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David Sollis Oct 2014
Flimsy, flouncy little nightie
Which doth cling e'er so tightly
To your pendulous, saggy ****
And your smelly hairy bits
Keeping all just out of sight
Through the hours of the night
Covering things so unsightly
Thank god for that little nightie
Halynn Oquendo Sep 2016
"This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did ***-***
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.

She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant ****** drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.

She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.

In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending."
-Marge Piercy
Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.
I'm the queen of this condition.
I'm an expert on making the trip
and now they say I'm an addict.
Now they ask why.
WHY!

Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keeping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour *****.
I'm on a diet from death.

Yes, I admit
it has gotten to be a bit of a habit-
blows eight at a time, socked in the eye,
hauled away by the pink, the orange,
the green and the white goodnights.
I'm becoming something of a chemical
mixture.
that's it!

My supply
of tablets
has got to last for years and years.
I like them more than I like me.
It's a kind of marriage.
It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside
of myself.

Yes
I try
to **** myself in small amounts,
an innocuous occupatin.
Actually I'm hung up on it.
But remember I don't make too much noise.
And frankly no one has to lug me out
and I don't stand there in my winding sheet.
I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie
eating my eight loaves in a row
and in a certain order as in
the laying on of hands
or the black sacrament.

It's a ceremony
but like any other sport
it's full of rules.
It's like a musical tennis match where
my mouth keeps catching the ball.
Then I lie on; my altar
elevated by the eight chemical kisses.

What a lay me down this is
with two pink, two orange,
two green, two white goodnights.
Fee-fi-fo-fum-
Now I'm borrowed.
Now I'm numb.
Ata Apr 2015
The pink little nightie
as a kiss of a rose
made of the velvet lips
The lace woven
by the dew petals
misting the perfect body
The straps blew off
by the lover's tenderness
exposing the buds of amour
as goddess  of Venus
The softness melts shame
appearing the greediness of thirst
quenching the touch of delight
Ayeshah Mar 2010
They touched and caressed,So close and so intimately.
She decided she had enough of feeling awkward
and took control over the situation.
Kala said I notice you been looking at me lately
a little differently and I wanted to know why?
Ai'yahna  let out a little sigh.
Well ever since I kissed you
in the elevator at work things
just hasn't been the same,
Yes I know we kissed
and touched like this but are you only  
bi curious or are you really into me?
Kala said  I wont lie this is my first time
doing anything even close to this.
I've never thought of it before
but I like how I feel when you touch me.
Ai'yahna Says you know I've been thinking
about you for a long long time
now and for me it's different.  
Let me show you what I mean.
Ai'yahna kissed  Kala's  forehead,
the bridge of her nose, than teased
her mouth open as she pulled her head by,
by pulling gently on her hair.  
Ai'yahna Moaned into her mouth as they deepened the kiss,
Sitting in the living room had started
out with champagne and dinner,
a girl's night out.
They're both wearing lingerie
Ai'yahna had on a baby doll nightie,
red&pin;;,
Kala's wearing a blue and purple short set
their toe's have the french tips and pedicure
from earlier when they went to the salon to get a full do up.
Ai'yahna  slides one hand in Kala's top
as she feels her up and down than squeezes
Kala's breast.
Kala bits on her lower lip and tries not to like it so much.
She feel weird but can't understand whats coming over her.
Ai'yahna  than stared kissing her neck biting as
She went further down toward Kala's cleavage,
Kala was only 5'2" with a slim waist and a big ***,
Her breast were about 36.C
Ai'yahna liked her ladies shorted than her 5'7 thick frame,
she too had a big ***, bigger than
Kaala's & her breast were about a 38-40.B
but she didn't have that tiny waist like Kala
She was thick not a big girl but far from small of course
Ai'yahna worked out about
4 to 5 times a day every time she took her
break and for about an hour for lunch.
Ai'yana didn't look butch she carried her weight
well and had a very feminine side
to her just like Kala, the difference's between them was
Everywhere Kala was soft
Ai'yahna was hard tone and firm,
But unlike a man she still had that femininity
about hr and she was still muscular like a woman
should be not counting her arms of course.
Kala started caressing Ai'yahna's back as
Ai'yana moved slowly down Kala's body
Kala couldn't help what Ai'yahna was doing to her,
She felt like she was burn up from the inside out,
Her desire caused her confusion
she shouldn't like it so much but OH God it felt so good,
She'd never been touched kissed
or licked like this by man or woman
and Yes she's dated a chick before
but they never went this far.
Ai'yahna licked
Kala's navel and midriff she teased and taunted her with her hair,
her fingers and teeth,
Up and down and all across her body,
Kala was looking her mind
she tried hard to fight the feelings
that were coming over her,
She wanted to stop it but couldn't form
the words all that came out was a little sigh.
As Ai'yahna moved further down  her body she tensed,
Readying herself for what was about to happen,
Ai'yahna kised than gently bit  down on
Kala's mound right  at the base of her ****,
she than used her teeth to take off
Kala's shorts as she was doing this
Kala began to play with Ai'yahna's ****,
squeezing her ******* with her two
fingers and pulling gentle, than
Kala grabbed a handful and slowly caressed each one
massages and teasing Ai'yahna.
Kala slid one finger inside
Ai'yahna's mouth when she was done taking her shorts off
than pulled her finger out and slid it into her own *****
Teasing Ai'yahna.
Kala said
Watch me and let me watch you,
Ai'yahna slowly danced as she undressed for Kala,
She moved so graceful like a ballerina.
Ai'yahna sat on the bear skin rug and started to
also playing with her own *****, She slowly putting
two-fingers in very very slowly until they were
filling up her hole. she moved them in and out
and Kala watched while taking one hand
and moving it in circle around her ****,
letting the other fingers slide in and out of her *****,
She took them out then shoved them deep
inside herself while Ai'yahna
watched  with abandon desire in her eyes.
Ai'yahna stood up and walked over to where
Kala was sitting on the couch.
She picked her up easy and laid
Kala down on the bear skin rug.
Spreading her legs far apart
Ai'yahna than licked  Kala's hole as
Kala continued to play with herself,
Ai'yahna moved her hands and held
them both above her head with just one
of her own hands while using the other to tease in
and out of Kala's *****.
She knew Kala would probably
put up a fight and she knew too that Kala liked it rough.
Ai'yahna thought to her self she may not be a man
but she'd make t work to have this beautiful woman
as her very own and do her best to please her.
It was so **** hard competing with men
for bi carious women.
Kala did in fact struggle and cried out as she felt
Ai'yahna penetrate her ***** to it's very core,
she likes it rough but wow this was so different
and it felt good more than it hurt-ed.
Ai'yahna ****** on her **** so hard
and bobbed her head up and down like
she was ******* on a **** she liked
and ****** insider her hole
taking her hands away just to spread her open
teasing her ***** as she slide in 2 fingers stretching her hole
and making her tense up as the pressure built and built inside Kala.
Just as Kala was about to ****** and *** her boyfriend walks in.
Neil didn't know what to say at the scene he just walked in on
his chick and another girl was on his floor going at it
and from what he could see the other chick had her fingers
and mouth on his chicks *****.
He could tell Kala was *******
from that sweet look on her face.
She always bit down hard
on her bottom lip to keep from
screaming while she was *******.
It turned him on yet he was fuming ,
To him it was some what like cheating and
His lady would pay for this one way or another.
She pushed up and away from the other woman
and the other woman just smiled and said Hey.
how are you I'm Ai'yahna,
She stood up licked her finger
than ****** one her index and
extended her hand to him.
Neil just looked at the both of them.
He studied Kala's sweet angelic face
as she watched the floor.
He than looked at this
Ai'yahna chick and smiled
she was almost as tall as him well
close enough to suit what he had just thought to do.
He liked her build and her athletic frame,
she still had to look up at him and he liked that a whole lot,
He said Hi. I'm Neil ,Kala's boyfriend....,
Baby he said to Kala.
I knew you had asked about doing this
but I never thought you'd really do it,
I'm shocked,
Kala says sweetie before you go off
please listen.
He laughs and says,
NO you listen.
Kala thought she was in for it now
and looked at the floor again while he talked.
Neil says I want in&right; now!
Ai'yahna smiles while Kala's mouth's drops open,
Neil's stripping and He watches his chick
just stands there with her mouth hanging open.
Ai'yahna walks up to Kala and starts
kissing her passionately.
She than bends down on her knees
and starts lick and again ******* on
Kala's ****,
Ai'yahna than again slide her fingers in Kala's  *****.
Neil walks right up to Kala and grabs her head saying
"**** my ****".
Kaala laughs and does what Neil asked of her to do.
She stops and says wait.
"No" is All Ai'yahna says and
her and Neil pick up
Kala and laying her down again on the bear skin rug.
Ai'yahna again starts her sweet torture on
Kala's ***** while Neil  stuck
his **** a little roughly inside
Kala's mouth.
Kala **** hard and
deep throats
Neils **** taking it all inside
as he rides her face.
He hold the sides of her face as
he pushes his **** in and out her mouth.
TO BE CONTINUED!!!!!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
the day when my uncle ray became sunday rose kidman urban




you see when my uncle ray pocock died in 2006, buddha was having a hard time trying to put him in

another family, and then uncle ray asked cronus to force keith urban to have *** with niciole kidman

to create a new life, and ray has been trying to search for a way to enter nicole’s body, it was like a

blessing for my uncle ray, you see my grandma who died in 2004, 2 years before ray, decided to

hold a sunday roast when her family went to bed, you see they had methane plants and chicken

and potatoes, and uncle ray decided to die and enjoy this sunday roast of the cosmos, ya know like help make it

and my grandma said, ray, how about when you reenter this world, your earth bodies name will be sunday rose

but you will force barry to hate the name, trying to explain that it sounds like sunday roast, which is cooked by me

and then my grandma invited cronus and buddha and athena to the sunday roast, so that uncle ray can be reincarnated

into nicole’s ******, with the help of keith and when they did the initial bit, it was a good wait, and then in 2008, sunday rose

was born, and it was ray pocock, and ray brought on the roast in her name, sure ray is a girl in his current life, but whether

he is a she or vice versa, it doesn’t matter, you see from the day that sunday was born and then named, this was going to

be a bumpy ride, seeing that ray pocock was a reverend, and died to be apart of the celebrity life, you see from that day ray and

my grandma has been hosting a big nightie conference with the whole family, to reform violence in the family unit, and ray brought

barry allan up there to get him to change the way he talks to brian, and also ray would invite nicole and keith in to meet his

previous life’s family, you see as nicole and keith are preparing to be good parents to their two kids sunday and faith, and ray

was given a job as our family’s joining, so he can make sure we are alright, and that is why sunday rose, is just walking around with keith and

nicole instead of being big youtube junkies, you see they were famous, but they wanted to be there for sunday and faith, for every turn

of their lives, ray was brought toward nicole in a party on jupiter and they bonded, just like mother and daughter, and ray went to buddha

and said, i want to be nicole kid man’s daughter, i want to learn how a famous person goes about living their lives, i like to bring barry allan

closer to liking the famous way of life, and i want to be named sunday roast, and force barry to get puzzled, so the name was not very long away

as the name was sunday rose and then ray was given the new life and buddha and cronus said i now pronounce nicole and keith’s new daughter

as sunday rose kidman urban and in the rose, r meaning ray and o as the second letter of pocock, but nicole and keith has a better meaning to the word

rose, and now sunday rose is 7 years of age, and ray pocock is considering himself the new GOD, flying around keeping all the families together, but the

problem is, families aren’t perfect as we are still having kids being kidnapped and people being stabbed or murdered, and ray has a lot to do

and another thing ray wants to do, is reform brian allan, by getting into his mind and telling people what is going on, even if it destroys other families

but if it destroys the family, ray explains to brian to write with a messed up brain, so you don’t reveal much about what cronus is doing, but if it makes

you as messed up as a hooligan, you must tell, and expect people not to like it, and then ray said, he is the NEW GOD, he is trying to keep domestic violence

and aggression out of his old family, now every time a picture of sunday rose goes on the internet, you can feel that ray pocock is at peace, you see sunday

is enjoying her life on earth, and i suggest to nicole and keith, that they have a little angel amongst them, and this was the sort of angel to lure brian away from

his old mate, because he was too negative, and from that moment  brian’s mate was getting panic attacks, and ray and ivy forced brian not to help him, as

he was a little negative ****, and he needed to stand on his own two feet, as ray got another mate to tease him and getting another mate to make ******* comments

driving him mad, and ray knew this was a hard job, so he made brian rave on about sunday rose and forced a conversation about when celebrities have babies

and then ray teased my mate, by making him think he controlled the world, to, i don’t know, lure him away from brian, because brian was trying to keep positiveness

with his mate, and then as it was hard to get his new mate out of his life, ray pocock forced an old friend to tease brian in his mind, treating brian like a little negative ****

to get rid of his negative friend, so that ray, can enjoy life as sunday rose and ivy can enjoy life as annie from brattayley and lucky can be baby **** and barry can enjoy life

as betty campbell, and not worry about, brian’s stupid mate unleashing his negativity onto brian, because what ray was thinking, brian would be positive without his mate

constantly around sprouting negativity in his head, and hopefully find out what brian really wants to do to keep positive, and one thing brian likes to do, is write out his hooligan

and cronus is a hooligan, because he is old, and brian needs to tell us all what is going on with cronus, to clear his mind, and one thing is, to never have brian and his mate dan

walk past and ray pocock is watching over his old family as well as watching over his new earth body sunday rose
Ata Apr 2015
The June night wears the moonlight scarf
perfuming it with the peony's presence
The gardenia's petals kiss its satin
The nasturtium's fingers lace its orange straps
The summer lust blows it away
"Beep-beep.
BANKERS TRUST AUTOMOBILE LOAN
You'll find a banker at Bankers Trust"
Advertisement in N.Y. Times

When comes my second childhood,
As to all men it must,
I want to be a banker
Like the banker at Bankers Trust.
I wouldn't ask to be president
Or even assistant veep,
I'd only ask for a kiddie car
And permission to go beep-beep.

The banker at Chase Manhattan,
He bids a polite Good-day;
The banker at Immigrant Savings
Cries Scusi! and Olé!
But I'd be a sleek Ferrari
Or perhaps a joggly jeep,
And scooting around at Bankers Trust,
Beep-beep, I'd go, beep-beep.

The trolley car used to say clang-clang
And the choo-choo said toot-toot,
But the beep of the banker at Bankers Trust
Is every bit as cute.
Miaow, says the cuddly kitten,
Baa, says the woolly sheep,
Oink, says the piggy-wiggy,
And the banker says beep-beep.

So I want to play at Bankers Trust
Like a hippety-hoppety bunny,
And best of all, oh best of all,
With really truly money.
Now grown-ups dear, it's nightie-night
Until my dream comes true,
And I bid you a happy boop-a-doop
And a big beep-beep adieu.
Aya Baker Sep 2013
he paints me
reading a book in my faded nightie
lounging on the armchair with a daisy in my hair
huddled by the window looking at the cars passing by
he never lets me see them.

i write of him
padding around our apartment in bunny slippers and
blue plaid boxers
thanking the people who buy his paintings
wiping the lenses of his glasses with the hem of his shirt
saving the world
i never let him read them.

we share
a tiny kitchenette we don’t use because we don’t
know how to cook
bookshelves that line our every wall
snapshots of the city, framed in matte black
wood and macaroni, in the hall
we don’t invite people over.

our parents
don’t send christmas cards anymore
stopped paying for university tuition
and his sister helen gave birth to a baby we
aren’t allowed to see

(but helen sends pictures in the mail)


they can’t take away our love.
Ben Jones Jun 2013
The Night before Christmas of the Living Dead

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all down the street
Came a howling of wind and a lashing of sleet
The stockings were hung by the 50 inch plasma
And parents were snoring like bulldogs with asthma

The children were nestled in cosy wee places
With smug little grins on their villainous faces
Their mum in her nightie and I in my skin
Were of Christmassy spirit, specifically Gin

When out in the garden, a moaning was heard
I sprang to my feet without breathing a word
To the curtains I leapt like a naturist ninja
As spry as a horse with an **** full of ginger

And what did I spy as I peeped through the crack?
No jolly fat Santa or magical sack
It was as I had feared but had always expected
The zombies were here and St. Nick was infected!

His sled, with a frenzy of giblets, was smitten
And was pulled by a mob of the people he’d bitten
He threatened and jabbed them to get them to run
And struck at their heads with the **** of his gun

“Now Arnie, now Johnny, Now Barrak Obama
On Oprah, on Beckham and on Dalai Lama
On half of Madonna and Samuel L. Jackson
And run for your lives at the sound of the claxon”

The sled rose aloft dragging corpses behind
Like a wedding day prank from a murderous mind
And with more than a hint of the melodramatic
An almighty crash rattled down from the attic

Still dressed, as it were, in my birthday attire
Some pants and a chainsaw, my only desire
I crept on my tippy-toes, ever so soft
And I heard a grim sound from the stairs to the loft

I searched for a weapon and first to my hand
Was a porcelain Goofy from Disney land
I ran from the bedroom to battle my foe
I turned to the stairs, but now where did he go?

When a breath on my neck made me shiver and freeze
And a trickle of ***** advanced to my knees
I came to my senses and spun on the spot
And before me pulsating with maggots and rot

There stood zombie Santa, he drooled as he leered
His eyes filled with hunger and blood in his beard
I screamed and I bolted, I ran down the stairs
I bounced and I bounded and leapt them in pairs

I rounded the corner and flung back the door
I flicked on the light but could journey no more
The windows were gone and in every direction
Were lurching the victims of zombie infection

They lunged and they nibbled and ripped me apart
They tore out my liver and chewed on my heart
Like tinsel, my entrails hung on the tree
My kidneys were baubles and under it, me

And while they made meals of my pieces of mind
Upstairs there was gore of a similar kind
The missus was mangled and minced in her sleep
And Santa selected the pieces he’d keep

The children still snoozed with not even a groan
The zombies sensed evil, and left them alone
Now their job was completed they hastened away
To the attic they galloped to rev up the sleigh

With a scrape and a grind and a clatter of slate
They took to the air to continue their spate
And the voice of St. Nick could be heard from the sky
“Merry Christmas to all and to all……

DIE!”
Zywa Nov 2022
**** in my nightie,

I still feel his eager hands --


I still feel his breath.
"Farah Mills" (2017, Ivo Victoria)

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 0s and 10s"
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Jesus Christ Almighty!...

     *What?


A mouse ran up my nightie!...

     Ohhh...

He bit my ***!...

     Dear me!

Then ran lickety-split,....

     Where

*Slipping on my ****,

Squeaking for being so naughty.
Terry Collett May 2014
From her bedroom window
Lydia could see
the grass and pigeons

and some boy
with a bow and arrow
she could hear

her mother shouting
at her father
her sister

still asleep
in the big bed behind
the tattooed arm

hanging from the bed
her mouth open
Lydia saw the boy turn

it was Benedict
his quiff of hair
an arrow in his bow

pointing downwards
he was mouthing words
and making gestures

with his free hand
she opened the window
letting in

the morning air
are you coming out?
Benedict asked

Lydia's sister
stirred in the bed
where are you going?

Lydia asked
thought I’d go
to one of the big

train stations
see the steam engines
he said

she looked back
at her sister
the blonde hair

over her face
a breast hanging
out of her nightie

which one?
she asked
he fired an arrow

at a pigeon
but it flew away
Victoria?

he said
I’ve no money
she said

he went
to pick up the arrow
stuck in the grass

he wiped mud
off the end
when are you going?

she asked
after lunch
he said

walking up
to her ground floor
window and peering in

at Lydia's sister
can you call for me?
she asked

sure
he said
will your mother

be ok about it?
last time
she almost

bit my head off
Lydia looked out
at the grass

and dandelions
growing
she'll be all right

she said
uncertain but trying
to convince him

ok
he said
I’ll call for you

he walked off
across the grass
holding his bow

and arrow
shut the blooming window
her sister said

turning over in bed
Lydia pulled down
the window

and watched
as Benedict
climbed the green

metal fence
and disappeared
from view

Lydia picked up
her sister's
***** washing

for something
(in the meantime)
to do.
A BOY AND GIRL IN 1950S LONDON.
Joe Bradley Apr 2015
Turn on

I
This is the BBC news at 1 o'clock.
A rambling diatribe,
lost boys, a lost war.
The falling cost of stamps.
'What do you think of the deficit,
Graham from Newquay?'


II
Some bald man
holds a cadaverous gaze.
'She don't want me no more Pauline.'
The ware and tear
of Albert Square
immortalised
in one ***** stare.

III
Ella looked into the eyes of
the African children with bloated
stomachs, scooping up brown water
she wouldn't even dip her toe in.
For a moment, they were face to face.

VI
Margret! Margret!

Look what they're...

Check the cupboard,
have we still got...

uh...

tinned peaches and caster sugar.


V
Our hands, in every listless waft,
wander through an electric soup,
thick as frog-spawn.
Spermatozoa of information.
A gentle fuzz of creation,
our atmosphere is
pregnant with
separate universes that
embed themselves
inside our own.
We broadcast
our noisy planet
to the skies.

VI
'I've seen what's going on,
you don't have to tell me!
I know what they're doing.'

The walls are closing in,
as each breath from her
dusting lungs is getting tighter.
'Besides, my eyes won't let me, or
my knees these days, It's all i'm
good for'
  
She wheezes.
'I can see all I need from here.'

VII
Click
I swear 400
*******
channels
And there's nothing on

VIII
As I approach the blue glare
of the living room, I know
she's in there. Not even
watching,
she's on her
iPad. We don't talk.
We went to the
Maldives
once,
after the wedding.
she couldn't keep her eyes off me.

IX
Dead square.
Silent pixels.
Nothings watching.

X
We crept down in the morning - my sister
and me, before anyone else was up and squabbled
what loud cartoon violence would take our attention.
Nightie, pyjama cotton siblings, sewn in to the 7 to 9 o'clock schedule,
we were as vital to each other as sleeping bags and cereal.
Our building blocks stood in a castle,
we were unaware that one day,
they would be strewn across the floor
as we grew up.

XI
We're not going out tonight.
I just want to slip my hands down your
pants and touch you while
we watch game of thrones...
Deal?

XII
Smoke rises behind the mosque
in an arabesque twirl.
The blinding sunlight behind the minaret
crashes on the lens, like a flash bang.

The call to prayer is empty bodies, iconographic art,
cars hollowed, alien tongues, history, a melting *** culture,
cockroach romances, squalid graves, body hewn tunnels, little cuts on
trigger fingers, trained monkeys, orphans, marble carvings,
the stench of petrol, jobless drug habits, brickwork, wiring,
forbidden love, lust, teenagers, plastic explosive, god, work,
prayer, tears, life and death
    

and briefly the box is the world in our homes.
We must see who's behind it.
mark john junor Oct 2014
shes as beautiful as sweetest sin
wicked as any girl has ever been
***** girl with the naughty naughty nightie
Terry Collett Feb 2013
It’s the fifth hotel room
in as many days
the fifth morning waking
and standing there

by the window
watching her sleep
and he thinks
no one sleeps

like she does
no one seems to enjoy
sleep like she does
as if she were born to it

and he lets his eyes
rest on her
for a few moments
lets them move

over her lying there
wanting to climb
back in bed
and make love to her

but not while she’s sleeping
of course
although he did
years before

with some other woman
that plump one
who had drunk herself
into a slumber

and had said
before she had nodded off
we must make love
and so he had

but it had been no fun
it had no satisfaction
he recalls
taking in

the sleeping woman
before him how
she barely seems to breathe
as she sleeps

and he moves closer
and puts his ear
near to her
careful not to let

his breath wake her
his warm breath
stir her awake
she is moody if woken

before time
will sulk over breakfast
down stairs
in the hotel restaurant

with a face like thunder
sitting at the table
staring down
at her cereal bowl

picking at the food
sipping coffee
no best to let her sleep
he thinks as he moves away

takes in her red night dress
the one he’d bought
in Chicago
and the store girl

had looked at him
as he stood there
with it in his hands
and smiled

and the girl had
a kind of **** smile
one of those smiles
that seemed to say

wish we were an item
wish that red nightie
was for me
but it wasn’t

and he left the store
with it wrapped up
in a neat package
and gave it to her

just before
they came away
and her eyes opened up
when she saw it

and she’s worn it
the last five nights
and it has soaked her up
into its cloth now

her perfume
her perspiration
her skin touching it
and it enfolding her

like a mother
and o look at her
sleeping there
he says to himself

look how she sleeps
her red hair
matching her nightdress
o he wants to hold her

and kiss her
and feel her close
o how he wants
to enter her

and explode within her
she lets out
a soft sigh
he stands still

his hand in his pockets
she breathes out
one long sigh
if only she would wake

he muses
his tongue
at the corner
of his mouth

if only she would turn now
and say
come on
come and make love to me

but she doesn’t
she moves her leg
her toes move
her buttocks twitch

her fingers scratch an itch
wake up Sweetheart
he mumbles
wake up

his disappointed self says
wake up you *****.
Terry Collett Apr 2014
Are the boys in?
Benedict asked
no they've gone fishing
with their big brother

Milka said
O right
Benedict said
looking at her

standing there
in her Baby Doll
nightie
best go then

I was going
to the cinema
this afternoon
not sure

if they'll be back
in time
she said
he  looked beyond her

into the kitchen
your mum
not about?
no Dad's

taken her shopping
I’m on my own
she said
gazing at him

want to come in
for coffee or tea
or something?
she asked

no best not
he said
she expressed
disappointment

if your parents
come back
they'll put
two and two

together
and come up
with ***
he said

no they wouldn't
they would think
you'd just come
and were just going

I’ll say you came
for the boys
and had only
just found out

she said
you'd lie to them?
he said
if needs must

she said
needs?
he said
how long

have they been gone?
20 minutes
how long
will they be?

long enough
she said
he looked behind him
at his bike

by the fence
of the field
chickens were pecking
around the barn

I’ll come in
for coffee
he said
she backed in

and he followed
watching her cute ****
swaying before him
take a seat

she said
he sat on a seat
at a large oak table
strong or weak

black or white?
white strong
two sugars
she smiled

and took two mugs
down from a shelf
and prepared the coffee
in both

a radio was playing quietly
in the background
the Kinks
were being played

he noticed
she had nice legs
plumpish but neat
from ankles to ****

she poured water
into both mugs
and dripped in milk
she gave him his

and sat down
gazing at him
we have the house
to ourselves

she said
my bed
lonely upstairs
wanting company

she pouted
and pulled
a baby face  
how comes

your not dressed yet?
I seldom get dressed
till late on Saturdays
unless Mum

has a moan
Milka said
Benedict sipped
his coffee

she sipped hers
we could be doing things
she said
we are doing things

he said
we're drinking our coffees
you know what I mean
she said

he looked
at the wood stove
with logs on the floor
warmth came across

a picture hung
on a wall
by a Welsh dresser
they may not

be back for hours
she said
time enough
he mused on her words

but the image
of her parents
coming back
whilst in play

haunted him
not today
he said
your mother trusts me

Milka frowned
and sipped her coffee
shame she does
Milka said sulkily

a Beatles' song
came on the radio
I could sit on your lap
she said

the door of the kitchen
opened and her mother
came in
with shopping bags

and plonked them
on the table
O hello Benedict
come for the boys?

yes
he said
Milka made me a coffee
while I waited

good girl
she said
but still
in that silly nightie

just as well
Benedict is a good boy
or I don't know
what would have happen

my girl
Milka stared at him
as her mother
put away

the shopping
he looked innocent
as a peach
and knew now

that Milka
was out of touch
and out
of his reach.
BOY AND GIRL ONE SATURDAY IN 1964.
Ben Jones Dec 2014
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all down the street
Came a howling of wind and a lashing of sleet
The stockings were hung by the 50 inch plasma
And parents were snoring like bulldogs with asthma

The children were nestled in cosy wee places
With smug little grins on their villainous faces
Their mum in her nightie and I in my skin
Were of Christmassy spirit, specifically Gin

When out in the garden, a moaning was heard
I sprang to my feet without breathing a word
With a hint of a stagger and stumbling feet
I went to the curtains all sly and discreet

And what did I spy as I peeped through the crack?
No jolly fat Santa or magical sack
It was as I had feared but had always expected
The zombies were here and St. Nick was infected!

His sled, with a frenzy of giblets, was smitten
And was pulled by a mob of the people he’d bitten
He threatened and jabbed them to get them to run
And struck at their heads with the **** of his gun

“Now Arnie, now Johnny, Now Barrak Obama
On Oprah, on Beckham and on Dalai Lama
On half of Madonna and Samuel L. Jackson
And run for your lives at the sound of the claxon”

The sled rose aloft dragging corpses behind
Like a wedding day prank from a murderous mind
And with more than a hint of the melodramatic
An almighty crash rattled down from the attic

Still dressed, as it were, in my birthday attire
Some pants and a chainsaw, my only desire
I crept on my tippy-toes, ever so soft
And I heard a grim sound from the stairs to the loft

I searched for a weapon and first within sight
Was the bottle of ***** for Boxing Day night
I ran from the bedroom to battle my foe
I turned to the stairs, but now where did he go?

When a breath on my neck made me shiver and freeze
And a trickle of ***** advanced to my knees
I came to my senses and spun on the spot
And before me pulsating with maggots and rot

There stood zombie Santa, he drooled as he leered
His eyes filled with hunger and blood in his beard
I screamed and I bolted, I ran down the stairs
I bounced and I bounded and leapt them in pairs

I rounded the corner and flung back the door
I flicked on the light but could journey no more
The windows were gone and in every direction
Were lurching the victims of zombie infection

They lunged and they nibbled and ripped me apart
They tore out my liver and chewed on my heart
My giblets, like tinsel, were strung on the tree
And beneath lay the presents in puddles of me

And while they made meals of my pieces of mind
Upstairs there was gore of a similar kind
The missus was mangled and minced in her sleep
And Santa selected the pieces he’d keep

The children still snoozed with not even a groan
The zombies sensed evil, and left them alone
Their work was complete so they hastened away
To the attic they galloped to rev up the sleigh

With a scrape and a grind and a clatter of slate
They took to the air to continue their spate
And the voice of St. Nick could be heard from the sky
“Merry Christmas to all and to all……

DIE!”
Terry Collett Apr 2015
Nima doesnt see why she held be in a psychiatric ward when shes not psychiatric in any form whatsoever shes a drug addict for ***** sake pure and simple and she ought to be elsewhere but not here with these other people who do have problems but even to say the word to her parents drug addict sends them to panic and a form of denial better to have mental issues and tucked in here rather than have her their daughter labelled as a drug addict once her father- a doctor- when she was young would smack her if she crossed any boundaries he made for her but when she had grown that didnt work any more especially after the last time when he tried it and she bit his thumb and he slapped her face and she kicked his shins sending hoping around the room like loony dancer since then he had given up on any form of outer control and her mother also a doctor never knew how to control her daughter once she was out of nappies they had her put here not quite sectioned but as near as they could and visited hardly ever although her mother did come a few times out of curiosity but stayed only to see how Nima was doing or not as the case was and left Nima sits in the lawn area beyond the French windows in one of the white metal chairs around a circular metal white table smoking staring at the buildings glass and bricks and concrete and at a man sitting on the grass staring at his hands she looks away just in case he looks at her last time she saw him outside he had his ***** in his hands but not this time just his hands this time she feels like fix but there is no way to have one and the difficulties she has had getting though her days without a fix is like being emptied out and squeezed and left to dry and she wants and wants and a nurse comes out dressed in blue her hair tied in a ponytail and walks towards her in swagger have you taken your pills? pills? your medication the nurse says no I dropped them down the loo Nima says youve got to take your medication why didnt you take your medication? the nurse says irritably I just need a fix Nima says not medication youre here to get you off those drugs and the medication is there to help the nurse says I dont want drugs to get me off drugs I want the fix I like Nima says those are illegal drugs its against the law the nurse states standing hands on hips staring at Nima there is moment of silence Nima looks back at the man staring at his hands holding his ***** I want whatever medication he's on Nima says pointing to the man on the grass  the nurse follows Nimas finger and says no no Eric not here and runs towards Eric waving her hands in the air Nima looks away and smiles and takes a hug intake of smoke from the cigarette and wishes Benedict would come he would break the monotony of her life bring her cigarettes and chocolates and maybe a kiss or so and she lies back in the chair and closes her eyes and dismisses the voice of the nurse and Eric cursing at her and being taken back indoors much against his will she tries to bring to mind the time Benedict came and she sneaked him along to the small broom cupboard along by the corridor-unused on Sundays- and there they had a ****** quickie amongst brooms and mops and buckets and just enough room to lay and **** and she in a nightie lifted up and ******* tossed aside on a broom handle and he there unsure but at her in the short space and time allowed she opens her eyes and stares at the trees planted here and there on the green lawn no one knew but she guessed the nurses suspected when the cleaner on the Monday found a pair of her ******* on a broom handle-she hadnt missed them until later and forgot where shed left them- now they watch her and the cupboard and Benedict when he comes especially the head nurse who Nima suspects is a *** starved woman and is jealous that a patient gets it when she cant she stubs the cigarette end out on the white table top and lets it fall on the grass she sits and stares clothed in the blue nightgown they have given her over her white nightdress-in case she should attempt to escape without permission- some nights she lies in her bed in the ward in the semi-dark and wants a fix and *** and as the fix is out of the question she thinks of Benedict and pretends hes there beside her in her bed- ignoring the snores and mutters of other girls and women- and attempts a rather poor organism imaging it is Benedict there and not her fingers bringing her to a climate of sorts the nurse is there again swaggering over the grass towards her you have to take your medication again doctors orders the nurse says are you sure you discarded them? what? my *******? Nima says smiling no your medication have you really discarded them? Nima shrugs and says cant remember may have done she says looking at the nurses face the nurse inhales breath and stands hands on hips if you were my daughter Id...Words were lost...the sun was hot over head...white clouds...Benedict where you? well make sure you take the next medication I shall watch you like a hawk the nurse says walking away Nima raises her middle digit in a gesture at the departing back the same digit that brought her to a higher plane maybe to night she muses itll do it again.
A GIRL DRUG ADDICT IN A PSYCHIATRIC WARD IN 1967.
Terry Collett Feb 2013
That is as good as it gets:
Mrs Hushbenway gazing
at herself in the mirror.
Her husband lies in bed

staring at her back; her
backside squatted on the
small stool of the dressing
table, her back ramrod straight,

her hair in a mess. She grimaces,
shows her teeth, licks her lips.
He takes in her fading pink
nightie, the dark pink *******

showing through, the way she
sits there gazing at her face,
the way she grimaces. Enough
to sink ships, he thinks, not saying.

