"masterbater" poems
1. Had you a viral video,
you’d watch it
more than once.
2. Instagram hearts
make you smile,
even from strangers.
3. Which would
you rather:
***
or
Zuckerberg
friending you
on Facebook.
No, this isn’t a Cosmo quiz —
it’s a social experiment.
Because no one ACTUALLY
answers these questions honestly
without looking like
that ****** at the pool
trying to get as MANY
high fives as possible.
Yet, we all do it.
Alone or in public.
Day or night.
LED screen spice up our lives.
It was probably
best embodied
by that girl taking
selfie
after
selfie
after
selfie
after
selfie,
filmed for minutes
on the way to school,
the video soon posted,
by her dad
trying to teach her a lesson?
Or trying to get attention?
Either way, he might as
well have hashtagged it
#socialsuicide.
Like most humor
we laughed at her
because we are her.
We see a dripping
characterture
************ to
itself in public.
Wait, it,
sounds wrong
when you name it.
But there is
a name for it:
Digital ************
aka
Self-adoration
aka
Narcississism.
You won’t agree
that you do it too.
But I’ll bet
most of you
get excited
thinking about
notifications too.
Why is that?
You’d never admit it.
You can say
I smelt it, so I dealt it.
Call me a preacher,
a hater, or a hypocrit.
But I'd rather you call me a
digital masterbater too.
And then remember the last
time you opened Instagram
or Facebook
or Twitter
and took a selfie
or hashtagged something
or posted a status
that your still breathing.
How long has it been —
a minute, an hour, a day?
Now try making fun of her.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
In a land of 93 people
lived a preacher and a nun
In a church without a steeple
they professed to 91
The sermon was quite boring
so seven found the door
They left amidst the snoring
leaving only 84
The nun looked to the altar
and the scary hanging Jew
Twice 11 faltered
and that left 62
But the preacher kept on talking
and he didn't skip a line
Then 13 more were walking
leaving only 49
The nun began to worry
as she saw the empty pews
They were leaving in a hurry
by sixes, fours, and twos
A dozen minutes later
they were in the church alone
The ****** masterbater
and his faithful penguin drone
"So what are we supposed to do?"
the preacher asked the nun
They started out with 92
(or was it 91?)
To be honest it was 93
including priest and nun
You'd think that I would know this
as I wrote it in line 1
But the time is getting very late
perhaps I now can sleep
These lines are not so very great
and not so very deep
But they served my shallow purpose
as my eyes begin to close
And since nothing rhymes with purpose
I believe it's time to go
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
habbits don't all show through daily
Like a nail biter
Or the drug addict fighter
Unlike the masterbater
Some are shown over time
Like mine
all the betrayals
All the heartbreaks
All the times I sent a (:
When I knew.. It would lead her on
Or all the times
Hopes were built up
When they should have never been
Or thinkin more of me and I
Than of her and they
My habit is to be me
Which is awful as any person can be
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Better then what your feeling,
I bet I could give you that feeling,
If your ready for a bit of orgasmatic ****** attention,
Down south,
Nobody ever touches it but me and you,
Sliding in and out with my fingers,
Just to make you shout,
You call me a ***** boy,
When I make you moan in greatness,
Watch me own your body like a king and his apprentice,
When I lick you everywhere,
Don't you be complain later,
The sparks are flying in the air,
Watch you be the masterbater,
I wanna lick the ***** and the pinks parts all inside,
And I won't hesitate and all jokes aside.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC