"mits" poems
no slavering kisses
like a dog on heat
no schoolboy fumble
wanting you to beat his meat.
no ***** in the dark
or a letch to grab your ****
no rancid breath,nor sweaty skin
to grasp you in his mits.
just you and your fingers
and your own ***** vices
pure ecstacy of loving yourself
with your battery op devices.
it is all in the touch
the rhythm of your wrist
the way your body squirms
giving a wriggle to your hips.
a gasp n moan
************ brings you pleasure
frustrated tensions fade away
as you fiddle at your leisure.
reaching your crescendo
a throb a pant a sigh
eyes slightly misted
youre at your dizzying high.
copyright gothicmistress 2010
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 6:02 AM UTC
Revolution is knocking at the garden gate
With pitchforks and spoons to guard against fate
The people drench me with milk and holy water
And stare at me as if I slept with their daughter
I stand in white suit and a red tie
I look like a half decent guy
My hairs slicked back and my tongue coated in honey
And I smell like old bars and good money
With a tattered old suitcase in hand
I try to get you to understand
You don't have to sell your soul
That isn't my goal
Just buy some new high quality oven mits
and don't throw a fit
Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 7:13 PM UTC
hip bones under hips, hips to lips, lisping lips, sheer lace slips, butterfly clips,
heated hips to heated hips
bruised hips under bleeding lips, the pink slip, slow dance dips, managing on meager tips, frisky nips,
tired hip to tired hip
sad lips under comatose lips, archaic fingertips, tightening grips, worn baking mits, lips to head/soul to stars
cadaveric hips to a bleeding heart
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
fingertips
against my lips
hands on hips
on my back
marks from your steady hands
feel like whips
you hit me because you think i deserve it
blood on carpets and first aid kits
you touching my skin feels like touching a pan without oven mits
cold arms and legs
cold nose
cold wrists
frost bite kiss
listening to music at 4:01
thinkng of your texts
jealousy
fits of rage
do you ever just let go
no reason
to
live
shallow breaths
whats happening
am i dreaming
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 5:13 AM UTC
I know where I am.
Yet I am no where to find.
I know where I stand.
Yet I don't see a light.
In the mits of the dark, I expect non.
But here in the sun, light does belong.
And so I go, and leave my stand,
to see if the light, is somewhere to find.
And as I mark my steps, into the sand,
and leave my trace, for another friend,
I can see the light so bright,
somehwhere up there,
behind the night.
Jul 26, 2023
Jul 26, 2023 at 12:38 PM UTC
i know where i am
yet i am no where to find
i know where i stand
yet i don't see a light
in the mits of the dark
i expect non
but here in the sun
light does belong
and so i go
and leave my stand
to see if the light
is somewhere to find
and as i mark my steps
into the sand
and leave my trace
for another friend
i can see the light so bright
somewhere up there
behind the night
Jul 26, 2023
Jul 26, 2023 at 1:37 PM UTC
Well you don't know where I'm goin',
but I sure do know what lays before me.
The path is familiar like a friendly touch,
the buildings that sleep there are warm,
and there is no way of knowing who resides there now.
Maybe the faces of the past, or maybe not,
either way it doesnt matter all that much,
because somehow they got to be like me in more ways,
then I could care to share with anyone of these hazy days.
So don't pay me no nevermind as I travel foreward, and down,
down to the path I know like my lover's skin,
as I look for a dusty ol' inn with some stars as faded as the sign,
in the Town of Regret.
The place, you may know it well,
the name however may escape you like a snake,
does a deep ol' well full of stale water.
The neighbors, they all like to tell tales,
none of them fake, none of them real,
but the one about a guy named Zimmerman,
well that one you could buy with a penny, its so swell.
Now dont forget the old man at the butcher store.
If you bargain, he will give you any meat,
some say its because he lost his shoes,
others say his feet, in the war the world lost.
Though you get that without costs,
the cook, with her twelve children,
well she dont chop cheap,
shes got all them kids with mouths,
and they dont have brooms to sweep.
So after this, the name might be comin' back in now,
just look in the eyes of the sunset,
and remember those nights so ghostly,
that you spent in this,
the Town of Regret.
The windows are all broken,
and the kids have no mits or bats,
so there is nobody that knows who caused the glass to shatter.
The ol' man sitting at the train station has been there since I was born,
and on his collar he has worn,
the same flower of blue that his love gave him.
The gamblers they played it all,
even the names their parents gave them so long ago.
Seems like now they have no hands left to go,
and only a small smile to spread under their glasses.
On late nights, you can find me sitting on a porch,
usually its one by the hill, where the wind passes me,
just like the fingers of my love once did.
But after so many fights, I lost her to the foggy sea,
and theres a kid with his feet hanging off the roof,
he sings to me songs of a sweet child with a warm heart,
the one that was like me before my path was set,
the one that didnt have a hike here,
here in the Town of Regret.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 3:46 PM UTC
Ah,
sweet summer
the smell of beer, margaritas, and that fresh EL air.
Baseball mits and
half-off deals at our favorite Wednesday joints.
But I'm not there.
You won't be either.
None of us will.
Detroit is my new home, Flint is your old.
Places like Ferndale and who knows where is the new Summer destination in your guys' hearts.
I miss home.
I really really do.
New adventures await,
but can we pretend they don't?
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
Her sky covers the tall monuments of man , she holds secrets that we are to afraid to tell , she speaks of stories of days when gold was pulled from her roots.
Her name , her place all in the mits of beauty , she is a world class city whos streets are still yet to be touched by my feet.
I've seen her at sun rise and at sun set when the fires of the people blaze in uproar as they beg for more.
She is my home , she is home to thousands.
But she cries , she cries at 3am when the blood of a father is spilt for the paper in the leather bound casing , she breaks when mothers abandon their mistakes on her rail roads , she screams when the young and innocent venture to her deep dark parts in search to ruin their lives for fun , she feels the pain of the women and children who are fouled by men with no soul. I see her beauty in the torture as I drive through her heart and I break knowing her words are unspoken she has been violated , she feel cursed , she is our home but we have broken our walls.
She waits for the day her people see her pain and change for her happiness and I wait for the day the sun shines and I know my home is safe.
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
This metal poll is sapping my body heat.
Exposed calves.
Aching feet.
**** IT JOHNNY GO LONG"
Sounds of baseballs hitting leather mits,
Pierces the cold night air.
Grass peaks through pavement,
Haphazardly placed squares
I don't really know what I'm doing here,
But what I do know...
Is I'm cold.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC
An eager ant treks on six bruised ankles.
A duty bound martyr of the hive peoples.
A cog amongst many identical shadows
cast in perpetual motion.
An alien midst twins with similar mits.
An Ant Who Forgot To Complete His Task.
An Angel Who Found And Broke His Mask.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
Can't explain that pain, must I share it..
For it must be that moment where you must capture it and strangle it with your dominant mits,
They devour your sane thoughts with constant dissolution of evil wits,
Come up from the hell that was put upon your shoulders,
For you are powerful enough to explode through this hell like one massive rocky Boulder!
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 9:53 PM UTC
Can't explain that pain, must I share it..
For it must be that moment where you must capture it and strangle it with your dominant mits,
They devour your sane thoughts with constant dissolution of evil wits,
Come up from the hell that was put upon your shoulders,
For you are powerful enough to explode through this hell like one massive rocky Boulder!
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC