"membership" poems
Blonde hair, tight tanned body
Not usually my type but
You stir something in me down there.
You smile shyly,
Girl, you are going to get us into more trouble.
You don't seem to need much coaxing.
Down slides the red cocktail dress,
Your toned body freed.
Black lace ******* shielding heaven.
Soft lips on mine, feels so good
Supple ******* in the palm of my hand,
Pinching ***** ******* a specialty of mine.
Feeling you tremble underneath me
Floods my cup,
I cannot wait to taste you.
I feel your fingers slide
between my thighs,
As our tongues do ballet.
Going to gain our membership
to the sisterhood now.
Wet knuckle status.
We are top to toe,
Better access.
I am starving for you.
It wont take us long to reach Nirvana,
I get it now,
I would have burnt my bra if I ever wore one.
Your ****** and my mouth are a perfect match
I do not usually swing this way
but am honored to dip my toe in your pool.
Crying out you pull away.
That's not how I work,
You will leave complete or not at all
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
Ugh
Its that ***** goes walks
In see that she can't knock
Well no prob
I'll just smoke and get backed
you were always fake
For gods sake
For once don't be a sly snake
Slithring with a knife about to stab me
You like watching me be in pain
So , don't hate on me
Because it ain't free
Since when can a ***** be her with out me
Yes I blow o's and always French inhale
And ghost inhale
Now you can't see me
Catch me if you can
I'll Mr waiting in my van
I put in imna box so I don't need an Xbox
Hope u give me a membership
Or I'll brake u into 500 Lil *******
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
Hour by hour
She checks her Insta
Posts a new picture
With a Snapchat filter
If it doesn't receive any compliments
It's not good enough
Every morsel is captured
For her followers
Praised by the likes
And screenshots
Wouldn't be seen dead
Without her makeup
Clothing
It's got to be designer
Membership at the gym
To show off her trainers
Trails through pages
Like a maniac
Can't help but compare
And want what she's got
Her house is big
Her boyfriend is handsome
Her friends are cool
Her family supportive
She needs a new car
The latest Apple product
A holiday
To an exotic location
The trolls are cruel
She can't be seen with you
Her lips too thin
Her nose too big
Searching for surgeries to fix the double chin
Without the screen
Her life is meaningless
She's addicted to social media
Depressed and anxious
Jealous and bitter
She's too deep under water
To see you trying to save her
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 6:44 AM UTC
Hidden, oh hidden
in the high fog
the house we live in,
beneath the magnetic rock,
rain-, rainbow-ridden,
where blood-black
bromelias, lichens,
owls, and the lint
of the waterfalls cling,
familiar, unbidden.
In a dim age
of water
the brook sings loud
from a rib cage
of giant fern; vapor
climbs up the thick growth
effortlessly, turns back,
holding them both,
house and rock,
in a private cloud.
At night, on the roof,
blind drops crawl
and the ordinary brown
owl gives us proof
he can count:
five times--always five--
he stamps and takes off
after the fat frogs that,
shrilling for love,
clamber and mount.
House, open house
to the white dew
and the milk-white sunrise
kind to the eyes,
to membership
of silver fish, mouse,
bookworms,
big moths; with a wall
for the mildew's
ignorant map;
darkened and tarnished
by the warm touch
of the warm breath,
maculate, cherished;
rejoice! For a later
era will differ.
(O difference that kills
or intimidates, much
of all our small shadowy
life!) Without water
the great rock will stare
unmagnetized, bare,
no longer wearing
rainbows or rain,
the forgiving air
and the high fog gone;
the owls will move on
and the several
waterfalls shrivel
in the steady sun.
3.2k
Your smile dawned on me
As the moon rose and you walked out
Into the night to sing . . .
. . . And then return later
With the glow of music on your cheeks
To sit and talk sharing your day
Between slices of Jarlsberg
Grateful beyond words
That this could be so
I kept bringing you to me
To confirm that you were really you
Buoyant with Vivaldi you climb
The steep stairs to your attic room
And there sitting on the bed
Take this carved wooden box
In your hands and with joy open to me
your childhood your adolescence
your young womanhood bookmarked
With precious paper tokens
Cards letters drawings
certificates of membership
Ephemera of memories
Every piece a jigsaw of your early years
I see you twelve fourteen twenty
A dear girl bright eyed so alert to life
Gathering its mysteries to herself in
Trophies of love and experience
Still and more so
and more so still
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
Muffin milks the tiny teet
of a tête-à-tête torn
apart by warring factions.
slowly spitting the purple plum
dribbling, oozing
over the convex lips
which kissed and kissed.
Cream juices the cocky caucuses
of cordial cacophony.
Moist middlers meddle amidst
businesses of their own interest.
Power is power better bear than
bottom but everyone is ******
Lap the ego from the firehose,
the giant member of the state
spraying like a cat claiming "mine!"
Hellbound, hell no he'll save us
everything is going to ****
One man job to make us come
out of the 17th hole sand pit
of our pernicious premier club membership.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
Sometime this spring, when all
the cobwebs have been dusted,
and all the cold and dampness
has gone away, I'll sit on my
front porch and watch the lazy
clouds go by.
Sometime this spring, when there
are no more dreary days, 0r long
and silent lingering nights,
I'll sweep my front porch and
sit so grand in my rocking chair
and stare and howl at the
sumptuous moon.
Sometime this spring, I'll hold
my child in my loving arms,
and will stroke her hair and whisper
to her about all the adventures to come,
and dream and fill her head and heart
with all the joy that nature brings.
Sometime this spring.
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Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 1:06 AM UTC
my name's on the gold card she said
membership went straight to her head
told her **** off
turned into a cough
smiled, said thank you instead
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
I have never allowed myself to abide
by the unfortunate misgivings of
censors and their hollow minds.
I love to abusively use the word ****
and every time I see you with your kids,
I light one up.
Blow smoke in their ****** faces,
then I'll tell your innocent little ********
about the last time I was completely wasted.
See I'm morally opposed to all forms of censorship.
That's why I drive drunk, three stogs in my mouth
and I answer honest when your wee kiddies question it.
"Sir, what's the white powder you have upon your face?"
"That? Oh no worries my little brother
that's just a bit of *******
At some point, I think I lost societal membership
all due to my personal policy.
Simply, **** censorship.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
If I listened to every advertisement
hollering through the static
of my cable-hooked television,
I'd have a mammoth bottle
of Hidden Valley Ranch
sitting with the ego-quenching sheen
of recommendation in my fridge,
a Weight Watchers membership
(it told me to join as soon as possible
with the speed of a steroid-devouring treadmill),
Children's Tylenol
(despite being situationally barren),
and a Bowflex-shaped elephant,
ivory tusks slumping uselessly in the corner.
My living room would be the fraternal twin
of the American Smithsonian,
a faux-genuine quilt
of our Founding Fathers'
present day descendants
draping over my popcorn ceiling.
I return to the latest
sacred cow in the flea store
cartel of Lifetime Movie heroines;
it's "Vengeful Vixens Sunday"
and Elizabeth Berkley shooting men
and stabbing women in the back
all while eating buckets of Ben and Jerry
and getting addicted to crystal ****
The dialogue is as freshly
packaged and slovenly edible
as the Minute Ready Late Night Dinner
with a cartoon grandma plastered on the logo,
all to remind you of down home,
or in the case of this Lifetime screenplay,
a time when the brain wasn't fully developed.
Same difference.
We all hide our guilty pleasures
as if our tolerance for the
secondhand existence of these favorites
were deemed malignant
by a cardboard kingdom
of young adult sophistication,
but I ask you:
who hasn't slipped into the comfort
of a mind turned to mush?
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:55 AM UTC
You call me alarmist
Because I say what I have heard.
You call me socialist
As if it were a ***** word.
You call me communist
Like this is nineteen fifty two.
You make an epithet
Of anyone who contradicts you.
You call me coward
Because I hate war so much.
You call people ******
If men should hug or touch.
You call people terrorists
If they don't worship your way.
You seem to hate the poor
Wish they would just go away.
You have a list of names
You use instead of using specifics.
You have a list of behaviors
You consider to be extra terrific
Like making fun of races
And calling starving people losers.
Make laws against cannabis
While you are a bunch of boozers.
You use Christianity
Like membership in the Rotary.
Won't take your credentials
To be verified by a legal notary.
You hide your profits
And brag about your successes
And become homicidal
If you get anything but yesses.
It's a sick world you sell
With your hate filled speeches.
Surely this is not what
Your spiritual leader teaches.
There is so much disdain
And even evil in what you do.
Let us all hope and pray
Our kids don't turn out like you.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
Since the very beginning of joining the *ELEPHANTS TUSK CLUB". He wondered whether others might make fun of him, and sure enough, every time he put on his Hide Coat and his Tusk crown, joviality seemed to pour out from the walls. "HARTY-HAR,,,HARTY-HAR, laughter and mirth he heard from near and far. But, that didn't deter him from his Delight in being a Member in the ELEPHANT -TUSK club. Just about everybody desired the benefits the Club membership provided. Here listed are some most asked about: TWO years Free cleaning for your Hide coat, Two years free shining of your Tusk crown, Two years of *Bellowing training at the unheard Price of only 10.00 per class, based on attending 9 classes a month, instead of the standard price of 25.00 per Class of *Bellowing training, Two years of Free Circus tickets, for those events not occurring in your home town, Two years of Hauling feed and hay training for the low,,low price of 25.00 per class, for 4 classes, *YOU would not believe the waiting list for Membership in the *ELEPHANT TUSK CLUB ! ! Filled with folks from "ALL" walks of life. "SIGN UP NOW" and receive THREE (3) grades of memory chips,,#1= everything for last 40 years, #2= the last 20 years, #3=- last 10 years ! AND, that means memories of everything, FULL descriptions played over and over until you "Click-Off". ALSO,,includes Memory of Elephant, Trainer, Tusk Remover. Each time you click on- the memories will be played over and OVER AND OVER ! ! The fee "AT MANAGEMENT- IS ONLY 5.00each replay. " W O W " ,,,,Y O U, yes YOU, will Not forget anything ! THAT IS WHY YOU WANTED TO JOIN THE CLUB, ISN'T IT ? ?
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 12:00 PM UTC
Straight lines bound the edges,
while it became necessary to spend
the anchor of time lost in the twisting
patterns slowly darkening to supply
the molecules which provided scenery.
The character was divided
between a wolf and the hiker towering
at the pinnacle of the hill to gaze above
the head of the beast across to the vista
of the trail. Roses bloomed, and the ink
was done, to dry while color trickled
in a world comprised through streams
of shivering light reflected from
the mountain, a flower raised by
the frivolous event of cataclysmic times;
the hatchet carved its cliffs to make
a face of empty granite and the soul of
the rock. The delay created a great offer,
considered by erosion, but the hesitation
defied the smoothing influence of climates
and their ages. The rise killed the
enthusiasms of the hiking spirit,
reconstituting the problem, and
the messenger of hilarity was never less
welcome than when enthusiastic about the
confusion of lost victims. Always a few
of these were
in the scenes along the shimmering trails
with their names that changed at inconvenient
turning points until travelers were anxious
to go through the door into the chalet with its
green carpet of moss. The discount welcomed
them, inside, yet there was no great pile
of money and nothing was purchased. Instead,
after the warmth set in, showing determination,
the man with the pack returned to life on
the wild edge of the land. After a command to
the sharp creature that had been pacified by the
impressive displays of civilization, the walker
began to trek, and the wandering dog felt self
respect, the beginning of membership. So, they
belonged to the range, and the traders had plans
to provision them by means of a system of values
arrived to demonstrate available necessities and
equities conceived in the course of bargaining.
This general aspiration was accompanied by the
taciturn response thought to be more pleasant
than the argument and ill will. Prosperity had
been created by serving fate and nature rather
than by transferring property to a singular pit.
The result was an expectation of good deals and
reliable assistance.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
i call my ambition, sergeant giggs... don't ask; i also call my left foot lady cantona, it's just regarding the manchester united dream team from the mid 90s.
oi! oi! that strange perfume in my garden
has come back!
i don't like it! i know i'm growing garlic
and rosemary & mint & jasmine in it,
but i'm not liking the eerie honey ****
of it, that i might liken to female genitals,
no!
**** off!
get these gnats away from me!
feed em to the bankers!
point being, if i were ever an islamic
martyr, and i'd get to the "sacred" gardens,
much akin to the hanging gardens of babylon
and i'd be like...
wait a minute, i didn't ask for solomon's
gym routine, i didn't ask for *******
gym membership scheme!
i said, i said that i wanted 72 watermelons!
who said that 72 virgins is a reward?
where are my 72 watermelons?!
i want my ******* 72 watermelons!
1 woman is enough! enough as in:
one too much!
yes, i know nature it cruel, and it proved
that by providing more women than men,
and that when an ****** hits their egos
and shatters them all hell breaks loose...
no! i didn't sign up for a gym membership!
i want my 72 watermelons!
take your virgins and shove them
into fairy-airy stories, or up my ***
how could 72 virgins ever be so appealing
as to take the lives of others?
i asked for heaven, not a gym membership...
idiots are going to be hating the notion
after a few hours:
well... gotta **** 'em all...
otherwise the ones not ****** will go straight
to king solomon, with his permanent
****** **** fusion...
just give me the 72 watermelons and ****
off with your "promises"...
i wasn't promised **** all upon
birth in this world,
but the promises of 72 virgins in the "next" world
seems more like a curse, than honey-dew;
i'd rather worm through
a library of books worth-the-reading,
than a bunch of girls: "worth-the-fuck";
well yeah, "the" oops;
muslims: monkey mentality, even after death;
me? i was imagining it as:
a brain in a pickle jar;
then again, i'd love to chat with 72 prostitutes,
gone down the train ride of waggle waggle...
plus the drinking helps...
less gym orientation mind you:
the already exhausted ***** 'elp a 'ittle.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
Can we talk?
I'm new to town
and I'm certain that you and I
have not yet met.
Are you a stranger too?
It's rather soon to say
but I caught a beacon in your eyes
(or maybe hoped I did) -
wanting down those
Frosted walls of unfamiliarity.
Who knows what tales
we soon may say
of overlapping circles
of shared community -
of parallel victory and loss.
It's so soon to say,
but for now, accept this hand
as a token of mutual membership
in Pangaea's beneficent sanctuary.
Can we talk?
© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
parched tongue
please
mister
cola
carmex
these cracked lips
it's time
to hydrate
this carbo
bi-
sickling
through vacant streets
for a cure
my tummy
is like this town
a desiccant cactus
it's 12 a.m.
in stockton
12 amens
spew
from dry desert gums
i sea
liquor store
icee
soda
this is
no mirage
i found
atlantis
at the bottom
of a coke bottle
peddling back home
peddling
peddling
stop
I dropped
My holy grail
He stops
Is he thirsty?
He pulls knife
Like a sleeved playing card
“give me your ****
Poor minus poor
0-0
=0
Or X0
After he cheapshots me
Fist meet face
Face meet fist
obliged
Profit
10 cents
Gym membership
Fuzzy lint *****
But not my soda
Or my sweat
Or my tears
Or my blood
It’s time
To hydrate
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
A smooth jazz blast from the musical past:
The confused ethnomusicology,
The pleasantly discordant riffs and
Jingles of "Hiroshima"—
The band not the bomb site—
Whose fusion sound
Evokes an insane sextet
Granting membership, inexplicably to
Schroeder-- the Peanuts loony tune—
Hitting only the black keys of his piano,
His miniature keyboard
Sour, melodious & pure.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 5:36 AM UTC
Rhymes
And the rhyme says,
all the long haired rhyming people, must go,
so I put on a short wig,
and went in to ask why.
I'm a fine young rhymer,
please let me show.
Took off my wig,
and asked him to give me a try.
Rhymes, rhymes, everywhere rhymes,
filling up the pages,
blowing all your minds.
And the rhyme says,
anyone caught not rhyming,
will be shot on sight,
I jumped the fence and gave a yell,
hey, I know how to rhyme right.
Non rhymers won't let mother nature in,
they say not to rhyme is considered a sin.
Rhymes, rhymes, everywhere rhymes,
filling up the pages,
blowing all your minds.
Hey man mister, can you read,
my rhymes are all that you'll ever need.
Must have a paper and pen to rhyme,
watch me write as I enter my prime.
I don't need a membership card,
my rhymes will keep you on guard.
And the rhyme says,
everyone down here is welcome to stay,
but when Lucifer passed the plate,
I had no money to pay.
So I got my own pen and paper,
and made up my own little rhyme,
So I decided to sell my soul,
the Devil will make me feel fine.
Rhymes, rhymes, everywhere rhymes,
filling up the pages,
blowing all your minds.
Sorry for you, but I'm out of time,
do this, do that, cant you read the rhyme.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Love's Subscription
Oh garden of love, grant me lifetime membership,
Ignore the other subscribers as I offer my passion.
Scribe who tends to the garden hear my plea,
Add me, for here my heart wants to be.
To sing the songs of love's sweet eternity,
While basking in the flowery garden.
Scars of painful wounds healed and forgotten,
Scented roses and petunias fill my senses,
Caressing my mind and heart in peaceful solace.
I seek to dwell here for an eternity in love,
My subscription has no expiration forever slotted.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
Widow
The word itself is dreadful
It has no synonym, only a definition
It has a color, black
It has words
Grief, tears, loneliness, poverty, panic, guilt and anger
Experts abound
Describing feelings
Reciting the most recent stages of grief like a rosary
With the promise that time will heal
Only she feels ignorant, confused and incompetent
Widowhood a club that no one elects to join
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
I won't accept the end
Gently or gracefuly,
But begrudgingly,
In private anguish:
That is truth;
Unadorned,
And sure.
I've not dealt with the vanish
Of comrades in battle;
Or happened upon
A loved one
At the end of the rope.
I've felt the tug,
The smell of CO,
The hardness beneath
The Bluewater Bridge;
The bottle, blade and pill
On the frozen faces of friends,
On family:
Michael, Marlene, Jimmy, Eucheria.
The family innocents
Whisked off
In the maelstrom of bounding youth.
*But you must know your father lost a father,
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some time..*
Claudius speaks the cold hard truth,
But Claudius was childless;
Such guileless advice.
And Shakespeare's kids were playing
In the yard
As he penned his tragedy.
But,
Bury a child
And have an eternal membership
In the
****** for Life Club.*
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Keep your stamps and letters
Don't invite me to a meeting
If you keep them coming
I'll treat you to a beating
Groups all seem to want me
But the feeling's not the same
Go and find your mailing list
And please remove my name
oh....
I won't join any club that would have me as a member
I've a memory like an elephant
so, don't send me application forms
Because you know I will remember
Oh, It must be freezing down in hell
In fact it must be snowing
I came today, just to say
Hello, I must be going
Don't ask me to sign up again
Please don't be deluded
Check your list and you'll find me
In the column marked excluded
Oh
I won't join any club that would have me as a member
I've a memory like an elephant
so, don't send me application forms
Because you know I will remember
Oh, It must be freezing down in hell
In fact it must be snowing
I came today, just to say
Hello, I must be going
Save your money, save your stamps
You know just what to do
Stop calling, stop the letters
Please, I'm asking you
The only group with membership
Costs me more, due to my brothers
Is family, and even then
I think we had different mothers
oh,I won't join any club that would have me as a member
I've a memory like an elephant
so, don't send me application forms
Because you know I will remember
Oh, It must be freezing down in hell
In fact it must be snowing
I came today, just to say
Hello, I must be going
I will not join any club that would have me as a member
I'll tell you now, and then again, I'll tell you in September
The world is a much better place, if on your list my name's not showing
So here I am, with you to say...Hello, I must be going
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC