"nutted" poems
“only” the lonely know (my special sign)
{=}
an incurable silence
the meaningless, wasted touch of a hand,
attached, directed by them from them
to them
a failed reassurance
a classroom, a stadium, cornfield or grove,
so many nutted fallen solitaries fallen to rot
midst a globe of trillions never noticed,
never missed
the silly conceptual that the lonely,
special unique, blessed with a curse,
a specialist status, “only” they afflicted;
with a ken that isolates and yet feels elevated -
oh! I am special
show me one, just one, human who doesn’t truly believe,
they are the onliest loneliest and you will vision
each and every
lonely person who
secret sighs and whose first thoughts are only:
god spare me one more day of being,
fearful of achieving
my very own knowing,
in the invisible place,
the incurable silence award,
reward of another purple heart,
“only” the lonely service ribbon,
my Cain marker
~my special sign~
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
One of those expensive shops
its name in large red alphabet
that wink into the night
its glass doors with handprints
'OPEN', they say
but the face behind the counter
wishes against.
See, I ran into big money
and I will spend it all on chocolate,
enough chocolate for a month.
Grabbing a clinking metal basket
I sprint to the section
of my recent interest
tossing fifty bars of this, twenty blocks of that
some milk white, most coffee black
wrapped in shiny colours and labels
nutted, chipped, tempered, moulded.
I bought a truckload
with a great sense of pride
and contentment with which
loudly, I sighed.
I went home, bathed, dressed
and set the mood right
imbibing first the sweet crinkling of the foil,
I took a generous bite
tongue and nerves at work
but quite early I open my eyes
to the heap of shiny acquisitions
to my first big expense that
stood dimly magnificent
but this time rather
quiety, I sighed.
"I don't like chocolate"
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
If when the thistle wet drip on my log
If when I throw the stone down to flip on my pog
If do the wet log, sog, gets to the gog
Then the bog twist suckle nutted left on the bar
If a man is prized by the dead wind buttel
If it is a sprig of wheat tugging on the chug narg
Then flark my tizzle, wet the bed
Put the thick log on my head
I am not a sped
I just dread the nut
Put it on my fat leg
Put it on my fat one
Oh yes
Oh yes
Now drip the salt, salt my boney
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 10:42 PM UTC
On a trip ship to Saturn Nine
I met this chick on the gunner deck
she was a class one warrior, just like me
we kissed and showed our availability
She took me there and then
I hoped it would never end
she slapped me around
and gave me such a licking
I drop kicked her over the dining table
and she nutted me in the face
you have to be hard core military
when you are fighting out in space
All the grunts were cheering
giving us the go go go
that day fired me up, I was in such a stupor
that's when I lost my virginity to a starship trooper
Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
It's never just ***
How many times does it start that way
And someone ends up falling
Craving more than just a good time
More than just a broke spine
More than secret meetings
Rushed explosions to ecstasy
No emotions
Just rough hard one goal in mind
Then it becomes more
You want slow,sexy, take your time
All night staring in their eyes
Intimacy in the purest form
My hip aligned to your spine
Or your hip aligned to mine
You want more than I need release
You wanna be the release
You want control
You want that hold
Just *** could never give
You want lets actually make a kid
Not **** the ****** broke
**** I nutted in you
**** wats the plan
Plan B is all just *** can give
But pure intimacy gives slow ******
Non stop until you're bearing my kids
Added pleasure bc the love is real
Not just *** and I gotta dip
Don't fall for just *** bc he's fine
And the way he works the **** like he's dying
Like you're the last piece of ***
He'll ever enjoy
Like **** I love this boy
Just *** only ***** your mind
Puts you in places and positions you can't deny
To love but does he love you
Bc just *** got wat he needed
And leaves your heart bleeding
Bc your falling
When just *** was really the plan
So baby close your legs and find a real man
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
Goodbye...why?
Don't leave out the wandering door,
sit and finish these spiraled nutted cookies,
Apple Hill Special from the twisting trees
aging in the generations old summer tilled acreages.
We can glide our right hips over our right thighs
Shut down that calling of faint voices,
chattering through their cocktail party smiles.
While they promise a wealthy life
of building the all the world's a stage,
hammers fall one-two, one-two.
Rest here your child upon this wood plank floor,
see how he crawls swiftly, ambling upwards, notice his mobility?
Child's pose, rest here
The pocked market walls of this tatty room enshrine him,
he has laid his foot falls down, see,
Resounding, forever to re-sound.
Breath in, breathing out
Wait You!
Before you leave,
turn towards the rising horizon,
this foothill sun has still to set.
The day draws on so we can listen, the fiddler,
have you seen him yet? In town? No?
Then you shall not leave until his strings are spent.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC