - Phew -
with things like this going on round here we could all get *******
She says she’s just round the corner, you know like Sompting, Steyning, LA (that must be Littlehampton)… Southwick…Little Haven Halt, Portslade.
We could meet in a lay-by and we’ll get laid… just an innocent little escapade.
It won’t be my fault if you miss this chance…
Just try it - I’ll handcuff you to the bed and lap dance.
Click on my pix, big boy, they all beckon.
Take a closer look at these sonny boy - now what do you reckon?
Well, you’d have to say they do look very alluring in the taster…
so why not just click...
to the next page… see the site… don’t waste-ya time…CLICK!
****** hell! The screen’s gone blank…
now I won’t even be able to have a ____
Knock, Knock, Knock!
"Kevin!!!?"..."Mum?" "Is that you?" "Yes Mum!… Everything’s OK!… I’m just turning out the light… G’night!"
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
We are the terraced women
piled row on row on the sagging, slipping hillsides of our
lives.
We tug reluctant children up slanting streets
the push chair wheels wedging in the ruts
breathless and bad tempered we shift the Tesco carrier bags
from hand to hand
and stop to watch the town
The hill tops creep away like children playing games
our other children shriek against the school yard rails
‘there’s Mandy’s mum, John’s mum, Dave’s mum,
Kate’s mum, Ceri’s mother, Tracey’s mummy’
we wave with hands scarred by groceries and too much
washing up
catching echoes as we pass of old wild games
after lunch, more bread and butter, tea
we dress in blue and white and pink and white checked
overalls
and do the house and scrub the porch and sweep the street
and clean all the little terraces
up and down and up and down and up and down the hill
later, before the end-of-school bell rings
all the babies are asleep
Mandy’s mum joins Ceri’s mum across the street
running to avoid the rain
and Dave’s mum and John’s mum – the others too – stop
for tea
and briefly we are wild women
girls with secrets, travellers, engineers, courtesans, and stars
of fiction, films
plotting our escape like jail birds
terraced, tescoed prisoners rising from the household dust
like heroines.
Pennyanne Windsor, from Poetry 1900-2000 One hundred poets from Wales
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 4:27 AM UTC
It's time again it's that Onomatopoeia
Is it a verse is it fire a spicy meatball mama Mia!
Mario warped in those pipes couldn't see ya
Wouldn't wanna be ya look at my sneaker
Nike do it like me I ****** what I want I do t fear ya
Taking it all like I was on my billy and Mandy grim reaper
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
a person on the metro, six stops from their destination
leafing through a brochure titled How
To Get Rich Quick -
sighing in disgust,
"I was never allowed to go on the metro
when I was young," boasts the woman
sitting beside them, an accessory of
The Scene. a prop
(voice is loud and nasally, and the person - five stops - considers moving)
quick smile, polite:
which means, go away. or, at the very least, don't talk quite
so loud
okay? okay?
a softcover Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary is under the seat, discarded,
Sharpie skidding through it (four stops) at every jolt
of the train.
this is normal, all trains are jerky sometimes, and the loud woman
expresses her concerns.
an old man, older than both people,
older than anything really - coughs.
wet coughs.
the person frowns, but quietly, so
the woman and man won't notice.
(they are well-practiced in the art of subtlety)
three stops. the woman leaves
but the smell lingers
and the dictionary, having slid back
one or two rows for effect
a flock of tourists board. kids in the seats
parents hanging tiredly to safety holds
(be still be quiet keep your hands to yourself, mandy
a little boy of six clinging to the person's jacket with
sticky warm fingers)
two stops, and the boy asks why they look so sad.
what they're reading.
they have perfected the art of silence
but little boys don't understand silence.
the mother hovers in the background
sneaking ***** looks at the person,
wax smudged smile going crooked at the edges
one stop,
the boy asks where they got their hair
(my head;
he is unimpressed)
he is kicking the lonely dictionary
providing it with company,
or maybe unaware.
they leave, and the mother hisses something at them as they pass -
clutches the boy's arm.
the dictionary has been stuck on the word spectral for three days,
and the train hums to life.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
I crashed into the room
My eyes red from the tears
My mascara heading south
My mind away with the fairies
You rolled me up
And smoked me
Like the world
Wanted you out
Cause I am just your ******
Soon there will be another girl.
You said one minute I was happy
Next minute I’m coming down
I was never really hungry
Cause I kept you on my mouth
You stayed clean for a while
Until you needed me again
Cause I was just your ******
And you stubbed me out back then.
And a few months later
You ask me how I've been
I say I've been ******* great
Although lying is a sin
No I'm not sure if
I’ll ever see you again
Cause you moved on from your legals
Yeah you moved onto 'Mandy'.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
****** it's pure rock and roll
it can burn any bridge and dig any hole
always remember to forget your name
follow the rules of the ****** game
rattle off some ****** wit
you don't need to speak
just think about it
take a spin .. ride the ****** power
reduce your speed to zero an hour
pass out face first in ya dinner
not a good look .... but it keeps ya thinner
overdose into an ashtray
do it in style .... the ****** way
(to be fair to ****** , i generally mixed it with other drugs)
(c) mandy rigby 23.7.2014
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
Overwhelmed .. by your sweet smile.
Crushed, defeated ... I like your style.
Taken once again by your guile and charm.
A dopamine rush straight in my arm.
There ya go again, givin it the patter.
I lose control .. but does it matter?
Hatin myself for being unable to resist,
I try to fight the feelin,
but your a catalyst.
wrapped once more in your desire.
tryin to fight it ... but I just get higher
rushed once again .. serotonin flood
I try to hold back .. but ya just so good
(c) mandy rigby 20/05/2014
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
3 hands
kidding hands,
an autocorrection title,
was supposed to be
kissing hands but either works
man overcome with an elixir of Sunday bed warming/charming/chilling, lukewarm "hot" coffee,
melodious love songs inducing
languorously hand-to-mouth,
five finger fore play love making
a potpourri of knuckle gnawing and gentling kisses
upon a hand borrowed from the a tablet holder,
while she reads the paper bemoaning the sorry state
of the world, the government permissions bad guys...
and weeps for the world we are leaving behind
a mood changer with 100% effectiveness
newspapers- a safe *** condiment
think I'll reheat my coffee
<•>
my hand
she cant sleep knows that I'm up at 2:08am composing.
and showed her earlier today
the kidding hands poem
just as the lights were going down, downtown on
William's Measure For Measure
so at 2:09am her hand snakes over and wrap itself
around my thumb as if she was weaning an infant from
what infants like doing, or weaning grownup old men like me from doing at 2:09am, what they should be best leaving alone,
like writing poetry or it could just be the woman
pseudo-sucking a poets thumb as a way of saying
can't sleep head buzzing and in between I love the
livening lying of living with your hands thumb in me
<•>
the facement of your hands
dr. mandy is handy with a needling drink of boo boo bo-toxin
that auto corrects the face's reflecting times drawing upon it,
our bodies facement; an effacement I suppose, or maybe a
defacement.
very little to be done to keep the hands couture covering
from revealing what devolutionary year it is for you: why I write of the facement of your hands and why I kiss them, your hands,
lovingly, hoping the natural toxins on my lips can ****** their aging,
and if they can't, then it is a great way of saying
I love you
<•>
2:53am
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 3:00 AM UTC
DONT DO DRUGS KIDS
O a sis, John cooper clarke.
Pink floyd, getting ****** in the park.
****** crack co caine.
****** messed up again.
Council estate, tmazipan,
****** taliban.
A paper cup and a ball of string,
Ive lost me phone I'll use anythin.
Trying to get hold of my man,
Thames Valley police catch me if u can.
Tried to get the monkey off my back,
fallen down and landed in the crack ..
between the pavements,
easy street,
walking round no shoes on ma feet.
Touch this and you'll get burnt.
Been 20 years and I still havent learnt.
Loosing teeth, bad legs, getting older.
Are the winters getting colder?
Global warming ... What the ****
****** ..coming in on a salad truck.
Chav pants, naff fkin trainers,
little going on ... no brainers.
Mental health, welfare state,
think your spot on, think your great.
Urban people telling how it is.
Fk me, took to much whizz.
Walking round, feeling fantastic,
look at me dancing,
pretty tragic really ...
Stupidly asked some bloke to dance,
now im in the back of an amb ulance.
A saturday casualty.
Its an average weekend for me.
Going mad, on a ******
**** you world,
No surrender.
(c) mandy rigby and p skez 2012)
(now 4 yrs clean .. can i get an Amen?)
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Does anybody know,
That the fake boyfriend that you carry around,
Is a homosexual,
I mean it's aright,
But just give me sign,
Just like a baby drooling over you,
Sat in the back of 4th period,
I hope you seen me too,
Cause I got love for you,
But you're friends with a gay dude,
Not a homophobe,
But do you really like this guy,
Not homophobic,
Do you really like this guy,
The things you do,
I'm just like a baby drooling over you.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
~*~
Rising from the earth,
like the native Comanche.
He’s really quite dandy.
Introducing...
President Chimpanzee.
So fierce and strong,
like a banshee—
but brave and cute,
Like little orphan Annie.
No, his name’s not Randy,
or Sandy, or Fannie, or Mandy—
get it right!
The name’s,
Chimpanzee.
You may find him with Andy,
eatin’ nanners in the pantry,
but no need to get antsy—
He’s not getting handy with granny!
I mean, come on—
he’s a chimpanzee!
Oh, that fuzzy man candy.
His ideas—so fancy dancy.
Building a democratic jungle of equality.
A born leader like King Ramsey!
Did you forget him already?
You know the dude...
Chimpanzee.
So, get up, America!
Stop playing with your testies.
Pull up your pantsies.
Go gather all that you can see,
and put them in a frenzy—
with definite intensity,
For the
grandly,
swanky,
vigilante,
Yankee,
of Miami.
Give us liberty.
Give us...
President Chimpanzee.
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 4:31 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Going under the ocean floor,
Short skirts,
Pretty smile,
Eye shadows,
Beautiful miss milkovich,
Stumps the earth,
But run a mile,
Float with no paddles,
Proud to call you my *****
Going under the ocean floor,
Going under the ocean floor,
Think about you 24/7,
Purple lipstick,
Blue eyes,
I could do you better babe,
You're a ****** wicken,
Rob a mini mart quick,
While leaving no evidence,
No strings no ties,
I guess I'll see you later.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
I'm going to start,
a revolution.
Mess with the government,
fk their constitution
I'm going to put them,
on minimum wage,
sit right back,
and watch them rage
Gonna drug test them,
3 times a week.
Keep them quiet,
so they don't speak
Show them how it feel's,
not to be trusted,
send the police round their house,
and watch them get busted
These are a few idea's.
I've got a load more.
Gonna go to number 10,
and knock on their door
(c) mandy rigby 06/02/2014
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
I look at you, you look at me.
I guess its ****** chemistry.
I can be all, that I can be,
when you look like that at me.
Give me eyes, come to bed.
lets just leave the rest unsaid ...
your eyes suggest, you're loving me,
I love the way you look at me.
Honest truth, so do mine,
I think our love is just divine
climbing higher with my desire,
falling straight into your fire
can taste your pleasure,
feel your pain,
lets get it on a- fkin -gain
(c) mandy rigby 17/03/2014
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC
jimmy has 3 teeth left and $17.
donnie gives $20 blow-jobs and has 9 fingers.
kim hooks 7 nights a week and pays her pimp 66.6%.
chico killed both of his parents and sewed them together.
how much does mandy spend on food?
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC