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The Good Pussy Sep 2014
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                                  mmm
                               mmmmm
                             mmmmmm  
                               mmmmm
                               mmmmm
                               mmmmm
                               mmmmm
                               mmmmm
                               mmmmm
                               mmmmm
                             mmmmmmm
                      mmmmm    mmmmm
                     mmmmm      mmmmm
                         mmm             mmm
jeffrey conyers Jun 2012
Mmmmm.
Those lips I kissed with these lips of mine.
Make this man here almost go blind.


Mmmmm.
I felt your sweet emotion planted deep within.
I'm glad we have become more than friends.

It's like the touch of a stove.
When you pull your hands back after realizing it's not cold.

Mmmmm.
Those lips.
I can close my eyes and imagine them now.
Mmmmm.
Those lips.
I can honestly describe.

From one side, of the face to the other.
I can give them to you in great details.
Mmmmm.
Those lips.

I just want to reach out and have them touch me now.
All rights reserved, By Jeffrey T. Conyers
Briano alliano performs on Jupiter

Hi dudes and dudettes
Welcome to my concert up here on Jupiter and it is time to have some fun and here is my first song for you called robbers and bandits

You see as I walk down the city streets
I see these robbers and bandits
Trying to take my money
Saying please please honey
Can I have your money
You see we are poor and
We have no place to call home at night
I said there is no need to rob me
I will give you $2 to $5 and I know that might not be enough
But I am just as hard done by as you in a way
The robbers and bandits said
To me we need your blood
And we need your money
I know you might not like that
But it is our only way
So just give us $3000 ok
If you don’t you will die
Personally I prefer to be positive
About how silly they are being
Trying to rob a Good Samaritan
Like me, you here about it on the news and you don’t think of it happening in real life
But I think it happened and I have to just sit back and say
Robbers and bandits had me again

The next song is push me to the limit
You see when I was young
I was really cool
I used to tease my dad
Who I thought was being conservative too
You see he came up to me and said
C’mon I will fight you I’ll fight you yeah I will
But he was trying to make me stand up for myself
And I thought mate I needed to put pride in myself
But I know dad didn’t mean to
As such but he pushed me to the limit oh shucks
I was just being a normal kid
Teasing my father and being rude
Dad hated what I was doing to him
He gave me medication to calm
Me down
It worked for a while but then
I completely lost it
When the drugs I was taking
Started to push me to the limit
I hated it I really did
But fighting the people that were trying to help me
Well, this wasn’t cool
So I decided to obsess about taking the meds, even if I got
Strange dillusions which I didn’t want I sat there watching
Family programs on tv
Because of the fact I have
No family of my own
It worked out ok till one day
The dollusions came and I did something bad and straight to the psych ward I went
You see the doctors were bad
And i thought they
Pushed me to the limit in an unusual way then my dad said to me just stay with your friends
And let them help you
But it was hard and I felt pretty ****, so I sang fly burgers loud and strong

The next song is I want to go to the movies
Oh I want to go to the movies
To see a movie that is cool
Like raising Arizona and beaches and ghostbusters
I felt pretty cool
Then I saw polar express and then I saw Arthur’s Christmas
And superman returns as well as goal yes that makes me feel so divine and if I don’t feel like going there I will watch movies on tv like Harry Potter da Kath and Kim code and pirates of
The carribean too
Yes they are all good movies
And yes I will enjoy them a lot
Drink a beer or a methane smoothie yeah oh yeah
These movies are great

What a song this next song is living next door to a party
You see we are trying to watch
Our shows on tv
When a great big loud speaker
Played music so loud
And the swearing, mate wasn’t quite as good we need to fix
The noise because it’s deafening and after that
The television played around
You see the computer chips
Were playing around
It is all because we all
Were living next door to a party
Listening to swearing and loud music and people swinging around and hanging up and hanging down and partying good yes we hang around outside pubs and yes we are cool but me I thought these people are in no club, and they have to be careful not to break anything, but they don’t care as they party loud and you find it hard to live next door to a party

That was a good song yes it’s groovy our next song is called mmmm donuts
Oh yeah I love my donuts
I feel like Homer Simpson
As I bring down my donuts
Yeah I love them they are nice
Mmmmm donuts mmmmmm donuts I love them I love them
Yes when I eat a donut
It melts in my mouth
I feel like a little sour ****
As I eat one down and then the other
I give the donut to my mother
What if she does the donut rap
And partied down
Up up up up and down down down
You see if you look like Homer Simpson you must say
Mmmmm donuts every single day
Mmmmm donuts every single day c’mon party the Homer Simpson way

Thank you Jupiter crowd and that was mmmmmm donuts the great song and now here is my waltzing Matilda
Once a jolly young dude
Partied from club to club
Dancing with all the girls in there
And after that we drank some taquila shots you’ll come a partying with Matilda oh yeah
I love a party really really partying I might not look it
But I am a social guy
I go to events to party down with the party dudes
Oh yeah
Then we got down to the great
Football club we watched the game and listened to the band
The music they played was cool and very very hip and the girls asked me to dance
I danced an unusual way everybody looked at me
Thinking I was a tad crazy
But I didn’t care because I am a party dude you’ll come a partying in the football club with me

Thank you dudes and dudettes and now here is a great song called this is *******
Ahh this is *******
Really really *******
The crap you are trying to tell me is driving me up the wall
I hate that crap I really do
So why do you want to play ******* to me
Ahh this is *******
Oh yeah this is *******
Watching ****** reality television which doesn’t mean a thing
Ahh this is *******
Really really *******
You see they play gridiron
And they play ice hockey
And yeah it is party time
I like partying and I like teasing
The conservos as they are doing their jobs
You see ahh they speak ******* total total *******
Ahh this is *******
It is total *******
Watching the crap they speak on sky news on win
You see it is right wing crap ya see
As the oldies sit there with their cup of tea
Yeah that is *******
Total utter *******
Yes ******* comes around
In their mouths every day
Yes they do
Ahh they speak *******
Complete and utter *******
And that is the truth
Or is it ahhhh *******
Thanks guys and gals and I want to say this enjoy Jupiter and I will see you when I come again.
False Poets Oct 2017
does the moon get tired?

~for the children who never tire of moon gazing upon the dock,
by the light of the fireflies,
till the angels are dispatched by Nana,
to sprinkle sleepy dust in their eyelashes so long and fine~


<•>
while walking the dog I no longer have,
a happenstance glanceable up over the River East,
there you were, mr. moon, in all your fulsomeness ,
surrounded by a potpourri of courtier clouds,
all deferentially bowing, waving,
passing past you at a demure royal speed on their way
perhaps,
to Rebecca's northern London,
of was it south to grace of  v V v's Texas^,
in any event,
the cloudy ladies, all bustling and curvaceous,  
all high stepping in recognition of your exalted place,
Master of the Night Sky

We,
the word careless, poets excessive,
sometimes called silly poppies, old men,
left footed, still crazy after many years,
most assuredly poets false all of us,
without a proper prior organized thought train,
outed,
bludgeon blurted,
an inquiry preposterous and strange,
strait directed to the sombre face,
to mister moon himself!

tell me moon, do you ever tire?*

the obeisant clouds shocked
as that face we all uniform know,
unchanged anywhere you might go  to gaze, be looking upon it,
watched the moon's face turn askew.

He looking down at our rude puzzlement,
with a Most Parisian askance,
a look of French ahem moustacheoed disbelief,
while we watched as the moon cherubic cheeks
filled with airy atmosphere,
then he sighed

so windy winding, was it,
so mountain high and river deep,
that those chubby clouds were blown off course,
from a starless NYC sky
all the way past Victoria Station,
only to stop at Pradip and Bala's
mysterious land of
bolly-dancing India,
on their way to Sally's Bay of Manila,
magic places all!

Mr. Moon looked down at this one tremulous fool representative  
(me) and in a voice
basso beaming and starry sonorous,
befitting its stellar positioning,
squinting to get a closer look at the
who in whom
dare address him in such an emboldened manner!

Mmmmm, recognize you, you are among those
who use my presence, steal my lighted beams, my silver aura,
my supermoon powered light, borrow my eclipses,
reveal my changeling shaped mystery without permission,
only mine to give, you tiny borrowers who write that thing,
p o e t r y

head and kneed, bowed and bent,
I confessed
(on y'alls behalf)

we take your luminosity and don't spare you
even a tuppence, a lonely rupee, no royalties paid
to you-up-so-highness,
and we hereby apologize for all the poets
without exception,
especially those moon besotted,
only love poem writing,
vraiment misbegotten scoundrels....

with another sigh equality powerful,
mr moon pushed those clouds across the Pacifica,
all the way to the  US's West Coast,
up to Colorado,
where moon-takings from the lake's reflecting light
so perfect for rhyming, kayaking,
and moonlight overthrowing,
once more, the moon taken and begotten,
nightly,
as heaven- freely-granted

yes, I tire
and though  here I am much beloved,
usually admired though sometimes even blackened cursed,
seen in every school child's drawing,
in Nasa's calculations,
of my influential gravitational pull,
moving human hearts
to love and giving Leonard a musical compositional hint,
and while this admirable devotion is most delighting,
would it upset some vast eternal plan,
if but one of you once asked,
you fiddler scribblers
my prior permission,
even by just, a lowly
mesmerizing evening tide's tenderizing glance?

yes, I tire,
even though my cycles are variable,
my shape shifting unique, my names so at variance
in all your many musical sing-song dialectical languages,
my sway, my tidal currents so powerful a deterrence,
unlike my boring older sunny cousine  who just cannot get over
how hot looking she is,
I,  so more personally interesting,
yet you use me as if I were a fixture,
on and off with
a tug of the chain string,
never failing to appear,
even when feeling pale yellow and orange wan,
and worse,
mocked as an amore pizza pie,
do you ever ask how I am doing?

yes, I tire,
of my constant circuitous route that changes ever so slowly,
but yet, too fast for me to make some nice human acquaintances, especially those young adoring children
who give me their morn pleasurable squeals when they awake and my presence still there,
a shining ghost of a guardianship protector still
watching over them

how oft in life do we presume,
take for granted
grants so extra-ordinary
that we forget to remember
the extra
and see only the ordinary

how oft in life do we assume,
the every day is always every,
until it is not,
only an only
a now and then,
till then,
is no longer a
now*

<>
oh moon, oh moon,
our richest apologies
we hereby tender and surrender,
our arrogance beyond belief,
what can we offer in relief?

silence heard loud and clear,
mr. moon was gone,
a satellite in motion,
so our words burnt up in the atmosphere
unheard

we did not weep
nor huff and puff,
blow those clouds back to us,
for we knew
the extraordinary
would return tomorrow,
we will be ready,
better another day,
to prepare
a lunar composition,
a psalm of hallelujah praise,
for mr. moon
of which
mr moon will never tire,
for filled with the perma-warmth
of our affection
for the one we call mr.moon
False Poets is a collective of different poets who write here, in a single voice,
hence the confusing interchangeable switching of the pronouns.    sorry bout that.


^ HP - give them back the claimed  V name!
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
October 2013

for Maria and Logan...

you need two hands, one foot.
count my years.
each finger, worth a decade.
each toe, well, a century...

birthdays.

point of inflection,
point of opportunity,
presents itself,
to rewrite history.

a second coat of paint,
gift-wrapped in weak excuses.
how I lied, how I ain't,
grimm-fated fairy tales
somebody created.

invisible suits of gold-cloth
worn to my party of
past rewrit and
future foretold.

one single thought,
memory,
seizes my heart,
as I fall to my knees.
cracks my temperate ease,
renders open the
woof and weave
of recycled deceptions,
causing all to be revealed
and ask,

what if the poetry ceases?

you know prostrate?
you taste grief?

have you not but
one pain,
one act,
one deed,
one memorization,
act of cowardice,
act of desertion,
mistake maden, taken,
for which
forgiveness
can never
be given,
be taken,
attained?

do, does, did.

let me then
win the birthday lottery,
let floods of relief from
daily chores, not drown me,
chauffeurs to drive,
masseurs to massage,
cooks to cook,
les delicious treats,
keep theologians, logicians
on retainer, if need
explanations.

none know, can provide,
still and yet, a
priestly sacred chord,
grants relief,
absolution,
song of hallelujah
the ache of
perpetuity worry,
that ancient pain,
grows fresher daily,
the loss of one,
of my body,
my primal knot
unreasonable,
everything should be
permitted to be untied,
on my birthday, no?

this day, these days
breathe through words,
molecules of vowels,
stem cells of consonants,
the fabric, the tissues of life,
veins are a dictionary
of corpuscles,
red blood cells are
nouns of nutrients.

this day, these days,
the infection of my soul
is tempered, kept at bay,
tamped down from the
full flowering
of white blood cells
of rhyme, verse.

what if the poetry ceases?

Though the bones creak,
the body they carry. resurrect
for morning, afternoon
and evening prayers.

thrice daily poetry I recite,
roses red, violets blue,
my marrow transfused.

though my prayers refused,
the poetry act immolates
the fringes of my disease,
for which the common cure
is not currently invented....

what if the poetry ceases?

but be assured, told
scientists hard at work,
on the
forgive n' forget drug.

meantime,
take a bubble bath in
rosemary and mint
trap some words,
tap some words into
your cell phone bone,
the poetry heat that
provides aspirin relief.

through this poem,
on one day annual,
I am relieved, relived
the muse is feted, sated,

gone for few moments
concerns, worries of
exposure today,
agnostic's foxhole of hell
is dis-remembered,
the gloss returns,
the faux dispatched,

ain't birthdays grand?

what if the poetry ceases?

what rhymes with
Sorrow?
mmmmm,
could it be
Morrow?

bath drains, rosemary and mint
odors dismissed, the  Argentine disparu,
the Spanish Medievalists,
the Neo-Raphaelites,
all gone,
didn't they have birthdays too?

didn't know
the Renaissance come
and go,
and nobody
tole ya?

please recall t'is the day
after my sweet city recorded my
naissance in the
Hospital of the Flowers
on Fifth Avenue.

the 'crats put the datum
in the bureau with the
night creams and
the statistics
as follows:

on this day + a few,
six or twenty decades ago +
a few centuries,
a question was born,
and an ache that is
sometimes relieved,
by a poem song.

though do not celebrate,
t'is a day to calibrate,
review, edit, tinker,
rewrite, often a stinker.

always one thought recycles:

what if the poetry ceases?

(how will I breathe?)
Notes: my birthday was a few weeks ago. One of a number poems I've written about birthdays.  This one was modified, but only slightly for Maria and Logan.
Nadia Dec 2013
Learning to sext and he puts mmmm in texts.
Read my dad's chat on Facebook and he writes that.
Read my mom's messenger chat and she writes that.
I don't write that to my net fiance I think it's stupid.
How can you type that when you feel nothing when
you sit there typing about doing ****** stuff.
I never had real life *** but is it supposed to feel like you feel nothing?
Fair Warning this does contain explicit language and ****** content if you are under the age of 18 please click exit, If you are offended by ****** prose please don't read this one either......LOL


Meet Me at the Holiday Inn  He said

she of course said yes without hesitation

Make sure to check in a room in the back He said

He did not want anyone disturbing their time
Nor for anyone to hear the noises that might sound disturbing to some

her body quivered as He explained why a room in the back

she would never defy Him, it was not in her nature to do so

every part of her just ached to please Him to make Him happy

When you get in the room leave it unlocked and undress I want you ready for me as soon as I arrive

her heart hammered hard, pale flesh went crimson, nerves were causing her to fidget and He hated fidgeting

I can't wait to see you naked waiting for me

Your pale bountiful flesh bare of clothing waiting for my eyes to roam from top to bottom and back up again

How does that make you feel girl?  He asked

Very uneasy but excited to, afraid, desired, wanting  she said

His laughter was unmistakable He knew the effect He had on her and He reveled in it, He got tremendously hard just thinking about the power He exhorted over her

Oh god, how am I to undress and wait for Him to enter the room, what if He waits an hour before coming in, I will die from embarassment and desire all mixed together

You are my good girl aren't You ****?  He asked quietly

Yes I am  she responded

The conversation ended and she began to dress with care unsure why as she was just going to remove it anyway

Having showered, pulling the razor blade over the flesh between silky thighs, making sure no hair or stubble was present

See she knew He just might have a piece of duct tape that He would place between the cheeks of her *** and pull just to see if she shaved everywhere He desired

Her hands moved steadily along the crack, her juices were already flowing from the heat of the shower, thoughts of Him at the hotel, His voice a few moments ago

The pleasure nub at the Y section of her petals was throbbing dying to be touched, yet she knew better, to touch without His permission could land her in big trouble, shuddering at the thought

Fingers slid between the succulent petals making sure they were smooth, washing with the sweet aromatic soap moving up her body over the large globes of ivory with the pale areolas, ******* hard already

She was going to lose it before ever getting to her destination

The phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin

You finish Your shower girl?

Yes I did

Did you get excited and remember I always know when you lie?

Yes I got excited but I stopped myself from relieving the ache

Very good girl, You have come a long way I am very  pleased

Are you still naked from the shower?

Yes just drying off

Get the 8 inch toy I bought you and lay on the bed

Her heart beat so hard she thought it would burst from her chest
Doing as ordered, grabbing the 8 inch vibrating ***** that filled her so tightly that it almost hurt

Lay down on the bed my girl

Securing the door, svelte flesh lay upon the soft bedding, hard tipped globes ached, as well as the nub between the shaved rose petals, even her *** throbbed

Where should we play today my little *****?

Anywhere, it matters not, just pleasee take this ache away  

He chuckled knowing she was dripping wet by now, she was His little waterfall, always wet just at the thought of Him or the sound

Pinch your ****** hard and make sure I hear you

Awwwww yesssss!!!

He began to give her quick instructions moving things rather quicker than usual

Harder girl, slide your other hand around that hard ****, begin rubbing it fast

Moaning loudly as her fingers fluttered over the pleasure nub like a butterfly kissing a flower, other fingers pinching and pulling upon the hard ******

Hurry girl I thought you said you were dying of need

Ohhhhh I am I am pleaseeee don't stop

He chuckled at that she was going to be a delight this night, He just might not let her get dressed for a few days and let her sleep with Him buried deep inside her

Release the ****** and get the toy, spread those thighs wider, I want you to take the toy deep inside your tight wet tunnel all at once and all the way

His **** was hard and He began to stroke it in earnest as her sounds were maddening to Him, man her voice was like a **** siren, He already had the first drop of moisture revealing itself from the tip

Ohhhhhh YESSSSSSSSSSS, ahhhhhh, pleaseeeeee, moreeeee oh pleassseeee

You know what to do **** yourself hard without mercy but don't your release unless I say so

She was already close before He said to use the toy harder and faster, biting her lower lip hard to keep herself from exploding, ramming the silicone **** deep into her silky wet folds, she could feel the dripping honey between her *** cheeks knowing that area would no longer be virginal after tonight, shivering as the pressure began to build

He continued to move His large hand up and down, hell yes this **** drove Him wild how He got so lucky to find her He had no idea but she was His and He intended to make sure she knew it in every way tonight

Her well was so tight around the toy, but it slid in deep an easy due to her soaking wet desire

Moaning louder, she began to beg, and plead, oh pleasee let me release, I can't hold it much longer, pleaseeee I am begging you

Nope not yet He chuckled

Ohhhhhhhhh nooooo pleaseee, whimpering and whining as the pressure increased driving her mad with desire

His hand moved up and down as images of her tight *** wrapped around His thick length filled his brain, ahh oh yeah mmmm He could hear the ***** going in and out from the wetness surrounding it which further incited His imagination.   Mmmmm yes that tight ***** and then He was claiming that cherry ***

she was sweating holding back, oh pleassse she thought as her mouth let screams of pleasure, whining, and whimpers escape, hips lifting off the bed meeting the toy ****** after ******  

He felt his **** hardening to where He could have hammered a nail into a board, and suddenly He could feel it ready to explode

Now ****!!! and don't you hold back on me

Ohhh yes!!!!

Her body bucked and muscles clamped down as fluids exploded forth from her well soaking the bed, her thighs, and draining down the crack of her ***, her screams nearly deafened Him but He did not care

Ahhh yes baby here it **** just for you oh **** oh **** **** girl

His hand tightened around His shaft a little harder as suddenly the stream of thick white cream spewed across the table where He was sitting, shooting thick goo over and over as He let loose.  Oh He so could not wait to get a hold of her

Very good girl now clean up and get your *** to the hotel and don't forget the paddle as you have a punishment yet before any enjoyment

Oh, she had hoped You forgot all about that

Oh no I remember and unless you want more added I suggest you not forget anything I have instructed of you

Unbeknownst to her after He hung up His girlfriend walked in having seen His performance and the evidence marking the kitchen table as His shaft was still hanging out of His jeans

I am going out for the weekend be back on Monday

His girlfriend nodded her head and didn't dare say a word even when He said
Oh and clean up that table no hands, rags, just your mouth
*

He chuckled as He heard the sharp intake of breath, oh how He loved His women, so compliant, obedient and they never questioned His demands.  He headed out the door with His duffle bag full of things to titillate the brain and body
Written by Jennifer Humphrey  all rights reserved
Matt May 2015
I hope to breast feed
Like a hungry baby

To be comforted and consoled
By a loving woman

As I **** the warm milk from her breast
What a delicious treat
Mmmmm I'm hungry
Edna Sweetlove May 2015
EDNA:  I believe you recently had a gay little adventure, Vladimir. So why don’t you tell me all about it? I can see you are simply dying to get it off your chest…

VLADIMIR:  Well, Edna, it happened like this. I hadn't cruised the ***** toilet in the park for months and I was ******* randy, absolutely dying for a really good session, so I thought I'd go along here after the pub shut and see what was up, see if there was any ******* ******* action. I wore some **** ****** under my jeans, you know the sort of stuff: red open crotch *******, suspenders and black fishnet stockings. My **** kept dribbling as I was in the pub, just thinking of what might happen down the toilet.  At closing time, I left the pub, my carrier bag in my hand, with a big anticipatory bulge in my pants.

EDNA [gulp]  And then what happened, Vladimir, dear?

VLADIMIR:  Once I got to the toilet, I was surprised there was no one inside, but there were a few nearby shadows in the park, people smoking cigarettes, walking round, looking for it.  Once in the toilet, I selected the cleanest cubicle and took off my jeans and shirt and put them into the carrier bag. I replaced my normal shoes and socks with the white high heeled women's shoes I had waiting in the carrier. Then I waited in the cubicle for someone to come into the toilet.

After only a few moments, I heard footsteps and I looked under the door to see who was there at the ******.  It was a short muscular looking man wearing jeans and Doc Martens. I could see he wasn't *******, but just standing there, though I couldn't see his face. I opened the cubicle door and he turned around to see who was there, so I opened the door wide open so he could see me standing there in the stockings, suspenders and silk ******* with my stiff **** sticking out of the hole in them.

He was about forty and very butch looking with close cropped hair and I could see his **** hardening as he looked at me.  I went over to him and took his **** in my hand and he grabbed hold of mine and started rubbing it.  I got down on my knees and took his short, fat, uncircumcised **** in my mouth; it tasted salty and ******* gorgeous. He grabbed hold of the back of my head and forced his **** deep down my throat nearly making me gag.  I could smell the odour of his ***** hair and I loved it.  He said, "Keep ******* it, you ***** ****, or I'll pull your ******* head off." I loved him talking ***** like that to me.

EDNA [getting a bit excited]  That seems very bold of you both.  What happened next?

VLADIMIR:  In what seemed no time at all, I felt him tense and then I got an enormous mouthful of his hot *****.  I'd never known anyone come so much, he must have had a week's worth in his *****.  After he'd come, he took his **** out of my mouth, put it away and zipped himself up.  I started to get to my feet, but he pushed me backwards onto the filthy floor.  ‘You're lucky I don't knock your face in, you ****,’ he said as he went out.  I love my men to be a bit rough with me, so I was very excited by this.  I half hoped he would punch me but he didn't.

EDNA: [wiping forehead] Well, that’s really very interesting. Did you go home then, dear, or were you still up for it, as the expression goes, Vladimir?    

VLADIMIR:  I got up and dusted myself down.  I could taste his come in my mouth, it was ******* delicious.  I was still incredibly excited, my **** was absolutely rigid and I knew I just needed to give it a couple of rubs and I'd shoot my ***, but I wanted more ***, and I knew once I came, I would just feel like going home.  So I went back into my cubicle and waited to see if anyone else came in.

After about five minutes I heard footsteps, followed by more footsteps again and I looked under the door a second time.  There were two men standing there and, by straining my neck, I could see they were groping each other.  One had one hand on the other's **** and his other hand on his **** and the other man was working on the first man's **** as well.  

I let the door open and they both swung round as they hadn't known there was anyone else in the toilet.  They saw me and looked relieved it wasn't a policeman lurking in there.  One was quite young, about twenty or twenty five, but he was a bit skinny and effeminate-looking.  The other one was much older, about fifty, but he was much better looking and I could see he had a huge **** on him.  I walked over to them in my **** rigout and joined in with the wanking.  They both started feeling my **** under my *******.

I turned round and bent over, my hands on the toilet cubicle doorposts, stuck my **** out invitingly and pulled my ******* down to my knees.  ’Why don't you **** me?’ I said, bold as brass.  The older man, the one with the big ****, left the young skinny guy and took up the offer I had made.  He undid his trousers and pulled his underpants down to reveal the full length of his enormous **** and his big hairy *****.  He spat on his hand and rubbed it on his ****, but he needn't have bothered because I had already lubed my **** when I was waiting in my cubicle.  

He slipped his big **** up my moist ******* without much difficulty and then started ******* me gently.  I told him to **** me harder, to **** me harder than he had ever ****** anyone in his life, so he started to really ram it up my hole.  God, I loved it.

EDNA [sweating with mounting excitement and unable to resist touching herself down there]  Mmmmm. I wish I’d been there to see that, I really, really do.  But don’t let me disturb your narrative flow, darling….

VLADIMIR:   Then the young skinny guy got down on his knees in front of me and took my **** in his mouth.  Each time the man who was giving it to me ****** hard into me, I jolted forward and rammed my **** deep into the skinny guy's mouth.  I was moaning with ecstasy as I got ****** and ****** by two complete strangers.  The guy with the big **** couldn't last long and soon shot his load up my **** and as he did it he said, ‘O Christ, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm shooting my ***** up your ******* *******.’  This made me incredibly excited and I came off in the younger man's mouth.  The skinny youngster was wanking his own **** as he knelt in front of me and I know he came as I felt the ***** splashing on my stockinged legs.

As he removed his still fat **** from my gaping hole, a stream of the older man's ***** ran down my legs.  He said he wished his wife would let him **** her in the ******* like that.  I went to kiss him but when he smelled the ***** on my face from the butch one I'd ****** off earlier, he wasn't having any of it and left with a mumbled goodbye.

The younger man had now got to his feet and was standing in front of me as he buttoned himself up.  He said ‘We can wait a few minutes and then we can do it again if you like.  I'd love you to **** me, you've got a lovely ****.’  But it was no good, the magic had passed and I told him to ****** off.

So I went back into the cubicle, got changed back into my ordinary clothes and left the toilet.  I could feel ***** oozing out of my ******* and I could taste the first load in my mouth still.  I had a smile on my face. It had been a great night out.

EDNA:  [removing her hand from inside her ******* as unobtrusively as possible and trying to disguise the fact she has just had a cataclysmic ******]  Wow, that’s really a very exciting story. It’s made old Edna quite hot and bothered. You really are a very naughty boy, Vladimir.

VLADIMIR: Would you like me to tell you about what happened to me in the old cinema down by the docks?

EDNA: [still throbbing a bit] No, dear, that will be the subject of another interview. We don't want to over-excite our readers, do we?

*THE END
Simon Oct 2019
What’s happened! A voice remarked. Why are my puzzle pieces scattered in a wasteland? Another voice spoke up, sounding distant. That’s what I’d like to know! Then more followed. Sounding like a choir of different voices were in effect. Except none of the voices sounded cheery in their perfect chorus on cue. A shriek followed. A wasteland full of shrieks rumbled the ground. Ejecting lots of dust. Blinding visibility across a wide landscape! A landscape full of sand. Governing a deadly waste scouring a dryness accumulating pieces of voices not to far off from one another. Dust from the shrieks rumbling the ground, finally clear. Settling a glimpse at what has been shrieking with such volumes of obscure reasoning. Puzzle…PIECES! Huh? Who said that…? The voice asked, completely taken off guard. What instrument are we trying to provide here? Not sure I’m exactly wondering what your trying to offer by the term (instrument)? Having instruments aren’t folly you know. Another voice interrupting the other voices conversing nonsense. You guys do realize non of what your saying is making any practical sense? Like…at ALL! Huh? One voice replied. Another joining in. Well if your so clever…why don’t you entertain us with how things should really be voiced? Gladly! The more logical voice commented. The voice acting snobbish made a sound. Showcasing it didn’t like being told what it knew and what it didn’t know. The dust has settled. The two voices conversing said on cue. Your point…? No logic, until you display your horizons onto the landscape which shows what we are. One voice replied confused. Logic? Another responded. Horizons? Then on cue again. Landscape??!! The logical voice continued. Just looking around the landscape, which introduces the horizon of who, what, and where you are. Making the logical assessment that, well…everything…is what should have been since the very beginning. Panting for just a single moment. Without claim or focus…the end! The two conversing voices completely dumbfounded, sighed very harshly! Finally deciding to take the more logical one’s words more seriously. Other voices following on cue. Which made all voices look down toward there surroundings. The logical one smiled brightly! AHHH! Another shriek came. O…JEEESSSUUUSSS!!! More shrieks accumulated the wasteland. Prompting more dust to rumble. Popping all over the horizon’s visibility again! So, what did we learn about this very confusing, obscuring display? Well…easy! A voice said from no where. That it was a display of nurturing. Huh…? Really? The one sounding like the narrator drawn in by the voices interest. Ya, well… They stopped to rethink what they just offered in response. Your hesitating. The narrator’s voice sounding suspicious. Ya, well… Not sure how to express what I saw. Still remaining suspicious, the narrator continued. Anda…what is it…you exactly…saw…? The voice from no where exploded all built up energy in one gigantic spurt! There was puzzle pieces scattered in a wasteland! They had no identity to speak of. Pieces deconstructed in a sand covered landscape full of dry essence. And…and… They stopped mid-thought to catch their breath! The narrator didn’t speak a word. The dust was symbolizing ones missing grasp at not figuring out they were all apart of the same form. The same essence. Drying out claims too full of themselves through partial reasoning on potential agreements never going anywhere. Mmmmm…mhm…mmmmm… The narrator seemingly amused by this information. No identity, means no way of connecting to one another. Never to make sense of the premise one could offer. Puzzle pieces stuck in the sands of dry essence. A rut too involved to be just any coincidence. The dry essence covering up each puzzle piece. Muffling there voices forever. They tried to reach out. Trying to make sense of (what could have been). Rather then how to assort their differences into one claim. Working together wasn’t this identities strongpoint. Pieces were arguing too much. Until one seemed to be the most offering of the bunch. Thou…thou… Go on. The narrator said. No one listened to them. Following in the footsteps of one foolish puzzle piece after the other. Until there was nothing to be left, but silence. The voice from no where shrieked towards the narrator’s glaring tension toward the speaker. Laughing in disgust toward the potential risk one poses when reaching out toward its other component pieces.
Puzzle pieces will never learn if each piece doesn’t know how to direct oneself, before connecting with the bigger, more established form. Which is rendered to a mere silhouette full of details invoking a nothingness claim.
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Hub of influence power centre ganglion from
    which nerve fibres radiate to every solution
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip. 30/10/2018.
This is not your average Acrostic. I have incorporated an A to Z. Abcerian within its length which requires extra effort and stayed within a first person monologue. I hope the reader liked this effort. It took a week to write.
Poetic T Mar 2015
Another morning in the life
Of a P.T.D, I slurped my
Juice back all  400 ml, then
Stretched up, fingers
Wiggling as mother picked
Me up.

Snuggles in the morning
Nothing better, to show I'm
Loved. But back to business,
As I turned my dummy to
The opposite side, the taste
Is better every time its turned
Soothing with each ****.

It was nearly breakfast time
A belly is never wrong,
MMmmm...
Toast and jam, I smile
At mummy with my
Cheshire Jam smiled face.
"Silly little man"
As she wipes the smudges
From all over my face.

A case to solve, was my plan,
The missing statue of
SANDMAN BOB tm.
It was here before, but now
Gone, the prized possession
Of hairy dog, as I pat his head
And he licks my face
Yuckkkk....
Doggy that was yuck, he wags
His tail and then he is off.

What a morning so much done,
Time for a nap then detective
Work to be done. I wake to
Dads voice,
"Morning little man"
"How was your nap"
As i give my answer with a
Yawn and a smile, he gives
A cuddle then off to work for
Hours of fun and playing games.

The clues to be seen the trail
To be found, for I'm
"***** Trained Detective"
And no case is to far, as
Long as I can have a nap
And a cuddle, maybe a
Little sip and a gulp, here
On look out of what is to
Be found.

Hairy dog is sleeping in his
bed, I hear a noise I hear a
Sound??
What a strange noise,
"Snoring"
"NO"
"Bottom belches"
"No funny smells"
As I lift up his blanky
Softly so not to wake doggy's sleep,
And their he is safe and sound.

"SANDMAN BOB"
"Playing hide and go seek"

Under hairy dogs nose and bottom,
As he sleeps it does squeak, it
Does beep, I lift it up and under
His paw, to surprise him when
He awakens. A tail shall wiggle
And flop around, but the case was
Solved and a happy smile found.

***** Trained Detective does it
Again, but for now it is nap time,
A new case, a new thing to be
Found. I will see you all again
Soon, But now its snuggles
Time with mummy in bed.
As I close my eyes night, night
I turn my dummy once more,
As sheep float quietly over my head.
If you like this please tell me if you think I should wrote another chapter.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2023
October 2023, ten years later…dedicated to all my dear friends here,
some who may be reading this for the tenth time!

<|>

you need two hands, one foot.
counting my years.
each finger, worth a decade.
each toe, well, a century...

birthdays.

point of inflection,
point of opportunity,
presents itself,
to rewrite history.

a second coat of paint,
gift-wrapped in weak excuses.
how I lied, how I ain't,
grimm-fated fairy tales
somebody else created.

invisible suits of gold-cloth
worn to my party of
past rewrites and
future versions three and more
foretold.

one single thought,
memory,
seizes my heart,
as I fall to my knees.
cracks my temperate ease,
renders open the
woof and weave
of recycled deceptions,
causing all to be revealed
when I ask,

what if the poetry ceases?

you know prostrate?
you tasted grief?

have you not but
one pain,
one act,
one deed,
one memorization,
act of cowardice,
act of desertion,
mistake made, taken,
for which
forgiveness
can never
be given,
be taken,
attained?

do, does, did.

let me then
win the birthday lottery,
let floods of relief from
daily chores, not drown me,
chauffeurs to drive,
masseurs to massage,
cooks to cook,
les delicious treats,
keep theologians, logicians
on retainer, if needed for
explanations.

none know, or can provide,
still and yet,
a priestly sacred chord,
grants relief,
absolution,
a song of hallelujah
the ache of
perpetuity worry,
an ancient pain,
grows fresher daily,
the loss of one,
of my body,
my primal knot
unreasonable,
everything should be
permitted to be untied,
on my birthday, no?

this day, these days
breathe through words,
molecules of vowels,
stem cells of consonants,
the fabric, the tissues of life,
veins are a dictionary
of corpuscles,
red blood cells are
nouns of nutrients.


this day, these days,
the infection of my soul
is tempered, kept at bay,
tamped down from the
full flowering
by white blood cells ,
champions of rhyme, verse.


what if the poetry ceases?

Though the bones creak,
the body they carry. resurrected
once more,
for morning, afternoon
and evening prayers.

thrice daily poetry I recite,
roses red, violets blue,
my marrow transfused.

though my prayers refused,
the poetry act immolates
the fringes of my disease,
for which the common cure
is not yet currently invented....

what if the poetry ceases?

but be assured, told
scientists hard at work,
on the
forgive n' forget drug.

meantime,
take a bubble bath in
rosemary and mint
trap some words,
tap some words into
your cell phone bone,
the poetry heat that
provides aspirin relief.

through this poem,
on one day annual,
I am relieved, relived
the muse is feted, sated,

gone for few moments
concerns, worries of
exposure today,
agnostic's foxhole of hell
is dis-remembered,
the gloss returns,
the faux dispatched,

ain't birthdays grand?

what if the poetry ceases?

what rhymes with
Sorrow?

mmmmm,
could it be
Morrow?

bath drains, rosemary and mint odors dismissed,
the Argentine disparu,
the Spanish Medievalists,
the Neo-Raphaelites,
all gone,
didn't they have birthdays too?

Michelangelo didn't know
the Renaissance come
and gone,
and nobody
tole ya?

please recall t'is the day
after my sweet city recorded my
naissance in the
Hospital of the Flowers
on Fifth Avenue.

the 'crats put the datum
in the bureau with the
night creams and
the statistics
as follows:

on this day +/- a few,
seven or twenty decades ago +
a few centuries,
a question was born,
and an ache that is
sometimes relieved,
by a poem song.

though do not celebrate,
t'is a day to calibrate,
review, edit, tinker,
rewrite, often a stinker.

always one thought recycles:

what if the poetry ceases?

(how will I breathe?)
first penned ten years ago,
annually tinkered,
weirdly prophetic
and still spot on…

in the “early” days, wrote my poetry on a cellphone
while soaking the venoms out…
Breathing Ice May 2011
i went to see him at work today.
Because i missed him and
Because he was sick and just
Because.
he gave me apple juice. i gave him Tylenol. 

we kissed in the living room when
no one was watching. he tasted like
Green apples and
Green tea and
Summer.
he had that look in his eyes. 

sometimes you just know, you know?
Oliver Philip Dec 2018
2010
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 19th 2018. ~
Some poetry to live by ....  The greatest power
Pink Taylor Jun 2010
I don't like him like you do
But somehow find myself kicking off my shoes
And falling into bed with him
I just can't help the attraction that I'm feelin'
You two, you were meant for each other
Us two, we're just hot for one another
You can't have him,
Your feet all up in chains
Hurt his best friend,
Can't ******' play that game

Now I should back on down
So as to spare your feelings
But when that boy's around me
Man, my head starts reeling
He's gettin' me all dizzy
When he's strummin' that guitar
With those long dark dreads
mmmmm
You know I don't get far

A little too much *****
And my head's not thinking right
I'm gonna do something stupid
And make a hell out of my life

But you know
He makes my head go crazy
When he's strummin' that guitar
And when he strums me with those fingers
mmmmm
You know I don't get far

My deadly attraction
Will be the death of me
Frisk Jan 2016
Chloe's POV:

2 Days Before -

“If I find you camping, I swear to god, Chloe ******* Price –“ Rachel challenges, “– I’m drawing blood. Don’t grin at me. I’ll leave you for the vultures to snack on. Maybe for cannibals too.”

“**** me with a plastic light up gun? How threatening.”

You know when you’re listening to the instructor reciting the rules for the game of laser tag for the nine thousandth time, and there’s the teenager ******* around in the background with guns? That’s me and Rachel, who holds a gun up to my face and makes a reference to the Star Wars Family Guy episode where the storm trooper pretends to shoot down passerby ships by saying, “Pew, pew, gotcha!”

Both team vests, red and blue, are occupied so it’s a full game. Even though we were one of the last people to come in, we managed to get opposite colored vests. Rachel is on the red team, while I’m on the opposing blue team. Only natural since the vest matches my hair color.

When the instructor opens the door, the crowd piles out into the room booming Irresistible by Fall Out Boy. Rachel and I are one of the last ones out, holding our guns up towards the sky as we walk in feeling like we’re walking away from a huge explosion acting like we’re James Bond. As the vocals of the song begin, the red and blue vests come to life beginning the game.

“Pew, pew, gotcha!” Rachel coyly replies, rushing off as my vest dies.

Insert groan here. I roll my eyes, darting quickly after Rachel as my vest comes back to life. Rachel ducks down behind a purple glowing pillar, holding her gun out from behind it to shoot me as I come up the stairs. “Your shooting is so messy, you idiot.”

Someone takes out Rachel’s vest, and my vest is taken out immediately after hers. What a way to start this game. “******* it.”

“Have you even gotten anyone yet?” She yells as she darts off.

A group of kids in red vests come upstairs. I shoot at the vests from the second story, and they glance up angrily at me as their vests die. They invade my hiding space shortly after, and I’m forced to flee over to the other side of the arena into one of the walled-off areas with a hole to shoot out of, specifically for campers and for recharging vests. Immediately, I crash into somebody who drops their gun and grabs my arms instinctively because of how hard I slam into them, pushing me back gently. “Are you okay?”

The short-haired brunette girl I run into is drop-dead gorgeous, freckles peppering her cheeks. As usual, I don’t think before I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Woah.”

“You’re making this too easy for me.” The girl comments, shooting out my glowing blue vest quickly after grabbing her gun and steps around me to find another hiding place. *******, I think, what hierarchy of angels did you come from? Why didn’t I notice you before I walked into this laser tag room?

Right. Because I’m on a date with Rachel. Or at least, I’m trying to convince myself that’s what this is. Five days ago, Rachel kissed me while she was drunk mostly because someone suggested the Pocky game at Dana’s nineteenth birthday party. I can see Rachel’s face coming closer to mine as she chomps down on the chocolate Pocky sticks oblivious to the closeness that I was to her face, and I feel her lips crashing with mine for a split second. It feels like I give her the entire world in that kiss, but she pulls back like it was nothing.

How am I the only one who remembers that?

I have to retreat from my camping spots a few times, but I get enough vests taken out that Rachel is guaranteed to say something like, “Oh, you got a pretty good amount of people in this round.”

Ghost by Halsey starts booming through the arena, and practically everyone must be thinking why a song like this is playing because it's slow at first but it reverberates through the bass.

“You’re camping too? You must be bad at this game.” Brunette-haired princess holds me at gunpoint. "Any last words?"

Again, I don’t think before I speak. "You're hella cute."

The brunette girl's vest dies as I shoot at her immediately after, and she shoots mine out shortly after hers turns on. Her doe-like eyes are staring at me angrily in a playful manner, yet also glistening like stars. There's something about her that makes me feel like she sees a universe inside of me.

The music briskly cuts off, and everyone stops in their tracks and fumbles out. Rachel and that girl get lost in the red and blue blur of lights as the arena starts emptying.

It isn't until I come outside that I find Rachel holding a slip of paper. "What was your name, Chloe? I was Rocket, and I got eighth place."

"Starlight, I'm pretty sure?"

"You got seventeenth. Knew it." Rachel joked. "You were camping."

Focus on the here and now, Chloe. You have to ask Rachel about your relationship with her. Stop procrastinating. Rachel's face drops in confusion as I drop the bomb on her. "Can we talk?"

Max's Journal:

2 Days Before-

Wowser. Felt like just yesterday, I got an email for my acceptance into Blackwell Academy on a scholarship. And now I’m an adult, graduated, with a potential photographer job under my belt.

With events such as graduation, it should feel vaguely melancholic but Blackwell Academy is an eye-catcher in my resume. My dexterity with analog and digital cameras catches the eye of a professional photographer named Jack Rousseau working for Hot Topic, and he asked me for an interview. ME.

When I got the email, I practically leaped into Kate’s room gushing over this rare opportunity to work with a professional. I think Victoria overheard me loudly discussing this to Kate, because she was giving me the stink eye all throughout my ceremony from the other day. Whatever. Victoria will eventually earn her spotlight…in hell. I snorted writing that actually, and blushed furiously remembering I’m on a pretty packed bus. Probably got people looking at me like, “Is she okay?”

The first thing my Mom does when she sees me is give me a bone-crushing hug, and compliment my outfit even though it’s a tank top with a large dream catcher printed on the front with my loose green jacket overlapping the shirt with the sleeves pulled up to my elbows. She asks about Mr. Jefferson, and I think I over emphasize how I’m his star pupil. I’m pretty sure Mom gets it after trying to explain that to her several times.

The house smells like spaghetti, and I’m already drooling like a baby when I walk through the front door.
Then Mom randomly hands me a 50$ bill, and tells me to go hang out with one of my Seattle friends since I must miss the crap out of them.

I accidentally say, “What the hell?” in front of Mom. Funny thing is, she doesn’t wash my mouth out with soap. I must be too old for things like that. Maybe this is what a perk is of growing up, I think.

“Come on, go have fun!” Mom practically pushes me out the door, not before letting me have some of her World-Famous spaghetti. Mmmmm. As I jump into my Mom’s vehicle, I realize I don’t know where the **** to go or who to contact so I head to the first place I can think of: Laser tag.

As I sit out in the parking lot, I text Kristen or Fernando to see if they want to hang out here. Usually, Kristen will text back immediately but there’s no response. Fernando seems to be busy, so I head inside myself and buy myself a wrist band for laser tag alone. Who says you need to be with other people to have fun? I’m an expert at laser tag. They call me the best shooter in the northwest.

The instructor looks overwhelmed at the thirty or so people flooding the room, and attempts to talk at the loudest pitch possible to get everyone in the room to listen to the instructions. Of course, there’s giggles happening somewhere over all of these tall and short bodies so I get the jist of it: No running, pushing, fighting, and yelling. We all know there’s running and yelling going to happen.

As I run in, I immediately head for the stairs as my rest vest turns on. Someone shoots me from behind, and I notice it’s a group of kids. Then I decide to camp out in a corner, at least, until I get caught.

I bring out my gun and shoot out three blue vests on the other side of the laser tag arena. The air gets knocked out of me, plus my gun flies out of my hand as someone falls into me. My hands instinctively grab their arms, pushing them off me when I glance up at her face, suddenly startled.

“Woah.” She says, and I feel like lightning passes through both of us as I let go of her arms.

Immediately, I shoot out her vest, rushing off to find somewhere else to hide. My body is racing with adrenaline, and it’s a little hard to concentrate on the game because I’m trying to look for blue hair. In this packed arena of thirty people, it’s easy to get lost in the blur of red and blue lights. It’s easy to see the lights blend into purple.

It’s ironic when Ghost by Halsey starts playing because the first few lines is literally making me think of blue hair: “I’m searching for something that I can’t reach. I don't like them innocent. I don't want no face fresh. Want them wearing leather begging, let me be your taste test. I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies…”

****.

I find her tucked in a corner, mimicking me. And she’s gorgeous. I’m not sure why I am looking for her, but I am. “You’re camping too? You must be bad at this game.” I jokingly hold her at gunpoint. “Any last words?"

What comes out of her mouth leaves me off guard. “You're hella cute."

My vest goes out as she shoots me, and I shoot her back giving her a playful glare. And then something happens between us again, and it’s that jolt of lightning passing through both of us. The music cuts out, and I tear my eyes from the stranger and run out of the laser tag room by myself.

Once I get outside, I check my texts from Fernando and Kristen. Since they’re not replying, I decide to head on home, but my heart is still beating rapidly in my chest. And I’m not sure if it’s because of the game or blue hair.
Oliver Philip Nov 2018
2010
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip. 2010.
Never take for granted the greatest power the power to choose
Turtle Eyes Feb 2015
I miss
Your crazy hair ( It fits you perfectly)
Your intoxicating eyes (I want to get lost in them)
Your beautiful smile (Especially the evil one)
Your cute nose ( I want to kiss it)
Your amazing mouth (mmmmm)
Your sensitive neck ( I can't wait to kiss it from behind)
Your **** shoulders ( I want to caress them slowly)
Your  toned arms ( I want you to wrap them around me)
Your smooth hands (I want them all over my body)
Your perfect ******* ( I want to lick, **** and motorboat them)
Your  toned back ( I want to rub it slowly)
Your yummy tummy ( I can't wait to kiss it on my way to ...)
Your swollen **** (I want to lap and **** it)
Your wet ***** ( I long to kiss, lick, finger and **** it)
Your incredible *** ( I want to bite it and slap it)
Your phenomenal legs ( I can't wait to spread them and have you wrap them around me)
Your adorable feet ( I want to massage them for you)
Your tiny toes ( I can't wait to paint your toenails again)
I miss your body, your mind and your spirit ( I want to be one with you) 22
Oliver Philip Jan 2019
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 29 th. 2018. ~
Never take for granted the greatest power the power to choose
Leila The Kiwi May 2016
I kneel before her
Smoldering heat
Coated in want
Hips rise
Thrash and squirm
An eager tongue
Darts forward

Mmmmm,
Her petals
Are my reward!

l.v.s
Livingdeadgirl Apr 2015
“No one understands me. I don’t want any of these guys; they just won’t leave me alone!” I said to my best friend, Sarah Heart.
“Well, Μαρία, try not to look so nice!”
I am 17; long black hair, hazel eyes, and deep red lips, am about 5’8”, and have unusually pale skin. “I don’t ever look nice, and you know it! Besides, you’re the one who looks great, one of the best in Femenino.” Sarah is 16, long blond hair, blue eyes, pale pink lips, is about 5’, and has very tan skin. “They only like me because I am almost of age.” Here on Femenino, when a girl turns 18, she is ready to be wed. The guys are born with their wings patterns. When the girl decides to marry a certain person, she will mirror the design the guy has after they both say their vows.
“Μαρία, why do you always talk down about yourself?” Sarah said.
“I don’t know, but can we discuss this tomorrow? I’m tired.”
“Ok, but tomorrow we’ll talk about who you’re going to marry. You only have 1 week left to decide.”
“Ok, Sarah,” I yawned, “good night, sweet dreams.”
“Yeah, I’ll have sweet dreams, of the prince marrying me!” she said with a devilish grin. No one knew the prince’s real name, so we just called him ‘prince’.  We laughed at that, “but, good night, girl, we will definitely talk tomorrow.” I fell into a fitful sleep, plagued with the question of who I was to marry in 1 week.
Raven black hair, one eye brown, one eye black, tall, tan, and body like a warrior.” kiss me, Μαρία” he said, “Never leave me, please.”
“I won’t leave you, ever, I swear.”
I woke up, not knowing who the man was. ‘Well, all I know is, it’s time to make a new potion.’ “Ok, let’s see, a bit of baby’s breath, wild flower, lilac blossoms, and a pinch of rose petals. Ok, add them in boiling water, mmmmm that smells good.  Hmm, now, before the dream with him, what did I do with the potion? Oh, yeah, I dabbed it behind the ears, and everyone was happy to see me, even, surprisingly, the girls.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t try it, because some of the girls have never liked me, and I’m probably going to forget what I did, and wonder why they are happy to see me all day, I’m always forgetting things, that’s why I put all my spells in a book, after all.” I mumbled to myself. I went to write it down, calling it the ‘Like Me’ spell. Ok, I have the ‘Love’ potion, a few body, hair, and ****** changing spells, a ‘Find it’ spell, a spell to bind the heart to a specific person. Oh, cute, I still have the spell I made when I was seven, so my heart wouldn’t break if I found a guy, but I didn’t cast it because then I would be sad in the end if I never found the guy I had asked for.
‘Oh, boy, I’m going off to dreamland again. Sigh, will I ever find my kind of guy?’ Well, the only thing that could be worse is the prince picking for me, well, except that we were born on the same day, but at different times, he was born about an hour before me in a room next to me, and since he’s royalty, he chooses a wife before I choose a husband, and I will be mortified since I have to stand next to him, but I doubt anyone would want me as a wife because I’m, in my Aunt Feranium’s words, “an inexcusable excuse of an abomination, no one could possibly want to even be near me, much less marry me”. Well, Aunt Feranium, you’ll get to see if your right or not in 1 week.
Well, today I have to go meet up with some of the guys here, and get some ingredients for my potions and spells. I’m hoping at least one of the guys is ok with how I am and who I am. I guess I’ll meet with guys before I get my ingredients, so I can cheer myself up afterwards.
I met with three guys for the first half hour. Each and every one of them was wealthy and smug. All I could think was, ‘I can’t wait to get away from here and finish up talking to some other guys.’ One guy, named Damien was saying, “When we get married, you will love your life.” Another named Lucas said, “No, when WE get married you will be in the laps of luxury, far more than either of these two could ever give you, Μαρία.” The third guy, named Jordan said, “We all have wealth, so why don’t we let Μαρία choose for herself?”
They all turned to me and looked expectantly. I smiled politely and said, “Well, I have quite a few more people to talk with, so I must not say who of you fine,” and I almost choked on that, “gentlemen. I’m sorry to say, I must go now to meet the others. Good day.” I smiled, got up and left before they could argue/complain/persuade me to stay longer.
I went to meet one of my friends, who was being forced by his mother to court/marry me. I saw him and waved. “Hey, Alejandro, what’s up?”
He did a slight nod of his head, telling me his mom was nearby, eavesdropping on us. He said anyway, “Not much, but you look lovely today. How are you?”
I smiled, because he was not usually like this when his mom wasn’t around. “I am fine. You don’t look so bad yourself.” He blushed, which made me smile, since he only sees me as his one of his best friends, which is the same way I feel about him. I nodded to him, letting him know his mom can no longer hear us, or see us. ‘Goodness, I love being able to do spells with little effort. I just wonder where his mom thinks we went.’
“Thanks Μαρία. So who’d you have to deal with first?”
“Three rich guys.”
He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. Full of themselves and saying who you were going to marry?”
“Yea, well, except the one, he actually asked ME who I’d marry. It was interesting, since no one would usually care what I thought.”
“What did one of them look like?”
“One, named Jordan, who asked my opinion, had short brown hair, tan skin, about 5’ 10”. A second, Damien, has medium ***** blonde hair, dark skin, about 6’. The third, Lucas, had sort of long blonde hair, sort of pale skin, about 5’9”. Why?”
“I think they are following you.” He pointed behind me, and when I turned to see, there they were, a few tables over.
I looked back to Alejandro, smiled, and called for a waiter. “Excuse me, could you send a note and a round of drinks to those three gentlemen over there?” I pointed to the three guys, and gave the waiter 50 coins, and a tip of 20 coins, which is our currency. He smiled and lightly bowed, for the most a waiter would usually get as tip was 5-10 coins.
“What is your note?”
I told him, “Chill out and have a fine day.” He nodded and did as I asked.
When the guys got their drinks, I told Alejandro to come on. We left them there, and made sure they didn’t follow. We got to the market district, because, in truth, Alejandro was the only other person I was to meet. We got there and I showed him a list of ingredients I needed. The list went as follows:
Dew Drops
Sunlight
Sun flowers
Fresh Baby Laughter
Freshly Fallen Snow
Tear of Love
Hair of a Beauty
Sob of a Broken Heart
A Child’s Doll
Petal of a Fully Bloomed Rose
Lilac
Babies Breathe
Final Breath of the Dying
Rose Thorns

