"nympho" poems
the virgins ravenous vault
college girl ******
a seething abashment
with mixed loyalties
who belongs to no one
ferocious for annihilation
*** blast
poured out from essence
spread shanks
wet spot
hot shots
meditative and gleaming
huge hearted
she is one and many
choking on desire
far flung in Turkish bath fantasies
a singing **** tearing heaps of suns
like burns and spatters
her *** a high pitched note
his **** rage at bay
poised hot **** ****
gasping fire
*** criminal's
foot kissing
****** biters
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
Stop resenting me
For the way I shop
The things I do
To make sure
My food is fresh
I confess I feel blueberries
In my fingers
To make sure they are firm
Not too ripe
I confess I shake
Cans of spaghetti and ravioli
So that I know
The sauce is not
Congealed
I confess I pull frozen waffles
From the back of the freezer
Less likely that they thawed
And refroze into
Oddball shapes
I confess I smell trout
Before I buy it
Placing it against my nose
In the most unabashed
Way
Spare me your hate
About my consumer habits
When I know it has nothing to do with
Food
As long as I bring you warm release
In the darkness of your desires
Pull your tangled hair the way
You like
Bite your darting tongue
In mad hunger
Deep appetite
As long as I reawaken the
Woman
Primal animal hidden
Within
Turn your heat into a river
For a long passionate
Swim
As long as I attend quickly to your
Every ***** command
The craving of your ******
Insatiable
Demand
Then I can squeeze french bread
In quiet and peace
I can sniff cantaloupes
Without suffering ire
Or grief
I’ll take you tonight
In that filthy way
You like
Until then
Leave me alone
I’m shopping.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:15 AM UTC
Dimples
Are simple
If watched
By red freckled Nympho's.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
You **** your teeth loudly,
Smack your lips on ravioli,
Whatever it is I taste of
You can't really say
Meanwhile I've had my face
pushed, mashed on your *****
trying to find life's meaning
with short tongue tight frenulum
Cursed I crave your ***
****** mane grows unkempt
Despite my attempt to
Get some head
...
Dead
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
He was Daniel Kingery to the police.
Daniel Overstreet to his friends.
He was Dollar Dan on the streets.
He was Daniel,
he was wet rough kisses and anger and lust to me.
He found me one day,
18 years to his 37,
he found me when i was still a question mark trying to bleed red.
From behind a lens pointed at my naked flesh
he became a man of mystery,
he became the object of my desires.
I was a young, naive girl who got caught up in
how his pockets were always full- he flaunted it.
The flowers and the exotic dinners and the alcohol and the touch...
oh god, the way we fell into bed,
onto chairs,
into walls.
Then i fell in love on a broken sidewalk.
I was blind to the empty shadows in his eyes,
to the lines he had recited,
to the webs on his face.
I made a god out of a sociopath and i called him "love".
I was his ****** his baby blue.
I became wild under his touch,
manic when he gave me his attention,
suicidal at his leaving.
I was a flower that once was his favorite,
but he left me on the windowsill at a slow, burning wilt
and forgot to water me most days.
Why water a flower when you could have a garden?
Have you ever hated what you loved
until even their existence ate at you?
I have.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
In your very pure mouth ( god save it )
clanked metal mouthpiece
by cold water in a strange basement
or perhaps even less
Morning doves catapult
leukemia
Astro goth acid wars
White fire black ****** mania
Could we just kiss
right here this September
not have to wake up
or sleep ever again ?
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 3:43 AM UTC
So I haven't had time
To read many prose and rhymes
Sneaking pretty words like drugs
From all the **** poem writing thugs
Hide up under the bar
I've only read two so far
Work is cutting in to my addiction
Reading and writing, my affliction
Maybe I can hide in the storage closet
That gives me time to write one comment
Jotting rhymes on my arm
Who said poetry didn't cause harm
Its my obsession
This is my confession
I cannot hide it anymore
I recognise I'm a poem *****
I go from one poem to another
"Feeling" them up like a lover
Then on to the next
For more word ***
Yep, I'm a nympho-poemac
Addicted to poetry crack
Your pretty words are my drugs
And you **** poets are the poem writing thugs
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
Red headed ******
Skin white and fluffy.