He imagines she’s some other,
some younger specimen, sitting
there, slim figure, maybe naked,
brushing her hair. She is talking

now, he assumes it is small talk,
some neighbour’s husband or
kid or some new baby on the way,
or some dress she’d seen, but not

in her size. He thinks of the old days,
the days of rough and tumble, times
of getting in late, falling into bed
and having it off before deep sleep.

She’s asking him a question, no
idea what, he tries to bluff, to pretend
he had not heard too well. She
turns and stares, her big eyes, cow

like, brown and liquidy as diarrhoea,
search him, brings on the pretend
fear, the good husband pose. Ah yes,
now he’s heard, knows the answer,

what she’d want him to say and he
does and she turns satisfied and brushes
her locks, having lost her looks. He
knows her well, knows her funny ways,

her little lived in world, her way of
seeing things, of saying things, the
words she prefers, leaving out words
not hers, like **** and **** and ****

and ****, words he likes to sprout in
anger if banging toe or elbow. Now
she undresses, takes off the clothing
piece by piece, he hums the striptease

tune, but she's not amused, and gives
him her stare. Oh you, he thinks, who
could sink a thousand ships, whose
face could turn the tides of sea, shut
thy cackle, come kiss, remember me.
Jenny Gordon Jan 2019
cough, cough*  



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCLIII)


Yes, I woke after one, as if t'avail
Myself of sleep ere tucking up has sense,
To find that notion snowplows were fr'intents
Upon the prowl in grinding form to scale
Long ere a Friday evning was past bail
Quite true, as snow filled that lone light's beams thence
With whiter mists, a blanket none could hence
Pierce on the blacker world in sheer betrayl.
If rolling phrases 'cross one's tongue in tour
Is grand, choice words the key 'fore their debut
On lo, this wrinkled notebook page, what were
They as I slipped into my nightie?  To
Effect:  "snow AFTER midnight--".  None too poor,
I spose.  And how winds craft dunes 'cross the view.

19Jan19a
Sorry for the poor quality of my latest posts:  it's a new year.  Lo, and behold, my writing, topics are shoddy and not worth a perusal.  Mebbe some better day will show its face?  Who knows?
Beckawecka Jul 2015
Go down to Skeleton Grove, go now,
Wait for the ghost train to pick you up,
Then walk past
The green bushes,
And into the green maze.

Find there all your childhood memories
Give them a ring.
Place your foot on the lily pad,
Let yourself glide,
Ankle-length hem of your nightie
Trailing against the blue water.
Red and blue flowers slide on the pond surface,
Then dip below.
Like the skulls.

Find the whisperer,
Between the trees.
She's calling out your name, hurry
Run after her , chase her, catch her.

But all you can find is a girl,
With rabbit skin.
Pink eyes closed in a dream,
Small body of bones lain beside her.

The maze keeps going, twisting on itself.
Let the man take your hand, and when you do, let blood blossom all over his body.
Pray for the *******, the stolen lives,
Manifesting here.
Childhood in the looking-glass.

You find yourself falling, falling
The **** of the mermaids, against a rock,
Get out, get out as fast as you can.

But then you realise, you can't.
But then you realise, you've been here all along.
But then you realise, you never left.
cheryl love Oct 2015
Stack the ***** with cream and a cherry
plop it out to the nearest plate
Santa's late and he'd better be merry
is that him swinging on the garden gate?

He had dropped his sack on the path
and he had carrots stuck in his beard
He's been sick as a dog and needed a bath
and that sight will be very weird.

He was as drunk as can be and singing loud
Rudolph didn't seem that impressed.
Well his washing antics worried the crowd
but it was funny watching him get dressed.

He wore a pink nightie which Rudolph found
He could hear a stifled giggle behind his back
Then he had put his belt on the wrong way round
and was hunting for his boots in his sack.

The bells chimed twelve times, he was in panic mode
Steadily he climbed aboard the sleigh
Fumbling about he typed in his magic code
which sent the reindeer zooming on their way.

His stomach, well that was doing somersaults freely
The air was passing through him like a bullet
He appeared to be doing a never-ending wheelie
which was playing havoc with his gullet.

Up came his lunch splattering all over Dancer
The back lash of that was they came to a halt
By which time the mess was on Prancer
And they all knew it was Santa's fault.

Ding ****, ding ****, was heard in Santa's head
It was if he was cursed with magic spells
His head was spinning as the reindeer sped
Merrily on high true, he was cursed by bells.

— The End —