"nostril" poems - Hello Poetry

There once was a lazy little man With a lazy little nostril One lazy little day The lazy little nostril Decided to stop working And that lazy little man Never saw the rest of that Lazy little day

0

Nov 27, 2014

Nov 27, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC

Rockie

The Lazy Man's Nostril

There once was a lazy little man With a lazy little nostril One lazy little day The lazy little nostril Decided to stop working And that lazy little man Never saw the rest of that Lazy little day

8

Man at the station did this thing still laughing now he did this thing a big sneeze and it sounded just like a **** do you think when he farts its sounds like a sneeze what a party trick.

0

Aug 21, 2015

Aug 21, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC

paul-hardwick

Nostril ****

Man at the station did this thing still laughing now he did this thing a big sneeze and it sounded just like a **** do you think when he farts its sounds like a sneeze what a party trick.

8

Poor little octopus. Big head and eight tentacles but no ***** ***** or testicles. What's that, you say? Then how do these poor little cephalopods buck such terrible odds when they feel like a ****** agenda and they don't have any pudenda? Well, it's quite simple, really. He hands her ***** on a tentacle and what do you suppose? She says, thank you very much, and sticks it up her nose! Honest. No dinner first or shoulder massage, she just whacks it up her nasal passage. You can be quite sure this is an amazing olfactory aperture. So the moral is, don't complicate a simple process. When you're feeling frisky, *** need not be tricky. Just consider the inventiveness of the octopus with no ***** or a ******** Because it's the ingenuity of the octopus, not it's ****** act, that we should court. Compared to the octopus, the human nose is naught. It's too high up and tight for such naughty, wicked sport. Also, such a human act is fraught with political incorrectness. A gentleman who tries this little rort to get the girls to snort and says, up your nostril, madam, might all too well receive a rude retort. Or even worse! I say herein lies food for thought. Mike T Minehan

0

Feb 5, 2013

Feb 5, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC

mike-t-minehan

Octopussies

Poor little octopus. Big head and eight tentacles but no ***** ***** or testicles. What's that, you say? Then how do these poor little cephalopods buck such terrible odds when they feel like a ****** agenda and they don't have any pudenda? Well, it's quite simple, really. He hands her ***** on a tentacle and what do you suppose? She says, thank you very much, and sticks it up her nose! Honest. No dinner first or shoulder massage, she just whacks it up her nasal passage. You can be quite sure this is an amazing olfactory aperture. So the moral is, don't complicate a simple process. When you're feeling frisky, *** need not be tricky. Just consider the inventiveness of the octopus with no ***** or a ******** Because it's the ingenuity of the octopus, not it's ****** act, that we should court. Compared to the octopus, the human nose is naught. It's too high up and tight for such naughty, wicked sport. Also, such a human act is fraught with political incorrectness. A gentleman who tries this little rort to get the girls to snort and says, up your nostril, madam, might all too well receive a rude retort. Or even worse! I say herein lies food for thought. Mike T Minehan

25

it’s quiet and i hear nothing but the snowflakes hit the fabric on my shoulder i hear nothing but the paper burn as my inhale imitates the gust of wind that guides the cold to shutter skin — street lights sit above the lit, white-flowered flakes as they dance to the ground as a group that whisper soliloquies to the crimson lobes that hear nothing but the snowflakes hit the fabric on my shoulder, a hazy fog covers the air before my face as it sways from nostril to upper lip — a sight down to an illuminating ash, blinking to meet a lid to whited lash — as the paper burns the smokey sky is content with silence and nothing more than a look to the fields MJB

0

Aug 5, 2015

Aug 5, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC

MitchNihilist

Nocturnus (Content) Pt.1°

it’s quiet and i hear nothing but the snowflakes hit the fabric on my shoulder i hear nothing but the paper burn as my inhale imitates the gust of wind that guides the cold to shutter skin — street lights sit above the lit, white-flowered flakes as they dance to the ground as a group that whisper soliloquies to the crimson lobes that hear nothing but the snowflakes hit the fabric on my shoulder, a hazy fog covers the air before my face as it sways from nostril to upper lip — a sight down to an illuminating ash, blinking to meet a lid to whited lash — as the paper burns the smokey sky is content with silence and nothing more than a look to the fields MJB

18

Words are raining down like snowflakes....falling on your tongue like icing from a cake. I don't bake...but i create rhymes sometimes. Happy or sad....I love to write about love ....I try to be hard...but that's just not me.....I'm more of smooth talker. Take my hand and come walk with me. Can we lay in the grass and look at the clouds....and daydream about our future together out loud. I avoid drama because that takes the attention off of you...but i wrote about Attention that was dedicated to you. The power of words....My Word is "breathe" because God breathed in the nostril of man.....and for that reason .....I am able to caress your hand. To kiss you ever so softly and look in your eyes.....I don't compare myself to those other guys ......because i stand alone. I love a challenge.....and you make me work. My mind is working overtime in an effort to impress....but my eyes are fixated by your body in that dress. What is poetry? Poetry is the connection I have with you. I'm the paper and you're the pen, Amen. I learned from a teacher that "A parent is the first one we see. The apple falls next to the tree. So...you continue to be on my mind even when I'm sleep. That letter from a stalker made your heart weak. He cut your brakes and said he was looking inside....maybe he saw you....while I gave you a ride. The **** on my head as I tried to protect you was well worth the wait. I glad that we could share a peaceful date....but hold up...wait! I'll be right back. Look up in the sky! What do you see....a poem written in the clouds all courtesy of me....your favorite superhero. I don't go by a name....because i am free. Hey...I'm back ....with a few more dollars from that bank.....for some odd reason there was a hole in the wall. A guy walked by and said he saw an advertisement on Craigslist and stated it was free....I grabbed all I could carry and said that's cool with me. So...as we are together and the rain is money green. I pray you understand what this poem means. It was a paper that i found from long ago....A poem about a poem was the title. There were severel judges and comments like American Idol....but I never had a clue.....until I read that last line.....the author was You. The mind is a terrible thing to waste.......

0

Oct 9, 2012

Oct 9, 2012 at 9:46 AM UTC

theteacher

The conclusion

Words are raining down like snowflakes....falling on your tongue like icing from a cake. I don't bake...but i create rhymes sometimes. Happy or sad....I love to write about love ....I try to be hard...but that's just not me.....I'm more of smooth talker. Take my hand and come walk with me. Can we lay in the grass and look at the clouds....and daydream about our future together out loud. I avoid drama because that takes the attention off of you...but i wrote about Attention that was dedicated to you. The power of words....My Word is "breathe" because God breathed in the nostril of man.....and for that reason .....I am able to caress your hand. To kiss you ever so softly and look in your eyes.....I don't compare myself to those other guys ......because i stand alone. I love a challenge.....and you make me work. My mind is working overtime in an effort to impress....but my eyes are fixated by your body in that dress. What is poetry? Poetry is the connection I have with you. I'm the paper and you're the pen, Amen. I learned from a teacher that "A parent is the first one we see. The apple falls next to the tree. So...you continue to be on my mind even when I'm sleep. That letter from a stalker made your heart weak. He cut your brakes and said he was looking inside....maybe he saw you....while I gave you a ride. The **** on my head as I tried to protect you was well worth the wait. I glad that we could share a peaceful date....but hold up...wait! I'll be right back. Look up in the sky! What do you see....a poem written in the clouds all courtesy of me....your favorite superhero. I don't go by a name....because i am free. Hey...I'm back ....with a few more dollars from that bank.....for some odd reason there was a hole in the wall. A guy walked by and said he saw an advertisement on Craigslist and stated it was free....I grabbed all I could carry and said that's cool with me. So...as we are together and the rain is money green. I pray you understand what this poem means. It was a paper that i found from long ago....A poem about a poem was the title. There were severel judges and comments like American Idol....but I never had a clue.....until I read that last line.....the author was You. The mind is a terrible thing to waste.......

12

Once more I am floored by indulgence a greed a lust a need complete me to bleed in my left nostril. Last night, I fell from the sky. Saw why I existed and misted the glass with my bind, i am bound I found M D A in my D N A A ray of Ad dic tion— con flic tion, res tric tion, cru ci fi xion He was more than just a friend Ended in me coming back attack of parachutes. no—not an american raid blade cut the lines weighed out the fines swallowing paper and singing the signs. He saw though the redbull, the xanax, the pro zac, the this- that your mix- match emotions that k i l l e d like a rat-trap. And for what? Artificial love. A c r a c k in my parachute attack: I deny. Last night, I f e l l from the sky.

0

Dec 22, 2012

Dec 22, 2012 at 10:05 PM UTC

september

Parachute

Once more I am floored by indulgence a greed a lust a need complete me to bleed in my left nostril. Last night, I fell from the sky. Saw why I existed and misted the glass with my bind, i am bound I found M D A in my D N A A ray of Ad dic tion— con flic tion, res tric tion, cru ci fi xion He was more than just a friend Ended in me coming back attack of parachutes. no—not an american raid blade cut the lines weighed out the fines swallowing paper and singing the signs. He saw though the redbull, the xanax, the pro zac, the this- that your mix- match emotions that k i l l e d like a rat-trap. And for what? Artificial love. A c r a c k in my parachute attack: I deny. Last night, I f e l l from the sky.

33

Which variation do you choose to throttle blows Squeeze your nostril collect that head fluid Your mental eradicates nasal liquid Nose running swinging like a bungee jump Panicking searching for the tissue clump Dangling like the Tarzan on a jungle vine Hand eye coordination catch that snot on time My nose got that stutter drip Watch when i sneeze flying lighting manumits When the nose pouring stops I was only dreaming pops

0

Apr 12, 2014

Apr 12, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC

abstractionist

Running Nose

Which variation do you choose to throttle blows Squeeze your nostril collect that head fluid Your mental eradicates nasal liquid Nose running swinging like a bungee jump Panicking searching for the tissue clump Dangling like the Tarzan on a jungle vine Hand eye coordination catch that snot on time My nose got that stutter drip Watch when i sneeze flying lighting manumits When the nose pouring stops I was only dreaming pops

11

Which variation do you choose to throttle blows Squeeze your nostril collect that head fluid Your mental eradicates nasal liquid Nose running like a bungee jump Panicking searching for the tissue clump Dangling like Tarzan on a jungle vine Hand eye coordination catch that snot on time My nose got that stutter drip Watch when I sneeze flying lightning manumits When the nose pouring stops I realise I was only dreaming pops

0

Apr 1, 2014

Apr 1, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC

martinmurray

Running Nose

Which variation do you choose to throttle blows Squeeze your nostril collect that head fluid Your mental eradicates nasal liquid Nose running like a bungee jump Panicking searching for the tissue clump Dangling like Tarzan on a jungle vine Hand eye coordination catch that snot on time My nose got that stutter drip Watch when I sneeze flying lightning manumits When the nose pouring stops I realise I was only dreaming pops

11

Explosion of the white tree, A synapse in the damp air. The fluid around the corsair, Ambassador of the secret; The perfume of a comet Descends upon the wetland. A goosebump stretches my hair; Ripples forming across the sea As nostril and flowers meet Miles and miles without end. The green flame always return In a frenetic haze, a burst of fire, As the solar wave caresses the earth At welcomed glances, so soft a fur. A last effort renewed forevermore; Delirious poison continually brewed; An elixir against the veil of dusk; Cause and effect from dust to dust. As the mind steps out back further, It finds itself returned at the core, Til all of Spring elapses.

0

Sep 6, 2018

Sep 6, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC

solav

A Springlapse (2016)

Explosion of the white tree, A synapse in the damp air. The fluid around the corsair, Ambassador of the secret; The perfume of a comet Descends upon the wetland. A goosebump stretches my hair; Ripples forming across the sea As nostril and flowers meet Miles and miles without end. The green flame always return In a frenetic haze, a burst of fire, As the solar wave caresses the earth At welcomed glances, so soft a fur. A last effort renewed forevermore; Delirious poison continually brewed; An elixir against the veil of dusk; Cause and effect from dust to dust. As the mind steps out back further, It finds itself returned at the core, Til all of Spring elapses.

21

It was a hot summer day and freshly hatched flies darkened your massive window bay. Inside your decaying bloated carcass millions of larvae are eating your flesh they are eating you slowly away. Your room had such a rancid stench The New London Day gave it away how long you laid all alone on the floor four days old it was on your piano bench out your body bag I saw a single fly take flight in the embalming room that only leads to a big fight. Rule is, turn out all the lights and open the door Because they will then take to the air and bother you no more. For a perfect viewing you must be purged of your infestation. Step One, hook your nostril to a rubber hose, Step Two, turn up the pressure so the water flows, Step Three, push on your chest to break up there home, I call it their nest, Step Four, Watch them all swim for their life as they exit out the other side of your nose. I have a fetish for death I need to touch with my bare hand slowly combing your hair with my fingers strand by strand. I take out my Sterling Silver Mirror and then place it upon your frigged lips and then I have to then put on a plastic frown when I see no BREATH!!!!

0

Dec 24, 2012

Dec 24, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC

curt-a-rivard-sr

Oil Of Wintergreen Moustache

It was a hot summer day and freshly hatched flies darkened your massive window bay. Inside your decaying bloated carcass millions of larvae are eating your flesh they are eating you slowly away. Your room had such a rancid stench The New London Day gave it away how long you laid all alone on the floor four days old it was on your piano bench out your body bag I saw a single fly take flight in the embalming room that only leads to a big fight. Rule is, turn out all the lights and open the door Because they will then take to the air and bother you no more. For a perfect viewing you must be purged of your infestation. Step One, hook your nostril to a rubber hose, Step Two, turn up the pressure so the water flows, Step Three, push on your chest to break up there home, I call it their nest, Step Four, Watch them all swim for their life as they exit out the other side of your nose. I have a fetish for death I need to touch with my bare hand slowly combing your hair with my fingers strand by strand. I take out my Sterling Silver Mirror and then place it upon your frigged lips and then I have to then put on a plastic frown when I see no BREATH!!!!

22

Honeysuckle running deep in nostril's recollection Wafting nectar dripping in air, please stop Must stay present, no time for memory swap Sneaking in, yellowed dreams, desirous confection O purgatory, keep me still, deviate no such inflection Causeway flash backing egg yolk, and lemon spectrum Road lined in runners, speckling scintillation This loose maddening of honeysuckle titillation Reverse your tendril's twist, quivers an ungated septum Covers, green to yellow transitions, honeysuckle bedlam I cannot dance down this lane for fear of you Your ringlets curl, clasp, coil me On such road of alluvial soil I see How can I? Must I, escape steer of dew? You're honeysuckle memory of all I knew

0

Mar 9, 2016

Mar 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC

pj-poesy

Honeysuckle Road

Honeysuckle running deep in nostril's recollection Wafting nectar dripping in air, please stop Must stay present, no time for memory swap Sneaking in, yellowed dreams, desirous confection O purgatory, keep me still, deviate no such inflection Causeway flash backing egg yolk, and lemon spectrum Road lined in runners, speckling scintillation This loose maddening of honeysuckle titillation Reverse your tendril's twist, quivers an ungated septum Covers, green to yellow transitions, honeysuckle bedlam I cannot dance down this lane for fear of you Your ringlets curl, clasp, coil me On such road of alluvial soil I see How can I? Must I, escape steer of dew? You're honeysuckle memory of all I knew

15

I met an artist yesterday, sat in solitary silence, In the shadowy corner of an affluent bar. And cloaked he was, by babble of students, Boasting of wealth and test results. molested In the attire of a catholic school, His cigarettes born from bible pages; and -- Inebriated from the blood of Christ -- surrounded by empty glass apostles, He paints the papers, In a masterful stroke -- Of pointilistic precision -- In a viscous hash oil That he had melted on a crucifix. The artist drunk, and drunk He drowned himself, Deafened by his liver Drowning in a sea of expensive whiskey -- It was a miracle that he could walk on it. And began to rack the coke he'd wrapped in a losing lottery ticket -- In plain sight of those 'sophisticated' enough To use a bathroom cubicle. And hoovered the diamond shards into his nostril, Through a rolled up scrap of paper -- A letter for an Oxford Interview he could not afford to get to.

0

May 11, 2014

May 11, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC

shane-oltingir

The Artist

I met an artist yesterday, sat in solitary silence, In the shadowy corner of an affluent bar. And cloaked he was, by babble of students, Boasting of wealth and test results. molested In the attire of a catholic school, His cigarettes born from bible pages; and -- Inebriated from the blood of Christ -- surrounded by empty glass apostles, He paints the papers, In a masterful stroke -- Of pointilistic precision -- In a viscous hash oil That he had melted on a crucifix. The artist drunk, and drunk He drowned himself, Deafened by his liver Drowning in a sea of expensive whiskey -- It was a miracle that he could walk on it. And began to rack the coke he'd wrapped in a losing lottery ticket -- In plain sight of those 'sophisticated' enough To use a bathroom cubicle. And hoovered the diamond shards into his nostril, Through a rolled up scrap of paper -- A letter for an Oxford Interview he could not afford to get to.

30

**** them all I'll wear what I want and my nose ring too that principal ***** is scared of me anyway she looks every direction except mine I try to walk near her in the hall so she'll see I've busted the dress code she's good at getting really engrossed in a conversation when I'm near like the waitress at Applebys that looks right through me when I wanna order people are so good at looking right through you it's scary I can't look through anything I see it all I see my footprints on the sidewalk fuckin' followin' me I see fuckin' atoms splitting I see all the colors of light in the air but sometimes I just see black I go to fancy department stores just to pull out clothes and let 'em drop nobody fuckin' looks at me except they're wondering if they'll have to call the police maybe someday they'll have to call the police then they'll see me maybe for the first and last time **** them all sometimes I walk behind someone and grunt at 'em I giggle when it scares 'em but they always step aside and don't look at me I just keep walking with those footsteps followin' me and those colors turned to black in my eyes I do like the **** who knocked me down that time instead of steppin' aside I like him fine at least he saw me at least he looked at me when he punched me even if he did give me a nosebleed and I lost my ring tore it right out of my left nostril and now there's a fuckin' scar the janitor bandaged it up for me so I could go to class I love that janitor dude he's fuckin' awesome he gives us *** and has a black cape hangin' on his wall we can put on if we're in that kinda mood it feels good to wear that cape like Captain Fuckin' Invisible sometimes it takes the black away sometimes the *** brings the colors back I'd rather skip class and smoke *** with the janitor but we're reading The Metamorphosis now that's a fuckin' great book a fuckin' nobody who becomes a monstrous vermin overnight nobody's gonna forget that that's for sure I wonder if Kafka locked himself in his room like I do I could turn into an insect and no one would know since they don't look at me well if they do look they don't see me anyway I guess I am a vermin to them the principal who doesn't wanna see me and my sister who pretends she doesn't know me at school and even my mom who only looks at me to make sure I'm not wearing profanities on my shirt **** that fuckin' big huge vermin fuckin' creepin' up behind you and grunting and nobody even sees it comin' that's a giggle right there nobody sees it comin' 'cause nobody sees me nobody sees me at all

0

Dec 17, 2012

Dec 17, 2012 at 4:06 PM UTC

cate-mighell

Captain Fuckin' Invisible

**** them all I'll wear what I want and my nose ring too that principal ***** is scared of me anyway she looks every direction except mine I try to walk near her in the hall so she'll see I've busted the dress code she's good at getting really engrossed in a conversation when I'm near like the waitress at Applebys that looks right through me when I wanna order people are so good at looking right through you it's scary I can't look through anything I see it all I see my footprints on the sidewalk fuckin' followin' me I see fuckin' atoms splitting I see all the colors of light in the air but sometimes I just see black I go to fancy department stores just to pull out clothes and let 'em drop nobody fuckin' looks at me except they're wondering if they'll have to call the police maybe someday they'll have to call the police then they'll see me maybe for the first and last time **** them all sometimes I walk behind someone and grunt at 'em I giggle when it scares 'em but they always step aside and don't look at me I just keep walking with those footsteps followin' me and those colors turned to black in my eyes I do like the **** who knocked me down that time instead of steppin' aside I like him fine at least he saw me at least he looked at me when he punched me even if he did give me a nosebleed and I lost my ring tore it right out of my left nostril and now there's a fuckin' scar the janitor bandaged it up for me so I could go to class I love that janitor dude he's fuckin' awesome he gives us *** and has a black cape hangin' on his wall we can put on if we're in that kinda mood it feels good to wear that cape like Captain Fuckin' Invisible sometimes it takes the black away sometimes the *** brings the colors back I'd rather skip class and smoke *** with the janitor but we're reading The Metamorphosis now that's a fuckin' great book a fuckin' nobody who becomes a monstrous vermin overnight nobody's gonna forget that that's for sure I wonder if Kafka locked himself in his room like I do I could turn into an insect and no one would know since they don't look at me well if they do look they don't see me anyway I guess I am a vermin to them the principal who doesn't wanna see me and my sister who pretends she doesn't know me at school and even my mom who only looks at me to make sure I'm not wearing profanities on my shirt **** that fuckin' big huge vermin fuckin' creepin' up behind you and grunting and nobody even sees it comin' that's a giggle right there nobody sees it comin' 'cause nobody sees me nobody sees me at all

69

This is for those hemp clad allotment dwelling new-age professionals, riding the crest of an organic wine wave, with heads tilted so far back, showing off their vanilla white, Dulux painted nostril showroom. 11am, it's not too early, community centre trip, twisting and stretching, kneading and rolling eighteen-month old Oscar into a morally righteous, gluten-free, linseed loaf of faux intelligensia. Tofu and thai veg stirfry please, healthy and nutriousness, Nah! it's greasy and delicious. Cultured, not truly, it's Anglicized cuisine really. Less like a political activist, more like the organic bourgeoisie.

0

Mar 28, 2013

Mar 28, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC

joseph-rogerson

This is for those (Part 3)

This is for those hemp clad allotment dwelling new-age professionals, riding the crest of an organic wine wave, with heads tilted so far back, showing off their vanilla white, Dulux painted nostril showroom. 11am, it's not too early, community centre trip, twisting and stretching, kneading and rolling eighteen-month old Oscar into a morally righteous, gluten-free, linseed loaf of faux intelligensia. Tofu and thai veg stirfry please, healthy and nutriousness, Nah! it's greasy and delicious. Cultured, not truly, it's Anglicized cuisine really. Less like a political activist, more like the organic bourgeoisie.

18

To the one who hosts competitions… Which ******* gave you the right? I wouldn’t listen to your rules even if you paid me. Nor would I let you tell me how I would write my poem. I could write something totally not related to your competition and submit it. Maybe I’ll **** your girlfriend and let you read about how it went. She didn’t take your name when she came(just so you know) Who said you could take such liberties? I’m gonna bash your head in with an exhaust pipe And when it dents and gains a sharp edge I’ll scrape your eye with it Just one, because I want you to see… You wanna host competitions, do ya? Meet my little match Ever wondered how a lit match feels in your nostril? If I sparked it and let the gunpowder catch flame in your nose, how wonderful would that feel? Listen here Mr. you asked for this by hosting it… there’s no backing out now… I still have a few things to run you over with. **** umbrella? no splash guard? ugh… too messy… Ah my favorite! the serpent’s tongue. For that I’ll first have to break your jaw, then hold your tongue out Then I’ll stretch your tongue out with clamps and slice it right down the middle Such a fitting exercise. For you. You have become what you really are. I’ll leave your manny parts intact… I know how we are when It comes to those. I will tell you though, you won’t be able to use em ever again… sorry about the irony. Lets get down to business, shall we? I hate you. You know why. I’m gonna inject you with a pain enhancing serum. Then I will administer XXXX XXX It’s an ancient technique of entertaining someone. Dating all the way back to almost 900 AD It was banned, sadly, in the last century. Anyway, you’re lucky I have knowledge of this It won’t spoil our fun… lets start with the obvious places Eye lids, lips, ears, finger tips, toes, arm pits, the ******* the wrists….etc…. You shouldn’t bother keeping count, that’s my job But I highly doubt you’ll even live past number 233.

0

Jul 28, 2014

Jul 28, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC

13

Killing the competition

To the one who hosts competitions… Which ******* gave you the right? I wouldn’t listen to your rules even if you paid me. Nor would I let you tell me how I would write my poem. I could write something totally not related to your competition and submit it. Maybe I’ll **** your girlfriend and let you read about how it went. She didn’t take your name when she came(just so you know) Who said you could take such liberties? I’m gonna bash your head in with an exhaust pipe And when it dents and gains a sharp edge I’ll scrape your eye with it Just one, because I want you to see… You wanna host competitions, do ya? Meet my little match Ever wondered how a lit match feels in your nostril? If I sparked it and let the gunpowder catch flame in your nose, how wonderful would that feel? Listen here Mr. you asked for this by hosting it… there’s no backing out now… I still have a few things to run you over with. **** umbrella? no splash guard? ugh… too messy… Ah my favorite! the serpent’s tongue. For that I’ll first have to break your jaw, then hold your tongue out Then I’ll stretch your tongue out with clamps and slice it right down the middle Such a fitting exercise. For you. You have become what you really are. I’ll leave your manny parts intact… I know how we are when It comes to those. I will tell you though, you won’t be able to use em ever again… sorry about the irony. Lets get down to business, shall we? I hate you. You know why. I’m gonna inject you with a pain enhancing serum. Then I will administer XXXX XXX It’s an ancient technique of entertaining someone. Dating all the way back to almost 900 AD It was banned, sadly, in the last century. Anyway, you’re lucky I have knowledge of this It won’t spoil our fun… lets start with the obvious places Eye lids, lips, ears, finger tips, toes, arm pits, the ******* the wrists….etc…. You shouldn’t bother keeping count, that’s my job But I highly doubt you’ll even live past number 233.

36

life-style sharpies are good to go. looks pretty thick to me. comes in black and cloud they will draw for you in exchange of eyes consume me!, they reek an odorless nostril invisible and trustworthy

0

Nov 15, 2011

Nov 15, 2011 at 8:48 PM UTC

misnomer

life-style sharpies

life-style sharpies are good to go. looks pretty thick to me. comes in black and cloud they will draw for you in exchange of eyes consume me!, they reek an odorless nostril invisible and trustworthy

12

The morning birds sing to the rythm of her soft heart beat under sky blue sheets Warm air exerts from each nostril along with a yawn from her baby doll lips Gold framed women in paintings above her drop forward over the headframe in envy of her glamour And the sun gleams against her cheek bones creating a halo around what already is an angel

0

Aug 18, 2018

Aug 18, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC

sophichia

Windowsill

The morning birds sing to the rythm of her soft heart beat under sky blue sheets Warm air exerts from each nostril along with a yawn from her baby doll lips Gold framed women in paintings above her drop forward over the headframe in envy of her glamour And the sun gleams against her cheek bones creating a halo around what already is an angel

8

In the linoleum dungeon Sparkling swiffer creature Squirts the floor Calls polyphemic odors Opening And the crazy stench of allspice Biting lime and draconian breath Burning the nostril coins Copper shield bending the cilia Oven mitts plastered with narcotic grease and decomposing meals Of yesteryear Unclear She speaks between steaming inspirations Hoo-huh Exhale the fire It's'a hotta pasta lasagna As the helicopters flap their handy rotories Fast fractal birds In circumfereferential motion Cool down our mouths Ice cubes in the juice Plop a shot of gin With that silly child's grin And the room slowly cants Begins to spin As we laugh at the spots we cannot Pin Staring at the stellar mountain chains Thrusted stone Busted metal Stabbing up into the sky Competition Where is the home beyond the horizon Where we ate good meals Not made alone With parental guidance As the days were stolen By the erosive time That spinning wheel Well, It's deep in us now And the cells metastasized Realized That heaven is hell.

0

Aug 7, 2018

Aug 7, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC

TimelessWave

Nobody's Dinner

In the linoleum dungeon Sparkling swiffer creature Squirts the floor Calls polyphemic odors Opening And the crazy stench of allspice Biting lime and draconian breath Burning the nostril coins Copper shield bending the cilia Oven mitts plastered with narcotic grease and decomposing meals Of yesteryear Unclear She speaks between steaming inspirations Hoo-huh Exhale the fire It's'a hotta pasta lasagna As the helicopters flap their handy rotories Fast fractal birds In circumfereferential motion Cool down our mouths Ice cubes in the juice Plop a shot of gin With that silly child's grin And the room slowly cants Begins to spin As we laugh at the spots we cannot Pin Staring at the stellar mountain chains Thrusted stone Busted metal Stabbing up into the sky Competition Where is the home beyond the horizon Where we ate good meals Not made alone With parental guidance As the days were stolen By the erosive time That spinning wheel Well, It's deep in us now And the cells metastasized Realized That heaven is hell.

44

I think of you. Your herpes-touch that crosses my eyelids with chlamydia fingernails accenting in all the wrong places. The white powder trail leading like a highway to your right nostril—the unemployment rate like a dropped lit cigarette in the ********* apartments available. I think of you. I think of you. I thought of you.

0

Apr 3, 2014

Apr 3, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC

september

I Think of You

I think of you. Your herpes-touch that crosses my eyelids with chlamydia fingernails accenting in all the wrong places. The white powder trail leading like a highway to your right nostril—the unemployment rate like a dropped lit cigarette in the ********* apartments available. I think of you. I think of you. I thought of you.

7

WAS it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: "There is a waterfall Upon Ben Bulben side That all my childhood counted dear; Were I to travel far and wide I could not find a thing so dear.' My memories had magnified So many times childish delight. I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild. Even accusing Heaven because It had set down among its laws: Nothing that we love over-much Is ponderable to our touch. I dreamed towards break of day, The cold blown spray in my nostril. But she that beside me lay Had watched in bitterer sleep The marvellous stag of Arthur, That lofty white stag, leap From mountain steep to steep.

0

2k

William Butler Yeats

Towards Break Of Day

WAS it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: "There is a waterfall Upon Ben Bulben side That all my childhood counted dear; Were I to travel far and wide I could not find a thing so dear.' My memories had magnified So many times childish delight. I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild. Even accusing Heaven because It had set down among its laws: Nothing that we love over-much Is ponderable to our touch. I dreamed towards break of day, The cold blown spray in my nostril. But she that beside me lay Had watched in bitterer sleep The marvellous stag of Arthur, That lofty white stag, leap From mountain steep to steep.

25

Toiled for days, toiled for weeks, toiled for hundreds of years working his fingers to their bones he’s crafting an ark out of gopher wood. Noah tried ever so hard to tell and be a teacher A choosing one from God he spoke as if he was a preacher. No one heeded to his warning and Noah cried and prayed that they all would. It’s now getting to late and he’s wishing that they all were godly good. Getting ready to sail on an ocean full of angel tears he’s not afraid, he’s content in his ark and he has no fears. Two by two they came from all the creepeth corners of the earth He’s so happy that he has his wife and wives for his three sons from birth. For Forty days and forty nights the angels wept from heaven And down on earth every living thing’s nostril was begging. The master didn’t really want to take their breathing air It had to be done because he had a plan and he did care . It was a beautiful night when the dove with an olive leaf took to fight bearing a gift showing Noah he was always right and dry land isn’t too far from his sight. After enduring a test of faith and with no despise he was told and given a promise and in return for his believing eight souls had rainbows were put in there eyes. AMEN (Curt A. Rivard Sr.) (SirCARSr.2-17-13)

0

Feb 22, 2013

Feb 22, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC

curt-a-rivard-sr

The Covenant of the Rainbow

Toiled for days, toiled for weeks, toiled for hundreds of years working his fingers to their bones he’s crafting an ark out of gopher wood. Noah tried ever so hard to tell and be a teacher A choosing one from God he spoke as if he was a preacher. No one heeded to his warning and Noah cried and prayed that they all would. It’s now getting to late and he’s wishing that they all were godly good. Getting ready to sail on an ocean full of angel tears he’s not afraid, he’s content in his ark and he has no fears. Two by two they came from all the creepeth corners of the earth He’s so happy that he has his wife and wives for his three sons from birth. For Forty days and forty nights the angels wept from heaven And down on earth every living thing’s nostril was begging. The master didn’t really want to take their breathing air It had to be done because he had a plan and he did care . It was a beautiful night when the dove with an olive leaf took to fight bearing a gift showing Noah he was always right and dry land isn’t too far from his sight. After enduring a test of faith and with no despise he was told and given a promise and in return for his believing eight souls had rainbows were put in there eyes. AMEN (Curt A. Rivard Sr.) (SirCARSr.2-17-13)

23

TOAST "FIRE. . .FIRE!" The house was busily burning down. "Quick. . .quick!" Mum screeched . "Go fetch the marshmallows!" I dashed back into the inferno & emerged long minutes later my eyebrows ablaze my nostril hairs slightly singed The fire had greedily gobbled up all the marshmallows for itself. **** said Mum. "Damn...damn...damn!" slapping me about the head with...each...uttered syllable. "I managed to save a loaf of Mother's Pride!" I cried. "It will have to go!" sighed Mum. And so, we had some toast

0

Aug 26, 2018

Aug 26, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC

donall-dempsey

TOAST

TOAST "FIRE. . .FIRE!" The house was busily burning down. "Quick. . .quick!" Mum screeched . "Go fetch the marshmallows!" I dashed back into the inferno & emerged long minutes later my eyebrows ablaze my nostril hairs slightly singed The fire had greedily gobbled up all the marshmallows for itself. **** said Mum. "Damn...damn...damn!" slapping me about the head with...each...uttered syllable. "I managed to save a loaf of Mother's Pride!" I cried. "It will have to go!" sighed Mum. And so, we had some toast

29

She looks up Blinking at the ringlets that suddenly flop into her curious gaze Gazing down at the strange cracks in the bench in which one’s toes invariably find themselves wedged Reaching out at the twitching nostril of my stunned ten year old brother Pointing at the strange piece of white cheese in the sky whose name seems to imitate a cow Knocking off the hat that seems to magically appear on one’s head and frowning at the peal of laughter following it Calling out to her father and chewing on the hem of his trousers when he seems to find guests more interesting than his one year old daughter My cousin is in her own little world

0

Jul 13, 2019

Jul 13, 2019 at 8:53 PM UTC

CynicalStrawberry

Makes me Smile

She looks up Blinking at the ringlets that suddenly flop into her curious gaze Gazing down at the strange cracks in the bench in which one’s toes invariably find themselves wedged Reaching out at the twitching nostril of my stunned ten year old brother Pointing at the strange piece of white cheese in the sky whose name seems to imitate a cow Knocking off the hat that seems to magically appear on one’s head and frowning at the peal of laughter following it Calling out to her father and chewing on the hem of his trousers when he seems to find guests more interesting than his one year old daughter My cousin is in her own little world

8

I can't say just how long it's been Since I pinched down one nostril and sniffed that stuff in Gave myself over to the sugar of sin Then repeated the other side so my head would spin Maybe it's been a year and a half But I'm starting to shake with the force of my laugh And I can't control the twitching of my calf It's like the boss on my neck is missing staff The lights are much brighter and the sounds smell great It was like this the first time in 2008 Someone'll bring ***** but I just can't wait Now I'm off to find coke, tonight, my only date

0

Oct 11, 2013

Oct 11, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC

venig

*******

I can't say just how long it's been Since I pinched down one nostril and sniffed that stuff in Gave myself over to the sugar of sin Then repeated the other side so my head would spin Maybe it's been a year and a half But I'm starting to shake with the force of my laugh And I can't control the twitching of my calf It's like the boss on my neck is missing staff The lights are much brighter and the sounds smell great It was like this the first time in 2008 Someone'll bring ***** but I just can't wait Now I'm off to find coke, tonight, my only date

12

From turning my eyes, from small to big pupil I snorted that psychedelic drug from nostril again i zoomed out the big world from my head remembering my part is still there to represent but i dont want to speak them no more in this reck society i don't wanna live no more .

0

Apr 26, 2019

Apr 26, 2019 at 5:34 AM UTC

dikade

Snort reck

From turning my eyes, from small to big pupil I snorted that psychedelic drug from nostril again i zoomed out the big world from my head remembering my part is still there to represent but i dont want to speak them no more in this reck society i don't wanna live no more .

10