Marshmallow.
Spots on his skin,
Like dots of tan.
Leopard.
Mind always on ***
Fan of internet ****
******
Smokes himself to death,
Always ******* on a cig.
Vacuum.
Always saying **** my ****
But only to men?
Closet ***
Looking for something to ****
I'm worried for the neighborhood squirrels.
**********
Loves drinking some beer,
But only likes it light.
*****
Always gives a good laugh,
Stupid *** smile.
Best Friend.
Drinking is okay,
Jesus drank wine.
Catholic.
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 9:45 PM UTC
My nail polish
peels
like wallpaper
on a dead house
and i suppose
thats
what i am
a dead house
decrepit and torn
broken
down and old
from 16 years
of broken mentality
***
Nympho-manically wanted
Lips, Hips, thighs.
But what if thats
gone
and my wallpaper is
peeling like ripe fruit
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Dear God. i hope You’re listening, i need to get close. im steady running in the same position.
i can’t get close.
my fingers hurt because i’ve been trying to pen down a letter to her & me & You for me.
im trying to be good.
these past few days i’ve been trying to get my thoughts in unison. working on harmonizing my processes & prioritizing my priorities.
im going to be raw.
i wrote letters to her but every single time i think of sending them to her, i remember that i won’t get much weight with my actions. so i throw them away.
im steady running in the same position.
she’s been thugging lately, in a good way.
i won’t even try to make sense tonight, i’ll let words flow.
****** of the youthful mind, hold me.
play softly, the strings at the back of my mind. be attentive, this tune will catch you.
she’s stroking my medulla oblongata, painting vivid images of passion.
steady running in the same position.
ever looked at someone and feel a conversation going on between your souls? no verbal action, just distance & the space between the two of you.
im steady running from nymphos of the youthful mind.
Father, hope You’re listening. help me to not bend Your will.
i’ve been good. dry cleaned my suit, im ready to walk with You.
i need to get close. but i can’t get close to You.
but im steady running in the same position.
****** of the youthful mind, tell me what do you want me to do to help you, help me, help you. she’s been straight thugging.
ever been so close to a beautiful conversation yet words halt at the opening and you’re left stuck with regret? days later, you remake the scenario and polish on what you could’ve said.
i wrote a letter to her & me & you for me. but i threw it away. wouldn’t have made a significant change anyway.
****** of the youthful mind, i need to get close.
but im steady running in the same position.
she’s been thugging. hat low, sweatpants low, afro hair, smooth skin, smooth **** dancing under the moonlight.
scorpion eyes, deadly eyes. i need to get close.
****** of the youthful mind, my gangster, i need you to stroke my medulla and play a thousand songs at the back of my mind.
im not trying to make sense, i was just trying to let thoughts flow.
Dear Father, can i run away? i want to run away with her, to a place nobody knows. us.
but please help me not to bend Your will.
send me to a golden forest, to the Garden of Eden, so she & i can be Adam & Eve.
we will be good. before then, i need to get close.
****** sing. sing me to sleep, sing away my troubles. i will run away with you.
Father, hope You’re listening. i need to get close, help me not to bend Your will. but i can’t get close. to You.
open the gates for me, im outside.
i need to take control of me and pour out vibes so hard the universe capsizes. ****** of the youthful mind, run away with me.
i wrote a letter to her & i & you for me. but then i threw it away.
don’t even try and make sense of the words i wrote.
don’t ask me how im feeling, just keep your eye on the poetry.
TeddyBearTribe.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
Find yourself
against again
all odds, with
the prettiest
****** in
this whole
region.
Gently caresses,
she does,
your genitals
says the
wittiest
repartee.
Come, calm
down, old
man it's
just your
imagination,
wake up to
that headache.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
addressing my southpaw weakness...
don't know... my left hand is a bit...
weak...
started to train it...
by extinguishing cigarette
butts on each other knuckles...
have two vacant slots to fill...
and plenty of whiskey...
why?
i paid my Shylock...
i was **** with the Gorbachev
**** on my right shoulder blade...
now comes the fun part!
the lesson...
of boxing, with not boxing gloves!
i want the middle finger knuckle
to... hurt... the... the most...
like Tom Waits'
circus narrative...
**** these teenage girls cutting...
how about their start burning
themselves,
with hot, metallic objects?
how's that?
less blood!
ha ha!
two knuckles down...
two to go...
i'm giggling with anticipation...
while, i, eat,
the, pain! ha ha!
who gives a **** about
predictability,
preachers / theologians
or stock brokers?
so who?
the Turkish barbers,
the English tailors,
the French chefs?!
who?
the roof, the roof,
the roof is on fire,
let the ************ burn...
we don't don't need no
water let the ************ burn,
let the ************ burn...
i'm a simpleton...
catch the genie... catch the lamp
sort of scenario...
otherwise?
bon voyage / bon soir /
mon amí!
god, i hate the french!
it's like...
you want to lick them...
face to face...
and then... punch them...
my type of ****** nationalism!
comes the third knuckle...
and the cigarette...
it will be put out onto!
- like an interrogator might...
you show the victim undergoing
the torture, with yourself
prior...
and then?
torture the **** out of them! ha ha!
i.e. who's the buckle,
who's the knuckle, and who's the knee?!
oh please! please!
don't mention the oysters
of the elbow!
have some common decency!
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:52 PM UTC
When did I become a ******
I lost my virginity somewhere in between,
Random one nightstands...
And drunken ******
Virginity lost so long ago
Can't even remember why I lost it for
Now I find myself on the delivering end
Of some woman who tommorrow,
I won't even be remembering
I don't want to be misleading
I actually have feelings for these women
But it seems to get ********** at the end of each meeting
Than they just become another notch on my belt,
Which I guess is good
Because it seem like the more notches I get
Seem to prove my manhood
When did I become a ******
Maybe it was in the 8th grade,
When I got addicted to ****
Or when I got to college,
And it became so easy to get a drunk female,
To my dorm
When did I become a ******
When did *** become an addiction
Maybe in high school when all the dudes would brag,
About females they than hit
And I just got tired of listening
So having *** became a mission
When did I become a ******
I guess somewhere in between,
Losing my virginity with my first love
And the women I slept with last night,
Just because
When did I become a ******
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
you are the words that breathe through me. lift, move me. the item for a shopper's perusing; for use and abuse-ing. i'm your bend over barbie doll, your late night ***** call, the push over & the fall. i scrape myself off your boot; keep waiting for trees to bear fruit. it's funny how you can **** me til i'm lame & i still believe i deserve more pain.
how can i believe i'm worth your while when i know you don't care about proving it to me? it's so much sexier for you to see me beg, watch me grovel & worship your **** as if you are my only hope (for all intensive purposes, i mostly believe you are; you save me from facing myself at night. seminated distraction as masochistic salvation).
leave me mangled gasping hair tangled in your fingers grasping & you're lingering by the door, contemplating whether to leave me or take me on the floor. this is all i am to you: tested tried wrong used. bleed me until you stop seeing red, drag me willing or indifferent back to your bed.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Between these sheets of satin love
Violence breaks cherries
Serenity found in screams and moans
Yeah babe this is a *** poem
About how I'm going to take from you
The last of your innocence
As you put my demonic instincts on a leash
There will be blood
As if Jack the Ripper
Found his way between your legs
The pierced silence quivers as lips curve back
Hiding under your teeth
Moans rupture as hair gets pulled
*** cheeks spanked leaving clues
As to whom it was that made you a ******
Begging, pleading, praying for more
As the width of my **** grows
Pushing harder onto your ***** walls
The gravity defying length of its throbbing prowess
Plunging ten thousand leagues into your soul
The violent serenity of our *** life
Becomes a perfect portrait
We paint every night with the stains
Our love produces onto bed spreads
Needing to be burned after such defilement
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC
****** distresses
Insatiably
Only you
Can satisfy
The primal
Urges
Which you have
Inflicted
Upon me
Shackled
To the arrest
Of your
Seductive allures
Slave to your
Sensual pleasures
Prisoner to my
Ambitions
To be the
Utmost of your
Sensuous
Pursuits.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
*****
****
*****
******
*****
nope. no more.