He whistled low at how much I needed.  I smiled; because that was the least I needed in quite a few months. We went about getting my stuff and just hung out, until we came upon Sarah, who knew me and Alejandro did not like each other, but teased us saying we did all the same.
She smiled and said, “Hey lovebirds. What goes on? Oh, are you guys finally realizing you’re meant for each other and going to marry each other?”
We said in unison, “No! We are not.” Alejandro scowled while I laughed.
“Sure sounds like you’re meant for each other to me!” Sarah laughed while Alejandro’s scowl grew longer.
I said, “Sarah stop teasing, poor Alejandro couldn’t possibly take all the scowling.” ‘And the heart break, since he’s in love with you Sarah, you just never see. I’m about to tell you straight up.’ I looked over at Alejandro and smiled, since he didn’t tell me, he didn’t know I knew, even though it was written plainly on his face, he thought he was discreet.
He looked down at his feet, letting the hurt pass over his face for a brief second. “I need to get the rest of my ingredients from my list. Okay, let’s see, just a few rose thorns is all I need to get.” We went to go get them. And there, a few feet away, were the three guys again. I pointed them out to Alejandro, and he rolled his eyes. I walked straight up to them.
They acted surprise to see me, I said, “Why are you following me?”
They were all flustered, but Jordan said, “We weren’t following you!”
“Oh, really, you three, follow me, Alejandro, Sarah, you can come to.” We went into an alley way and I continued, “So you three just happened to be at the same café only a few tables away, and then be just a few feet away from me?” They nodded in unison, and I got raged. I used a spell and had them pinned against the wall behind them and asked angrily, “Who are you working for?”
They looked fearful, and Lucas said stammering, “You ought to stop, ‘cause there are witnesses.”
I looked at him, “They are the only thing keeping me in check, you idiot, now, answer my questions, why were you following me and who are you working for?”
They looked at each other, then at me, and swallowed loudly and hard. Damien said, “Sheesh, when we saw you, we thought you’d be no problem to us, but dang! We might as well tell her since she got us, and ‘cause I don’t know her limits.”
They all nodded their heads, before looking frighteningly at me. Damien continued, “We are guards, some of the finest, and I now see we are some of the most arrogant.” I rolled my eyes.
“Why were you following me?”
“We were told to act as the people that we were told to be. It seems your something of interest.”
I glared at them, “You’re lying.” They were wide eyed with fright.
“No! That’s all that we were told!”
“You two might, but he was told more, and he’s not telling.” I glared at him and came close to his face. I looked in his eyes and asked as calmly as I could, “What are you hiding?”
He would not answer, so I let them go, and said, “Don’t follow me anymore! Just leave me alone.”
They stayed in place, frozen with fear, but Jordan piped up, “Wow, with your strength in spells, Μαρία, would you ever consider joining the guard? We really need you and your strength.”
I glared at them and said, “Go!”
They ran, still not sure of my limits when I was mad. My friends burst out in laughter after the guards were well out of ear shot. They said in halting gasps, “I can’t believe you bluffed them while you were mad!”
I smiled, knowing I wasn’t someone that could harm anyone. When I get angry at someone, I always try to bluff them, I guess I’ve either gotten better, or they were not good at telling my bluff. “Well at least we learned something out of this whole episode. Now, let’s get my ingredients and get back to my house, I had a dream about a new spell last night.” I felt a pair of eyes on me, but when I looked, there was nothing there. I shrugged and thought, ‘I must be getting paranoid.’
When we got back to my house, they helped me put my ingredients away, and I showed them my new ‘Like Me’ spell. “I don’t know how long it lasts, so I won’t let it be used on either of you.” I felt the eyes on my back, I turned and saw nothing. “Do either of you two feel like someone’s watching us?”
They shook their heads no, Alejandro said, “Maybe you should do a spell for protection over yourself for whoever’s watching you.”
I nodded, and found one that was simple to do but difficult to break through and lasted a long time. I cast it over my friends as well, who smiled when they felt the spell cover them as well. Sarah said, “Ok, now, Alejandro, shoo, me and Μαρία have a few things to talk about.” She grinned wickedly, and so he left.
He said, “Bye.” And got out as quick as he could.
I looked at her, “Now why’d you do that for? He doesn’t even count as a marriage choice; it’d be too much like marrying a brother.”
She shrugged, “Does it matter? This is girl talk, now spill who you like.” She looked at me expectantly.
“I really don’t know, I’ll just go with my gut when the time comes, okay?”
She sighed dramatically, “Fine!”
I laughed, “You know, it’s not your time to pick, you have a few years, and more than a few admirers.”
She flipped her hair and laughed lightly, “I can’t help if guys like me, Μαρία!”She shrugged, "That's my image, Μαρία, I have to keep up with it, or I'll be ruined!" I laughed.
"You can be so dramatic. You know that?"
"Yea, and now I know you can be to. ‘They are the only thing keeping me in check, you idiot', nice one, especially with the idiot, it added to your tone."
I looked at the floor sheepishly. "It just came to mind, and I went with it. Was I that convincing to you?"
"Are you kidding, I thought you would of killed 'em on the spot! Your bluff is way better Μαρία."
I smiled, "Thanks Sarah."
We went about our own thoughts for an hour, until it was time for Sarah to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow Μαρία."
"Okay, see ya." I flicked my wings out, mostly because I still felt like someone was watching me. I thought about my wings, and how soon I'll have a design. I remembered a type of fairy that used to exist long ago. They were called the florescent fairies. Unfortunately they died off. They all had wing patterns of their own. Even the females had their own patterns that they kept after marriage. Their wings were always so big and elaborate.
I felt my wings tingling, so I went to my front door. There on my doorstep was the guard that I knew as Jordan. He was in his uniform. I said, “What do you want, Jordan, if that is really your name?”
He cleared his throat. He was afraid, but put up a brave front and said, “I came for you were summoned by the head of the royal guard.”
I rolled my eyes, “And why would I be summoned this late at night?”
His bravado was fading when he said, “Because the head of the royal guard wants to see you now.”
“Why?”
His bravado was completely gone now and he was shaking in his boots, “He just wants you to come.”
I rolled my eyes again, turned out the lights, and locked my house up. “Lets’ get this done and over with. I do need to sleep like others’, you know.” Then I felt magic welling up around me. I found them easily with my magic, and brought them out in front of me. I threw them all into a pile in front of me. “Tell me three good reasons I shouldn’t put you all in a magic hold that would leave you motionless for the rest of the night.”
They were all struggling, and I was holding Jordan with a glare. “I am tired, and would not regret it. And you all need to learn to hide your magic. That’s how I knew where you were.”
They all tried to plead for me to let them go, but with a wave of my hand, they fell silent. Jordan said stammering, “They were only supposed to be back-up in case you wouldn’t come.”
I waved my pointer finger side to side, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, not nice to play tricks with me.” I used my magic to send the pile of guards back to the palace, while I looked at Jordan and said, “I told you to leave me alone.” I flicked my hand at him, and he went flying back to the palace. I went back into my house, went to my room, and after taking a hot shower, went to bed.
The next morning, I got up and ready for the day. I was about to leave my home when my wings tingled. Someone was at the door. I looked through a peep hole and saw my friends, Sarah and Alejandro. I opened the door, and they came in talking at me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, so I said, “Slow down, now what?”
They started laughing. Sarah said, “Apparently, you gave all the guard’s a scare. What did you do?”
I looked at them, confused for a second, and then I remembered, and told them the events of last night. They laughed, so I said, “What? I was extremely tired, I wasn’t taking their crap.” That just made them laugh harder.
Alejandro said, “Remind me not to get on your bad side, Μαρία.” He chuckled and said, “Can you teach me some of your **** kicking moves?”
I grinned devilishly and made to look like I was going to use it on him and said “Sure,” and mocked what I did with the guards without using my magic. We all laughed. There was a knock on the door. I rolled my eyes and yelled, “Who is it?”
Whoever it was just knocked again. I went to the door and looked through the peep hole. There was no one there. I motioned my friends back, away, and I used a searching spell. I calmly looked all around my house, then finally smiled. I opened my door fast and
Comments appreciated/wanted!!
you see there are problems in the world, but having patrick dunbar and greame thornes

previous life pattern, in my buddha cycle, like having thoughts of going out feeling like kids were playing games

with you, first of all, they will plant all these rats and feral cats and angry dogs, attempting to attack you

at every turn, and also back then when my place was messy, there were rats and dogs just walking in my

parents laundry, and it made me have problems cleaning my house, and i wondered why we saw rats and feral cats

and my cat muscles was also turning feral and i wanted to calm him down, and i started having my hooligans visions

coming when i went out, when i saw kids laughing or screaming in a drain in wanniassa, and this made me feel bad

i told the messiah about it, and he hated it as well, thinking, someone put the kids down there, and then i heard my

mate patrick, say, i am not mucking with the crazy person, because i was getting his clean mind giving me all sorts of delusions

making me feel, he was poisoning my mind with all these delusions like, muscles is the dingo that killed azaria, you see

i was battling my delusions, ya know, having a hard time, with a mate who hated what rupert murdoch was doing to this world

and i was wanting foxtel, but i seriously couldn’t afford, because rupert murdoch had the prices go too high, and when i had

foxtel, i remember i was in dilusion land, ya know, thinking i was getting a private jet to fly to the USA, to volunteer at a major league baseball match

and another thing too, i felt i was given USA TV, because, my delusions were putting the AFL, on the sunday night, and there was

a USAFL match, on there as well, and, i was having a great time doing volunteer work on the street, at the footy, i loved that, and i did

volunteer work at vinnies, i liked that, and i liked playing santa claus too, but i don’t do that now, i picked up all this ******* outside kingsley’s

and i got honoured for that, and i helped cook the meals at the rainbow, i loved that, but nowadays they turned it into a course, and i liked the

idea of giving the mentally ill people a good meal, and i worked at the softball field, in the 2003 masters games, and i cleared tables as well

as other jobs to do around there, i also worked at the kanga cup soccer, but i hated the last day, when they made us do crowd control, not my forte

and because my house was messy, my parents just went mmmm mmmmmm mmmmm, and this drove me crazy, i don’t want to miss out on opportunities

just because my house is untidy, i tried and cleaned my house, the best as i could, but i was hearing voices, you must help here, you must help there

you must help everywhere, the men will talk to me, if i helped people, and i loved when a man said to to me, your doing a good job, mate, and i liked

when men said, keeping busy, mate, and when i said yes, they said good, good, and when i said hello to dad, dad just did a sigh old hi, saying, i was only

like him if i cleaned my house, and yes, i know it’s important to clean my house, so i have a cleaner come Monday mornings, but, i wish there were opportunities

out there, where i can show off my novels to important people, i don’t want any cats anymore, one reason, i can’t look after a cat very well, and i could see lots of

rats and mice in my flat, and i am scared of rats and mice, because of the disease factor, and animals to me, i find, could send me to the psych ward

i know cleaning my house is important, and getting rid of rodents, is a way to clean, you see, lately i say, i got to help the poor, every time i see a poor man

give him money, cause i am not a rich *****, and i am not, and i spend money to try and give me things, i like computers, i was using the computer as a place

to display all my previous life and current life anger, but dad looked at my stories, as not very nice, but i was expressing where my anger is coming from

i want to have novels written and ideas pushed over to television, now i don’t want a cat anymore, or a dog or a mouse or a rat, i prefer to keep myself from

buying any sort of animal, because every time i am asked to do something,like take care of a cat, i go crazy, and i get cranky, cause i haven’t got a perfect life

because my parents have twisted m thoughts around in my head, if i had someone to live with, or moved to another city, with the same services, i will feel good

about myself, because i would still get the cleaning done as well have carers and i need a job, i need a job, i want to show people how to write their problems out of them

i hate being treated like a girl from bay watch, getting kidnapped by old good mates because they fucken agree with parents ruling over their kids and i don’t

because i am going to get what i want and i am not aiming too high,my stories are good enough and even this story, please leave me alone, i want the perfect life

i crave the perfect life, and as long as i don’t buy a cat, i am fine
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
drumm drumm drummed in two
ranks of
auto-
filers whacking keys and levers and springs
slamming
edged
quantum of scripture
i e o u y vowels of no need-- back in cunieforming time
then came those monkeys with the typesetters
whose keys never got stuck
uno
marko per stroke
five 'undred per bit of etaoinshrdlu
click click cliche'
time measured by degrees in fractual
sym-metry wit' bio me

Tumeric kicks in,
eases the swelling of the bubble.

Imagine the imaginings of a child reading
funny papers
in the privy, smokin' grapevine for no

known reason, or,
maybe it appeased the flies, while I sat
upon the throne
in a tower of my own

wandering through memories of
Terry and the Pirates saving Dalai Lama
from the clutches of
the abomb-in-abled snowman,

Yet-i isis now, the Prince of Persia, once more?

No, this battle is not mine. This
war
was
won;

at that crossroad in Perry's Cafe
when the offer was made: star a footnote here
aster-risks have not been invented... we must reduce opacity.
histoical he refused the deal but  did Write the course
"The Internet in One Day"

work for hire, a good gig, then Netscape went public,

reality validated verification of the efficacy
of Feynman's reversible NAND gates,

the future was super positioned
No taxes, tarriffs or tithes; pay flat
twenty percent
for eighty in return, guaranteed in for by of
we, the people's adaptation to

Paredo's Principle versed in Solomonic Wisdom,
re-de-clearing no non new things
under the sun,
trial by

total emersion in a sea of green sans
yellah submarine,

acid etched re
collectibles dust and debris,
flotsam jetsome wetsome old girls dream

it's now, the future, 2019, and some
of us
survived the seventies in hiding,

we're back.
wee voices you ignore at your peril,

not every inspiration is from for by good.

Some are.
Some words live in the sounds they make,
hocus pocus
abra
cadabra, for instance... is heard by children

as the leaven-less wafer
transmogrifates at
the spoken words Hoc es Corpus

Genutim, non factum
magic
thinking is nothing like

what you thought, child.

The message is believable, the messengers
may
be otherwise. EH? ***-eye-say-- eee- eh?

Self-evidence is acceptible, take a hold,
get agrippa comprehension

sweet-almost
persuasive enough to mask the bitter
ever
after taste of century eggs left in the fridge too long

Biome, bio-me, self-effident-icacious
conch-ious
ness, ac
knowledged... these words lived
once,
the eggish-isms egging us on, go
on, only you...
not me, I'll wait
I've slipped, I've fallen... where's the beef? Was this a common quest?

1972. Sheizbomb, pirate orange sunshine.
1973. We reached escape velocity
1974. Trajectory changed
1975. Lost contact, she's near Cuyguna
1976. Prego
1977. Aha, the reason is born

Future 2019 will seem as real as you may
imagine. I promise,

Ever after, all, as real as you may
imagine. I promise

look, see self evident truth, act asif you know
and understand
angel talk

there remains a rest for the cadabre we inhabit,
"Dancing Queen" "Fernando"
Abba's body of disco hits, missed
by missing one decade and a half,

in sanct-if-ication vacation
to become a hermit when I grew old, if ever,

hoc corpus, eh, as long as faith remains
rememe-r-able post Sini-ification of Suffering,

(the Dragon from the East is not the beast
embodied in the west with golden head,
silver breast, brazen *****, iron legs
and flaking rusting feet of steel
stuck
in sludge ponds and stump ponds and undrained
swamps and sloughs {called wet lands by frogs and ducks})
Ah, so

The golden-green-blue dragons gracing slotmachines,
lure hopers to the slime, not
green Nickleodean slime, real slime from century eggs white
jelly gone dark, dark brown and stinky...

even if i'd tried, I'd never have imagined
eating a century egg
sans chewing, just
gulp
swallow it whole. Din't choke gk kg.

deja vu? no, you missed something.

waiting is being
Dalai Lama, half-scientist, half-otherwise aware
there, in exile,
remains hoping a peace past standing under the
acknowledging of good
and evil,

new mercies on one side, meaculpa, mea
maxima culpa,
on the other.

Who pays? Me or Jesu or the pariah one step
up from a cockroach?
Wait and see. Be still.

Don't ask Mother Teresa, she had no clue.
But she finished what she began,
that was her plan,

skip as much purgatory as abody can stand
imagining worth it all.

Me, says the hermit,
I took the grace Noah found. Wait and see. Get ready.

Google translate the Latin Mass, then imagine it
being a message you must hearken to

drum drumm drummmed into your brain before
your prefrontal
cortextual tester circuits formed and your responses

were ever etched
on the tables of your faith belivin' childheart,
sweetheart,

just think, what if good news gathering is
even-jelly-if I can. Evangelical, if I say-tion sugar pi,
event-tually we see, fine,
details, points to every true story

a bed of nails no liar may rest upon

'fi say so, semper fi.

{evangelicum laude graduates bher no bad news in ever}
--phi beta kappa, key that opens what?-- do you know

what meaning signals breathe? beat?

Take great gulping gasps of air,
affording your self
evident right

to surface, as a bubble you can breathe in.
I think we're alone now

there doesn't seem to be any one around, now

1977, that was four whole decades ago?

Right. And whenever you are, dear reader, this was
ever ago. I testify, I examined this life.

It has been worth the effort. Now I wait. Still.
Try it. Here, there,

no condemnation, the act it self just
is null-ift before asif goes whatif and we lose our value,

we balance madness. We work closely with Cleo,
she handles historical re visioning.

time out-- essential term screams for discretion, get to the grain---
What noise is this... mmmmm
Muse- muse- just, muse like
music, drummm drummm hummmmm
Define, fine, granularity, like salt or sand or sugar
but qualia
mysterium familiarus

Term definition. Lord means h'laf weardan, {Welsh}
warden,
protector of our bread,
by which man does not live alone,
owner of the tower in the vinyard where your captive enemies
languish in your wishless hate.

We wait,

we companions be, joined by the leaven from the sky

leaving footprints in granulated sugar salted sand,
feel it,

sorta sticky, like toe-jam. like mebbe toejam spreader
and the Walrus was
CS Lewis level mere signposts at degrees of little thinker
steps tick tic tic
spiraling
clock wise from up,
counter-clockwise from down

forward, ever onward, off is impossible in the land of on,
here for ever is
too much good stuff,

but that lasts (to the same level of qualia judgment degree)
mere mortal moments

flash. Here we be, wondering and wandering, to an fro,
to get a feel,

for real. This can't go on for ever, they say.
Shall we see, I say... as I passed away.
Life goes on, and no lie follows

Listen,
it's finished, that's all we need say. Live on. Be good,
or die trying. No lying about anything.

What if ever did begin and you simply failed to be aware?
Musing, as a pass time, not a wast of time nor a killing of time, but a use by right of time. This is my examined life. I find it worth living more loudly as I age. The ripeningin, reminds me of cheesy-ness.
Moby ****
may have been
a
big
       BIG
fish
and Ishmael
didn't have it so easy
But I need, I dream
of the epitome
of a flawless
                        ideal
                        ­          piece of whitefish

A Succulent Bite
                        A Taste of Right
Hand battered
                              Deep fried
A
crunch
into heaven
Mouth-watering
                                   yet light

Next to
              crisp
                        oh-so
          ­                         crisp
                                             fries


Draft Rootbeer
Foam
              in a mug
of delight

Mmmm Mmmmm
Seafood
See, this food
                           tastes like hope

Up North
I salivate
thinking of its
                              taste
thinking of
                           perfection

Man
Oh, Man
They don't make it
like this
anymore

So
      so
             fresh

This piece
Creates a sense
of peace

Harmony
on your palate

It turns
you up-turned nose







down
to the aroma
of a fisherman's skill

Natural Salt
of this world
                                brings you to a world
                                                           ­                  of pleasure
                                                      ­                                                 in a nibble
A coming together
on my plate

Skin-lined
Red Skin
potatoes

Frothy
Quenching
Rootbeer

                     ­                       Whitefish.

Simple Things
I found this fine trip

Combined with waterfall air
to breathe deep

My taste buds
had
gone up in
                                smoke.

My tongue
realized with
surprise
                                 *the possibilities of life.
This was written at a very
hungry
time in my life.

Copyright © 2010 Jacqueline Ivascu
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2014
yesterday may have been my birthday.

you need two hands, two feet,
a multiplication table
an abacus to count my years,
each finger, worth a decade.
each toe, perhaps, a century.

birthdays.

a point of inflection,
a point of opportunity,
a present presents itself,
to rewrite history.

a second coat of paint,
gift-wrapped in weak excuses.
how I lied, how I ain't,
grimm-fated fairy tales
somebody else created.

invisible suits of gold-cloth
worn to my party of
past rewrit and
future foretold.

one single thought,
memory,
seizes my heart,
as I fall to my knees.
cracks my temperate ease,
renders open the
woof and weave
of recycled deceptions,
causing all to be revealed
when asking myself

what if the poetry ceases?

you know prostrate?
you have tasted grief?

have you not but
a singular pain,
one act,
one deed,
one memorization,
act of cowardice,
act of desertion,
mistake made, taken,
for which
forgiveness
can never
be given,
be faked,
attained?

do, does, did.

let me then this day,
win the birthday lottery,
let floods of relief from
daily chores not drown me,
chauffeurs to drive,
masseurs to massage,
cooks to cook,
les délicieuses friandises to sweeten life,
please keep theologians, logicians,
philosophers on retainer,
even historians, those future fortune tellers,
if needed, unnecessary explanations -
or just satisfactory rationalizations.

none know,
or can provide,
still and yet,
a year round
a priestly sacred chord,
to grant relief,
absolution,
songs of hallelujah,
erasers of the ache of
perpetuity worry.

those ancient pains,
grow fresh daily,
the loss of one element
of my body,
prevents my primal knot
reasonably to be untied,
everything should be permitted
on my birthday, no?

this day, these days
breathe through words,
molecules of vowels,
stem cells of consonants,
the fabric, the tissues of life,
veins are a dictionary
of corpuscles,
red blood cells are
nouns of nutrients.


this day, these days,
the infection of my soul
is tempered, kept at bay,
tamped down from the
full flowering
of white blood cells
of rhyme, verse,
and asking myself

what if the poetry ceases?

though the bones creak,
snap, crackle and pop,
the body they carry, the heart
eccentric~centric: tire shop patched,
yom kippur white resurrected this day,
for morning, afternoon
and evening prayers,
and the last one special,
spoken standing.

thrice daily poetry I recite,
roses red, violets blue,
my marrow transfused.

though my prayers likely refused,
the poetry act immolates
the fringes of my disease,
for which the common cure
is not currently invented....
so I ask myself

what if the poetry ceases?

be assured, I am told
scientists hard at work,
on the forgive n' forget drug.

meantime,
take a bubble bath in
rosemary and mint,
trap and tap some words,
into your cell phone bone,
the poetry heat, scented waters,
provide aspirin relief.

through this poem,
on one day annual,
I am relieved, relived,
the muses, the Devils
all herein, feted, and sated

gone for few moments
concerns, worries of
exposure today,
agnostic's foxhole of hell
is dis-remembered,
the gloss returns,
the faux dispatched,

ain't birthdays grand?

yet, I cannot help but ask

what if the poetry ceases?

what rhymes with
Sorrow?
mmmmm.

could it be
Morrow?

bath drains,
rosemary and mint odors dismissed,
the Argentine disparu,
the Spanish Medievalists,
the Neo-Raphaelites,
all dispatched,
didn't they have birthdays too?
didn't you know,
Hey Michelangelo!
the Renaissance come
and gone,
nobody tole ya?

t'is the day
my sweet city recorded my
naissance in the
Hospital of the Flowers
on Fifth Avenue.

the 'crats put the datum
in the bureau with the
night creams and
the statistics
as follows:

on this day + a few,
seven or twenty decades ago +
a few centuries, some blackbirds,
a question was born,
and an ache that is
sometimes relieved,
by a poem~song.

though do not celebrate,
t'is a day to calibrate,
review, edit, tinker,
rewrite, often a stinker.

yet, but,
always one thought recycles:

**what if the poetry ceases,
how will I breathe?
Written years ago. Tinkered and edited once a year.
you see bob delahunty, one da7y developed this website, where he takes people on quests

to find out whether or not really exists, and first stop was jerusealum, where he spoke to a rabbi,

and bob asked the question does GOD exist, and the rabbi said, i can be your saviour where

whenever you need any answers, i can show you, ok,

after that, bob went to the BUDDHIST temple in taibet, and the buddhist nuns said, god is just

a couple of easy answers, we need people to understand that the answer is to mend every blade of grass

and bob left thinking mmmmm interesting, and the muslims said, god, there is no god, but there is mohammad,

and he is the same, as this GOD, and bob went away singing

god is the devil and the devil is bob

god is the devil and the devil is bob

god is the devil and the devil is bob

GOD, THE DEVIL, ANNNND BOB

the next part of bobs quest was going over to the catholic church and after 12 minutes of hearing the boring catholic morals

bob went over to the priest, how many children have you ****** today, and priest got offended in what bob asked, and through

bob outside, with the tune going, god is the devil and the devil is bob

god is the devil and the devil is bob

god is the devil and the devil is bob

GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB

bob was kicked out of every religious place in the world, so he decided to gather some religious freaks, to form his own religion

going out on the underground to meet different religious people on the street, first was wendy sweeeeet lips who was a ****** by night

nun and helper of the poor by day, and she was nice to bob, ands bob said, i can get a decent **** out of this pretty lady, time and time again

and when the nun was asked to leave the catholic church despite her keeping the ****** bit to herself, she decided to join BOB,  religion

by a man named bob, bob had this philosophy, no ugly wannabes, just **** legs and pretty faces

bob asked the ******-nun, do you think GOD exists, and they said, we don’t hate any religion, but, we hate catholics, because, their morals

are against our good work here, we don’t have a GOD, policy here, we are the face of the devil, but the devil brings happiness,

you know to angry *** crazed men, aren’t they needed to wipe off the angry look, and bob went away, who cares, and sang his song

god is the devil, and the devil is bob

god is the devil, and the devil is bob

god is the devil and the devil is bob

GOD THE DEVIL, WHO IS BOB

and bob said, who cares if i’m the devil

i don’t look at the symbol of jesus nailed to a cross being a symbol of peace

jesus exixts, but the way he is killed is the REAL DEVIL

BECAUSE, all together now


god is the devil, and the devil is bob

god is the devil, and the devil is bob

god is the devil, and the devil is bob

GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB
Edna Sweetlove Oct 2014
O let us sing a song of gorgeous British food
Roast beef, fish 'n' chips and lovely Brummy balti;
Some of it is bad and some of it is good
(and yummy TV dinners...Mmmmm... they're really salty).
But the finest treats are Findus beef lasagne
(with its extra secret subtle basinful of horse),
And ne'er forget a burger a la espa-na-ya,
(made from minced-up donkeys' genitals of course).

Britain's Chinese restaurants are also velly nice-y
They serve food so tasty, and so low in fat,
(and no one cares if Sichuan Chicken, hot 'n' spicy,
includes some choice cuts from your neighbour's missing cat).
School and hospital canteens, the gourmet paradise,
Serving pigswill on the cheap - obese kids know it's very nice.
Dory Nov 2013
cigarettes
diet mountain dew
and adderall mmmmm yeah
Olive Spectrum was a plain looking black woman in her 30's who lived a very plain life.  She always looked forward to Saturday.  A day she would spend at the Golden Scissors getting her hair done and talking with Jewel StoneWall her childhood friend.  When Saturday rolled around Olive hopped out of bed and got ready for her hair appointment.  On her way to the Golden Scissors Olive thought about how Jewel have been trying to get her to get Dreadlocks.  "Jewel said I should try something different.  I guess I'll be getting Dreadlocks" said Olive.  As Olive parked her red BMW in the parking lot of the Golden Scissors she noticed she was Jewel's first client.  Now only if it would stay like this thought Olive.  Opening the doors to the hair salon Olive saw Jewel sitting in her chair as if she was a client waiting to get her hair done.  "Jewel get off your lazy **** and get started on my hair" said Olive as she entered the Golden Scissors.  "Olive hush your mouth before I make you turn around and leave" said Jewel as she rose to her feet.  Rolling her eyes and waving her hands in the air Olive pranced over to Jewel and tugged on her hair.  "I've decided to let you dread my hair.  You're right It's time for a change" said Olive as she raked her fingers through Jewel's hair.  Placing her hands on her hips Jewel said "It's about time.  Place your **** in my chair so I can get started."  "Oh yeah I got a fish on the line" Olive told Jewel as she sat down.  Dragging the comb through Olive's hair Jewel says "Mmmm do tell Olive and don't leave nothing out."  "I won't and by the way dye the tip of my dreadlocks red.  This new face came in the bank today.  A tall good looking brother by the name of Akurra Wings.  He opened a checking and a saving account" said Olive.  As Jewel twisted Olive's hair she asked the question "Did you ask him out?"  "Not yet.  The next time he come in I'll ask" answered Olive.  "What does he look like?  C'mon Olive I need details" said Jewel.  "He's tall around six feet, light skin, and has a brush cut" said Olive.  "Mmmmm he sounds yummy.  Will you get in trouble if you date him?" asked Jewel.  "I don't think so and it's nobody business who I date" answered Olive.  With a concern look on her face Jewel says "I just want to make sure you don't get in trouble."  "Jewel we don't hang out that much any more.  We need to get together and do something" said Olive.  "With me working all the time Olive I don't have that much free time.  Because of who you are I'll make time" said Jewel.  When Jewel StoneWall finally got finished with Olive's hair it was 1:00pm.  "Take a look in the mirror Olive and tell me what you think" said Jewel as she took a step back.  Rising to her feet Olive looked in the mirror.  "Wow Jewel if I knew I looked this good with Dreadlocks I would have gotten them a long time ago" said Olive as she stared at herself in the mirror.  "What else are you doing today?" asked Jewel.  "I'm going shopping.  I need a new outfit" answered Olive as she paid Jewel for doing her hair.  "We'll get together Olive.  Just let me move things around on my schedule" said Jewel.  "Yeah sure Jewel" said Olive.  Getting back in her car Olive drove to the clothing store New Fashions.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
This is GREEN Chapter Two.  A gangster love story.
Vampyre Kato May 2016
Feminine Energy Keeps Me Alive
If I Do Not Have It
I Think IMA Die
Passion Projects They Feel Me Inside
Swimimg With Women
I'm Into Their Eyes
Where
Desries A Fire Admire Their Vibe
She's In My Wings
Her HandS On My Side
Holding Me Tight
I'm Deep In Her Thighs
Gaze DeepIn Her Eyes
Is She Singing & Dreaming
I think Its A Cry
Electric Just Fly's
I Need This Every A Mmmmm
All Through The Night
Women Come To My Light
I Brighten Their Sea
Pressed Tight On Her Jeans
Her Pace
Our Space In Outer Space
That's All I Need
Romance Hold Hands For Weeks
Women Say They Get Excited
Hard To Breathe Around Me
Its That Speechless Passion
You Know What I Mean
IMA Put In Slow
I Don't Want To Hear Screams
Ill Be Patient If Its Hard To Take It
Electric Shocks From A lot No Blocks
When Were Naked
Home Don't Feel Like Home
I Project My Passion ,Pain , Happiness In Rain
In All Poems
I Want To Hug You In The Snow
I Want To Give You My Jacket Wrap You In The Cold
Its You That I Adore
Under An Oak At The Mourge
As Rain Pours & Our Passion Turn The Rain More Into A Rain Storm
With A Gentle Romance Love Breeze
We Can Gaze At The Rainbows Rays & The Leaves That Pass We As We Proceed To Be In Unity
I'm Only Deep Still High As Peaks
My twin Soul Flame
How Much Space Is In Between
I Awake From Lucid Dreams
Looking For You
All I Feel Is Me
I Can Feel You So Close
This Sensation Can't Be A Ghost
I See Your Name On The Page
In The Sage When It Smokes
I Don't Even Drink
Although Wine Toast
Once A Week
I Feel The Connection
Blossom It Is Awesome
Flowers Roses On Trees
Every Time I See Purple &Pin;;
I Feel Blue For You Ooh
Come To Me
Geno Cattouse May 2014
We play a game kinda like show and tell crossed with peekaboo my beauty and l.

The RULES.
at the end we will both have a happy ending.

Smell,touch,taste. Wait. Wait.

Listen,hear answer.

Smile, laugh,repeat.

slow,fast,slow.

Fast,slow,fast.

Look onto each other's eyes

Feel the love inside.
See. I tell her that I love her and then I tell her why.

I listen to her beating heart.
I know the echo and cadence
Like the tips of her fingers every swirl unique.
She is facinated with my Adam's apple
I get it.
I turn off the lights and draw the blinds....black as pitch. I find her by her.anxious.breathing.
I find her with my heart..my mind...my senses.

I savour her and build my memories  brick.by.brick,stone.
Despair ever so briefly
All is fleeting and.then she makes love to me.
Slow.
Fast.
Slow.
Repeat my sweet. Repeat.
Kagey Sage Oct 2015
A gray cat with a white tummy sat upright in his owner’s living room. Yet, it was his living room, too he thought. Though he only perceived the lower half of their bodies, Tom felt he had fooled the humans into relinquishing nearly all their luxuries to him. Their food, their sitting spots, their sleeping spots. Yet, the humans would not let Tom enjoy these luxuries in complete freedom. Sometimes, when Tom laid on the couch or in the bed, he was kicked onto the floor - but that wasn’t the worst of it.  Whenever Tom put together a sandwich using every single item available in the kitchen, Tom’s owner’s plucked the violin strings clear out of him, with broom whacks and concrete body slams.

“No food until you catch that mouse, ya stupid cat!” they’d yell.

Some nights - as he watched his beneficiaries drive off to the opera nightclub - Tom pondered his predicament. So if I catch this mouse, I get free reign over the house. He thought. Unlimited fridge access and legendary furniture spots. Mmmmm. Better catch me a mouse. Tom chuckled.
            
Mice came and went throughout the house, but one always remained. Jerry. In fact, all of the mice coming through the house only came over to chill with Jerry!

Tom stooped low to the ground in a pounce and placed his eyes millimeters from Jerry’s pint sized stance. Jerry felt as though he was pierced by a slew of razors. When Tom quickly relaxed his gazed and let out an enormous sigh.

“There is no magic ideal is there Jerry? ”Tom asked “We’re enchantingly random. Just automatic creatures with base desires. I hunger in the void, so I still want nothing more than food from the human fridge.  In this universe, and a number more, I will pursue what seems the easiest means to human food, whether hunch or trick, or, right or wrong.”
As Olive Spectrum lay on the floor at Club Envy with her lungs burning and filling up with blood from being shot by an unknown person.  She thought her life would never end like this.  Olive's tears started to flow as she thought of the years she spent slithering with snakes.  Her job at the BNB Bank made it easy to launder money for the Black Crime Syndicate.  It was six years ago in the month of June that her life took a downward spiral.  Upset at the thought of being late for work Olive floored the gas pedal.  As she passed by the slow moving drivers weaving in and out of traffic.  Olive hoped she didn't get a ticket.  I just had to stay up late watching the marathon of Funny Man.  Now I got to race the clock and pray I don't get stopped by the police.  Thought Olive as she sped past the other drivers.  As Olive Spectrum pulled into the BNB parking lot she checked the time.  "It's 7:55am.  I made it within five minutes" said Olive.  Getting out of her car Olive walked through the bank's glass doors.  As the time passed the employees of BNB got the bank ready for the public.  One of the three people that arrived at the time of opening was a new face.  Mmmmm yummy thought Olive as she walked up to the tall light skin man.  "Hello sir how can I help you?" asked Olive as she eyed the man up and down.  "My name is Akurra Wings.  I would like to open a checking and a savings account" answered the tall light skin man.  "Mr. Wings please follow me to my office" said Olive.  As Olive and Akurra sat in Olive's office filling out papers Olive made it up in her mind that she would get to know Akurra on a personal level.  After a day's work Olive got behind the wheel of her BMW and started her drive home.  On her way home Olive called her best friend Jewel StoneWall.  "Hello Jewel how are you?" asked Olive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding her cellphone.  "I'm doing great Olive.  What's up?" answered Jewel StoneWall as she did one of her client's hair at her salon the Golden Scissors.  "Are we still on for Saturday?" asked Olive.  With a confused look on her face Jewel ask "Is the day Friday already?"  "Yeah girl what day did you think it was?" responded Olive.  "To tell you the truth Olive I thought the day was Thursday" said Jewel.  "No Jewel it's Friday.  I'm glad I have a friend who owns a hair salon" said Olive.  "You better be thankful.  I'll talk with you later Olive" said Jewel.  "Ok bye Jewel" said Olive.  Olive Spectrum was a plain looking black woman in her 30's who lived a very plain life.  She always looked forward to Saturday.  A day she would spend at the Golden Scissor getting her hair done and talking with Jewel StoneWall her childhood friend.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
This is a gangster love story.

— The End —