"nair" poems
****** fantasies can be quite
A desire.
Would it be best to do it with your
Secret admirer,
Or just a **** dude?
Would you call it rude
If you showed up at his house
****
Having conversations about your
Tide tubes?
Is it true?
While time pushes by.
Is it real?
He sexing you and cutting you
Off like a deal
Will your heart heal?
Your fantasy desires coming
True,
With a man heart cold like
Steel.
Think about it,
Take a moment and think.
Not every man loves you.
Next min he’s there and the next
He’s gone like nair.
Babygirl it’s not love, its lust.
-Marci H.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
#
*The Muse of Whimsy has arrived.
I really feel the need
To take a break from poignant
and my impish humor feed.
A silly prank's in order
so I'll leave some noggin bear
By filling up their shampoo bottle
with a cup of hair removal "Nair".
I'll put a rubber hot dog
in some hungry knot head's bun.
Watching his expression
should be worth a lot of fun.
Humiliation is a blast
when dignity is lost.
If someone's feelings are the price.
well then it's worth the cost.
Somebody always loses
if your heart is made of stone
Laughter is contagious
but leave well enough alone.
Compassion is the brakes you use
when things get out of hand.
Laugh, but pass the laughter on
then most people will understand.*
#
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
I use to laugh at ironic things
No punishment for the bad deeds
The Bible says that good 10 fold
The universe returns to us in gold
That fairytales and nursery rhymes
Exist to scare and keep us in line
But on this day fate stepped in
And karma it seems is a comedian
A lesson weaved throughout every line
Carefully crafted as a warning sign
It was a day like any other
As usual jumped in the shower
Quickly washed and rinsed my hair
Noticed too late that it was NAIR!
Every luscious lock and strand
Fell out completely in my hand
What seems like a sick joke being played
Or demented parts a malicious prank
A plot unfolded my part the lead
The lines straight from a horror scene
Like laws of nature or earths gravity
The rules we bend to suit our need
Like a boomerang’s invisible path
It seems to follow when it comes back
Even the ocean and it’s changing tides
Needs the moon’s persuasive side
We are the keepers of what we seek
And what we sow we indeed will reap
The nightmare that we fear the most
Comes back to haunt us like a ghost
Like Peter Pan and Captain Hook
Just a good story in a children’s book
what if the earth gets bored of us
And decides that we are entertainment
those characters we read as kids
Like Pinocchio or the 3 little pigs
Sleeping beauty or the ogre Shrek
You thought was funny as a sketch
Brought to life would pose a threat
Although to you this seems far fetched
The truth Ive written has not been stretched
I hope you read this and know as fact
What you put out there will soon come back
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
*Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun*
It was silent. His body sunk into the earth.
His soul long gone from there. He had died
A gun upon his arms.
*When they come a wull staun ma groon
Staun ma groon al nae be afraid*
He had died with a home that his dream would
live on.
*Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear
Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears*
Later they had told us he had died with courage
and valor.
*Ains a year say a prayer faur me
Close yir een an remember me*
The shots continue he fell by the
tenth.
*Nair mair shall a see the sun
For a fell tae a Germans gun*
A ******** grasped in his stone
cold hand
*Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun*
He saw a line of faces, brown, black
and white. Some were smiling others,
crying
*Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun*
His body sunk into the cold, wet ground
As God opened his arms, for a boy
drenched in blood.
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
A group waited in the wings. Soldiers
from many places. Who fought to keep
their shores safe.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
Almost
by Michael R. Burch
We had—almost—an affair.
You almost ran your fingers through my hair.
I almost kissed the almonds of your toes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
You almost contemplated using Nair
and adding henna highlights to your hair,
while I considered plucking you a Rose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost found the words to say, “I care.”
We almost kissed, and yet you didn’t dare.
I heard coarse stubble grate against your hose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
You almost called me suave and debonair
(perhaps because my chest is pale and bare?).
I almost bought you edible underclothes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost asked you where you kept your lair
and if by chance I might ****** you there.
You almost tweezed the redwoods from my nose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
We almost danced like Rogers and Astaire
on gliding feet; we almost waltzed on air ...
until I mashed your plain, unpolished toes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost was strange Sonny to your Cher.
We almost sat in love’s electric chair
to be enlightninged, till our hearts unfroze.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
Keywords/Tags: Almost, love, lost love, loss, lost, relationship, relationships, hesitation, procrastination, hesitancy, vacillation, near, near miss, nearly, close call, miss you, missing you, missing, loneliness, lonely
Jan 6, 2022
Jan 6, 2022 at 8:54 AM UTC
O sing in me muses
a tale of some beauty.
Beauty, meaning longing and sorrow
and love that leads to a ****** bitter demise.
Let me feel the cold sweats,
those breathy, exhaustive evenings
filled with the scent of sweet ripend fruits
and slowly drying paints.
I want to be an inspiration for a piece to hang forever
in limbo
in galleries
in Midwestern living rooms.
I want to hang from branches in olive groves,
purely Greek
but with Nair and Netflix,
making sweet love to the ideals of ancient existence
while surviving the blackest of plagues
(modern immune systems are a Godsend).
Sing deeply into my rib cage, O muses,
so that my bone marrow may vibrate to the point of explosion
causes fragments of calcium to pierce skin
and make beautiful stained glass on the hill side chapels.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
"yeah... i know who took my money too. that ***** pyper, it doesnt take a rocket scientist to figure it out she jumped up to defend herself as soon as i said something." Madison replied tiredly, taking a ciggarette out and lighting it as she sat on the her black canopy bed. a picture of marilyn monroe and kurt cobain hanging on her bedroom wall. "so, what are your plans for revenge?" Cassie raised an eyebrow. "i'm debating on whether i should put raid in her perfume bottle, or nair in her shampoo." Madison replied casualy as she stared out of her bedroom window. "isnt raid poisonus?" cassie questioned.
"yep." Madison shook her head and grinned.
"she is a cockroach, seems pretty fitting to me..." she continued.
"hmmm... what about, pepper spray in her face wash?" Cassie replied with her hand upon her chin.
"i think i like the way you think cassandra motts." Madison smiled sadisticly, an evil twinkle in her eye.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
daylight drear is about to smear its shear vastness onto me out of fear causing me to fancy that i seem a little queer when i cheer without a leer so sincere it could cause a tear so near to the new year with my fellow peers who bought their gifts at sears. 30% off.
we learned fast from all those days past how to make the little things last cause being chaste didn't stop him from raising a mast in those early morning shadows cast. even grown men have *** dreams.
now they rise at dawn like a poor little faun who could have gone to pawn a thumb of a *** instead of go and con a con man named stan who was too tan and without a fan who woke late to find a ***** pan and could longer say yes I can within such a short span. Franklin could have been right.
As I listened to cher i saw a bear with no hair but he didn't seem to mind so I didn't seem to care for i was going to the fair good thing i bought nair to handle all that should be bare when I share my pear stolen from the mare who would only stare at the **** hair who turned out to be too slow and failed his dare.I've heard of boys who want to look good too.
now I have a light for each new night I get a small sight of the handsome man within the mirror who was bright from many years aflight kind of like a kite just with a little more might and with out such fright as the blight where you have to put up some sort of fight which is no good at such a height where things get a little tight alright. so back off a bit.
She was a ten okay ben did you put the baby in the pen don't worry about the hen she'll be fine with all those men. One of their names is, bob, from accounting.
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 12:29 PM UTC
I threw away the Nair
and stopped shaving.
Bye Brazil
So long Landing Strip
Strip–tease...oh please what a joke
There aint gona be no,
de-forest–tation
Do I hear pro-tes-tations of a whole nation
hair craze?
in a daze?
Fanatics about hair?
Yelling and screaming about down there?
Well hell, that's just too **** bad.
cuz I'm going in
an livin in
an growin a
Jungle
So big so wide...
so Free
no more shavin for me.
And what did the men do?
What men?
Where are they?
Guess they are lost in the jungle.
They lovin it in there.
Aug 16, 2025
Aug 16, 2025 at 4:55 PM UTC
The trees still green, I wonder how ?
The plants and bushes that grow on the ground
The green fresh look they still seem to have
After all these humans, don’t give a d*mn
The dust in the air, taking away the charm
The fresh green leaves,
I still wonder how
But I see them grey-
In a few years from now
With all pollution
That will take over the world
Grey will be the color
Of the leaves
Children will learn the color grey as
The color of the leaves
The color of the sky
The color of the air we breathe
Nothing seems to be fresh
Nothing seems to be a beautiful sight
We now as individuals, must do our part
To help these plants stay fresh and green
For the years to come they should
Be a wonderful sight to see—
The color of these leaves
Must be Beauty Green
~Athira Nair
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 9:30 AM UTC
America is an idea
that "all men are created equal,"
with working definitions of "human", "created", or "equal."
America is freedom for our grandchildren
in a manner we will never understand.
It is the founding fathers who died for liberty.
It is the darker brothers who fought for justice from kitchens and pulpits.
It is the poor, the huddled masses,
And their children who have forgotten this.
It is green cards that become blue passports.
It is unlearning the language of our grandparents.
It is knowing how to pronounce Arkansas and Illinois
It is enjoying barbecues on somber national holidays.
It is unbridled enthusiasm.
It is unbridled arrogance.
It is rugged individualism;
It is passionate paternalism.
It is hellfire that scorches deserts.
It is a gust that has fanned flames.
It is a cool rain that puts out fires.
From sea to shining sea--
It is Manifest Destiny
from Louis and Clark to Wounded Knee.
It is Topaz, and McCarthy,
and hundreds of things we would rather forget.
It is D-day, and Neil Armstrong,
and thousands of things we forget to celebrate.
America is a dream that rings from the red hills of Georgia
to the curvaceous slopes of California
to New York Island.
It is patriotism;
it is progress.
It is the blind worship of our past.
It is red. It is blue.
It is red, white, and blue.
It is what half of us say it isn't.
I say it evolves constantly;
others say it was created in His image.
It is everything I hold dear;
it is everything that infuriates me.
It is the warmth that makes my eyes tear
when I hear the Star Spangled Banner
at football games,
on July 4th,
or on September 11th.
It is hope.
It is the promise of a better tomorrow.
It is what ever I am.
I, too, am America.
*I have posted this to another website under the pen name Anamika Nair. I wasn't sure if this was okay. If it isn't, I can submit something else.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
Thy beard
thy hairy chest
whence once
waxed I loved
thy forehead now
one eyebrow dense.
Thy woven nest
so thick a moss a forest
so numerous, I can not
see the trees.
Thy scisssors and razor broke
No Nair nor candle left,
I can no longer tend you.
I have weaved those armpits for
the last time,
you need
a riding mower.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Body bagged sleep disorder
Picked up in a house out west
Lived out through a tape recorder
Moving on at the owner’s request
Dream deprived in a timely pit
Progeny separated at the request of the kids
Knife turned friend in the heat of a fit
Rectification sold to the first one who bids
Delusions through insomnia of potential bliss
Fractured into reality on a nightly affair
Putting too much worth behind more than a kiss
Cleaned up afterglow with a bit of Nair
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Wanderers a wandering
She cut off her hair
a beauty still pondering
“Who I dare to love me fair? but they love me nair, and I care, I care”
Is all her years, her youth wasted
for all the kisses she could’ve tasted
none are as bittersweet, as the love she can never have
Her worth is always half empty
the glass is smashed, against her carcass
the broken shard, to her wrist
You’ll find broken open bodies
scorched by the empty words
persona, persona, worship her like the holy Madonna
But you have killed her!
White garments adorn her loveless flesh
A beauty to be fed unto saints sufferings
the sacrament was never christ’s body!
Where art love, her love!
Lord grant her a love, give her a love
A beauty wandering, pondering, dying!
These mind takes a cancer of all its own
It is time for the pyre
They build her stake higher
They burn fires
Bound her to the stake
a heart so fit to break
within monsters are to awake
burn her alive or drown her in a lake!
She is silver chained, you possess the spark
she is the sacrifice
The god of fire commands it
The loveless beauty, of wine and bread
will dine in ashes this night
Biblical lilith for his lapping tongues
You light her! She screams!
Arch for my lover doth **** me!
My beauty is scorched, tis ashes!
My eyes now blackened, no more blues
No more beauty for my dearest has tied me to the wickerman
He hath taken the torch to my flesh
He watches on as the flames have my body
The body, the love never good enough for him
Is for the flames, for I am his Joan
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
She wanted
12.01.15
Nandini Nair
She wanted to run
Run from the monster inside her
Who everyday
Told her
She was a failure
She was unloved
She wanted to go
Go away from the creature inside her
The one who told her
She was a burden
She was pathetic
She wanted freedom
From those bonds
That held her down to
The monster she had created
She wanted to run
Run away
Before the monster she knew
Pulled her back down .
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
And so I paint my toes
And powder my nose
Coat my lashes
And the camera flashes
Curl my hair
Time for nair
All very necessary
As well as shoes and accessories
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 12:45 AM UTC