I'm sick. sick of you
let a girl have *** if she wants too
let a girl have emotions if she wants to
let a girl be herself without you judging her every detail and flaw
******* stop
you don't know her
you don't know her life
you probably don't even know her family
so stop judging based on what you can see till you can dig a little deeper.
either look closer or don't look at all with those beady little ******* eyes.
get over who you are.
because you may think you're perfect, but that girl you called a **** is calling you a *****
and you're repeating the cycle.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
You've expressed you feel a ****** disconnect.
Feel yourself some kind of alien pilot.
What's love in this, this human shell?
What's self-respect, esteem as well?
You're ******* weird and that's okay with me.
You told me for the first time, I'm queer.
That's cool. If I'm your ****** you're my ace pilot.
You're ace as **** default, I'm gray ace at best.
Why do we sit this dusty rock ridge between worlds?
If you're one, I've seen this alien's appeal.
The most delicious sight of your skin shown will have to go on ignored. And that's fine. That's fine.
I'm your little ******
You're my ace pilot.
And that's fine.
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC
He told me that he was afraid.
He told me that he had loved just one girl in his life.
And that she had crossed Seven seas and eight worlds by this lonely moment
That we were caught up in the swirls of the green grassy smoke of Mary and Jane.
He told me that I was too pretty for his eyes, mind and soul.
I told him,
It’s a heat and that I was not there to **** him.
I told him that we were just caught in the jingle of the purest heat,
I told him to relax and sleep.
And that I will not touch him.
I told him that I’m a sweet ******
I told him to stop staring at me with those sweet puppy eyes,
So that I can control my arousal, nausea and heat.
I snuggled close to him on a single bed,
Lulling him and sending strong telepathic heat.
After a while, he turned.
He asked how wrong it would be if he would go soft in between the sacred art of love,
I told him that is the passion and that is the heat.
And that it is to be simply genuine to your rushes wherein *** comes.
I told him *** is not an exam.
I told him that *** is a rush.
I told him that *** is the Heat.
I told him to be simply genuine.
I told him *** is to love.
I asked him if he loved me.
He said, ‘Ami tomako Bhishon Bhalo bhashi’,
Which is Bengali for, ‘I love you very much’.
I creased my brows
And scorned at him saying that he’d just met me,
He said,
That was enough,
And that I was his own soul,
In flesh and Blood.
We made sweet sweet love,
That night.
All night,
On the cold floor of his shabby apartment,
On that sweaty night,
When power was never there.
I went to my flat in the morning,
I bid him goodbye by the evening train,
I never asked his name.
It was as if I had to know it later,
Not now.
Not today.
Not this week, month or year.
Just another age.
He never asked my name.
He must’ve felt the same.
For telepathy, never cheats.
Today, I wonder. I trip.
And I imagine him as all that I want,
For all that I know is his sweet puppy eyes,
And the ablaze heat that taught me that somewhere,
There lies a momentary passion bigger than me,
Inside me.
Waiting to burn, Roast and Shrink
My ego, my identity and myself!
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
She'll always be mine, in my mind, she was just too kind, she didn't see I was blind, she didn't hear me in rewind, gripping the gears we grind. Slipping through the best time of my life.
My heart's shredded like weak lettuce, no function ****** relapsing sex-addict. Choice is asymptomatic my anticlimactic, sexless ****** maggot.
She found out, I was ground out, last boxing bout. Hot flame snuffed out, no more volcano spout, just get the **** our , you're off this route.
This is my dream now, gotta get back somehow. I gotta get a rolls Royce, then she'll feel my voice. No need to waste no more words, she only wants a new purse, she gonna jet or else.
Sorry story has yet to unfold, I'm bearing my soul so don't betray my song. Ice any intuition, your heart will always win. This body is prepossessed, we are slaves to libido's blessing.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
or the guys who love a ******
they say you should move on to the next
cause when you ain't the one who's ******* her
she find somebody else for ***
these ****** women will love you for your heart
but love another for ***
and for the real men out here i know yall won't go for that
to much *** only leads to 2 things
that's a disease and a baby
then once it happens
you'll lie to your man cause you know things will get crazy
trying to be slick when yall use protection
trying to be slick when yall change yall phones
when a man already knows whats going on
at that moment there she ready to cheat
that feeling of randsom hits her
it turns up her heat
Then once she get to you she tease you into ***
just to make it seem she's won
I be **** if imma fall into a trap
Cause i much rather be done
when thats the stuff that they wanna be on
shoot don't back to me when im gone
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
We were lying on the lawn
In the park when the Shooting star,
Made its first appearance.
"Make a wish honey, you'll not live forever",
He told me.
I looked at him with the same contempt,
I’d given birth to,
Since the day of our holy oath.
"There's an old man called God,
in the sky is what world preaches.
No.
There is just a man in the sky, *********** shooting stars too hot n bright.”
I finished with sparkling euphoria.
"you ******
He addressed me, to deliver a mocking pat,
But his heavy muscles excited itself too much,
And my skin broke red a drop
Upon his slap too tight.
***** mouthed *****
He emphasized his love again,
Hence I shut my mouth too *****
And stared at the starless sky.
Sarah the ***** passed by,
And he asked her if she'd spotted the shooting star.
Sarah's lips shrunk too little,
And she nodded a hefty no.
And he got up on his legs,
And walked away from me.
I saw him moving his hands down her jeans,
And Sarah bent further down.
Then, I saw another shooting star.
And my rage wished for a gun in my palm,
And,
Lo, there it was.
A sleek black gun too comfy in my palm.
I could see their back.
I could see Sarah bending,
Responding to his fingers down her jeans.
And then he pulled down her negligee' too transparent,
Ripping off at his touch.
Then, he turned and looked at me.
I saw his eyes widening the focus on my gun
And his brows creasing.
I clicked the safety off.
I wanted to lock the eye contact,
And savor it for my eternal future.
And I shot once, straight into his heart,
That dragged him to the ground,
Dead with a tent in his pants.
Then, I shot again.
Just to sweep the obscenity off the frame,
His ********
And then, I looked at Sarah.
Another shooting star passed by.
'Make a wish hon, you'll not live forever'
I told her.
She closed her eyes.
I shot her four times.
Mouth, ****** left
And then the right breast, just to emphasize.
And then, something heavy stuck my chest.
I looked at Sarah and the big gun in her left hand.
I gaped and gasped at my bullet hole.
I said,
"Shot with a shooting star,
******
I should've ordered a tank.”
She shot me thrice, in the head.
Then, we're both dead.
And then, there was just stars.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
She loves him,
or at least, a part of him.
She does what she does,
she loves on a whim.
© Matthew Harlovic
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC
What will you do when the flesh shrivels.
When the lines form.
When the cosmetics refuse to cover.
When the ****** becomes fickle.
When the baby comes.
When the abuse you feel.
Oh darling flesh....
When will you yield?
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Danny was a good boy
He kept his engine going
But he never found joy
He had many CDs
But he left them in a pile
He had a girlfriend
But he hasn't ****** the ****** in a while
So much for love
She threw him into exile
He was her toy
Her lover boy
The island fit him like a glove
He started to smile
Without her constant trail
He was a freeman
Setting sail
**** this love
He has music
Sad music
Doesn't have the same effect anymore
Die young drink a **** load
Oh boy death!
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC