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Lucas Scott Jan 13
I

I celebrate my pants, and sing my pants,
And what I wear you shall wear,
For every thread belonging to me as good belongs to you.

II

I saw the best pants of my generation destroyed by madness, bleaching faded skinny,
dragging themselves through the crowded malls at noon looking for the perfect selfie,
man-bunned hipsters burning for the contemporary digital connection to the social dynamo in the machinery of online relevance

III

Let us go Pants, you and I,
With evening wash spread out against the sky
Like a ghost dancing upon the breeze;
Let us go, through certain half-full baskets,
The smelly caskets
Of unwashed trousers from one-week neglected hampers.

IV

Something there is that doesn't love my pants,
That sends the frayed-torn-cuffs under it,
And spills my muffin top in the sun;
And makes love handles even two can hold to love.

V

I have stolen
the pants
that were in
the dressing room

and which
you were probably
wearing
for a party

Forgive me
they were comfy
so soft
and so stylish


VI

Because I could not fit my Pants –
I kindly split the Seam –
The Problem is quite obvious –
I need some stronger Jeans.

VII

The patterns on your pants   
Could make a designer cry;   
But I hung on to your stance:   
Plaid boldly with tie-dye.

VIII

Call the maker of big pants,
The fabulous one, and bid him zip
In seamstress studs sumptuous sewing.

IX

What happens to lost pants?

      Do they stiffen up
      like paper as it dries?
      Or do they balloon up —
      and into the sky rise?

X

I bought some tremendous pants
and held them beside the cart
half off the hanger, with the hook
fast in the belt loop around the waist.
There was no fight.
No one had fought at all.
They hung a defeated weight,
overlooked and spurned.
Dominic Gasbarre Apr 2014
I am pants
Pants am I
When I see myself
I want to cry

Me is pants
Pants is me
I think that
I'm real ******

They are pants
Pants are they
I hate them
Every single day
fairyenby Jul 2017
It drives me insane when people see me holding a girls hand and ask
“So who’s the guy? You know, who wears the pants?”
I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS. Firstly, neither of us are ever wearing any pants. I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS, and i’m angry because lesbian does not always have to mean woman but where did you get man from? I’m angry because maybe sometimes one of us does identify as a guy. A gay boi with an I. A soft boy. A proud hairy legged 5”4 boy. A drinking pints in the pub with my dad and us both liking that same woman’s tattoo boy. A cries every day boy. A feels cool when drinking beer boy. A boy that had to teach themself to like beer boy. A boy who sometimes does not feel like a boy. A boy. A boy. Oh boy. Boys. You see, this question is confusing for me because when I was fourteen, my boyfriend and I would joke that I was the one wearing the pants, even though at that point I was very much still wearing skirts and hiding behind ****-length hair and also watching the L Word in secret when I got home from school but that’s besides the point. This question is obviously as confusing for you as it is for me because in your mind you see two pairs of **** holding hands on the tube and think: Lesbians. Now, which one’s the man? And I think to myself, there are two ways to answer this: Number 1: So I know lesbian is supposed to mean woman on woman, two vaginas, *******, strap-ons, veganism, art degrees (and a lot of this is true but let’s not stereotype). So I know that to you, although we appear to be two women, two snap-back wearing, sports-bra bearing- I mean I thought about writing *****- tearing here but it just doesn’t seem appropriate- women, the funny thing is that erm, you see, gender and sexuality: as different as my dad to my mum’s other ex-husband. We are not a man and a woman. We are two people and what do pants have to do with it? We are two people and why does one of us always have to be a man? We are two people and the awkward part of the point i’m making is that sometimes I don’t feel like a woman but you wouldn’t know that so let me say: we are not a man and a woman. We did not ask for your confrontation, we are not your designated driver, your answer sheet to an exam you haven’t sat yet, your house party when your parents go away, your girlfriend that you think is obliged to **** your **** even though you will not go anywhere near her ****.  You are not our three year old son who asks too many inappropriate questions. To you, we are strangers and to answer your question, you seem to think that you’re wearing the pants here. So wear them. By the way, Number 2: *******.
this is a draft nd might be changed but also might not be so

yeah

I got angry again

x
Tammy M Darby Feb 2017
To my friend from Down Under



I was driving down the road and what did I see
But a grasshopper with his pants on fire
With a snake hot on his tail he was moving his feet
That grasshopper with his pants on fire

Hopping high as he could go
A moving fast and ducking low
That grasshopper with his pants on fire
Well the snake was closing in and his race was soon to end
With that grasshopper with his pants on fire

The hopper tightened up his hopping
The snake knew there was no stopping
That grasshopper with his pants on fire

He’s got long legs for a reason
He's the toast of the season
Silly grasshopper with his pants on fire


All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Feb. 16, 2017
TS Jul 2017
Shoved in a plastic grocery bag under the boxes of Christmas decorations is where I found my crazy pants today.

Dusty and discarded, I looked at them. They were softer than I remember.

When I would act irrational or angry or even sleepy, my family gave it the term 'cranky pants' 'angry pants' or ' sleepy pants'. It was a kind way to say, "hey stop acting ridiculous!"

When I was committed to a psychiatric facility, I wasn't allowed to wear the clothes I had on because it posed a threat or hazard to my safety or that of the other patients. They gave you scrubs instead. They were cold and miserable.

One afternoon, I saw one of the other patients wearing sweatpants and I was thrilled to see that was an option. I spent 90% of my time there fighting to get a pair. Finally on day 9, I was gifted a beautiful pair of Heather white sweatpants that had elastic at the bottom and smelled like bleach.

My crazy pants.

I wore them because I was crazy, or so I told myself.

When I was discharged, I got to keep them and would occasionally wear them again but mostly when I felt more bipolar swings happening.

They found their way to a bag in the closet and remained there for months.

Just like my bipolar swings, they hid for a while, stagnant, waiting.

And just like my bipolar swings, they found their way back and now that's all I want to wear. My loony, angry, depressed, crazy pants.

-t.s.
Margaret May 2014
Once I wore Yoga Pants to school
That day I got asked out 3 times
All nice guys
All nice people
But I said no to all of them
Why?
Because something about those
pants made them see something
they hadn't noticed before
And I didn't like that.
I didn't like the fact that they didn't
see who I was in a **** dress
or in jeans
or in other clothes
All they noticed was how my ****
looked in Yoga Pants
I wanted them to ask me out
when I wasn't wearing tight pants
*Is that too much to ask?
I hope you all know what i'm trying to say :-)
AJ Sep 2014
You look at me and you frown in jealousy.
Yeah, you secretly know I have swag.
Pants a little low, black and red shirt that says
“Sit down and learn from the Master,”
and a matching hat that states what you already know-
“FRESH”

You taste the bitterness of your words as you whisper lies to my back.
Yeah, you secretly know I don’t care.
Pants a little low, red and yellow shirt that says
“My swoosh is bigger than yours”
and a matching hat of who you think I resemble-
Superman

You hear the high pitched hissing that I’m doing well and hope that I fail.
Yeah, you secretly know I’ll succeed.
Pants a little low, black and blue shirt that says
“Just Did It”
and a matching hat that reminds you of what you need to do-
“OBEY”

You touch my strong shaped shoulders with yours and utter no apology.
Yeah, you’re secretly freaking out with excitement.
Pants a little low, blue and red shirt that says
“Don’t Bro Me If You Don’t Know Me”
and a matching hat with the best known bickering buddies-
Tom and Jerry

You smell my confidence in the aroma of chocolate axe and you pinch your nose.
Yeah, you’re secretly going to buy it later.
Pants a little low, black and white shirt that says
“Don’t sweat my swag”
and a matching hat that proclaims my feelings for you-
“I <3 Haters” and under the brim it says why-
“MOTIVATION”
Wrote this poem in my senior yr in HS when I finally accepted myself as a more masculine lesbian and felt comfortable being who I was despite people's criticisms. As you can see I was oozing with new confidence. Still one of my favs lol
No- oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Stop trying to get in my pants
No- oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Caught you with your hands in my pants

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah
Drama-mamamia
La la oh lala
Stop staring I have no pants.

You’ve seen my ugly,
you’ve seen where I ***,
you’ve seen my thing-thing,
Hell no it’s not free,
You’re out of luck
(Luck luck luck, Your out of luck)

Don’t call my mama,
Lady im not your **** man,
Ive seen better loving in a bad movie scene,
Youre out of luck,
Luck-luck-luck
Youre out of luck
(Luck-luck-luck youre out of luck)

**** ***** I don’t want you,
And you know I cant stand you,
Your just so bad,  one hell of a chance,

You want my stuff and
All I can do is just wretch,
You and me don’t have  a hell of a chance
No-oh-oh-oh-oh
You want my stuff and
All I can do is just wretch,
You and me don’t have  a hell of a chance

No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no!
You wont get into my pants,
No-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
You wont get into my pants.
Inspired By Lady Gaga's Bad Romance
David Walker Dec 2012
Origins
written and directed
by
David Walker

Inspired
by
the films of
Quentin Tarantino
David Lynch
&
Rob Zombie

There is method
To his madness

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                  January 2013              
                                              ­                                                                 ­                       first draft









1. EXT. Run down project apartment complex - 3:00 am

A dark, tall figure with long black hair and a trenchcoat opens the already cracked red door.

MAN:
I'm looking for love in all the wrong places.

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
INT. Apartment 3

A typical roach infested apartment with a kitchen built into the living room. 3 GIRLS are on the kitchen floor. GIRL # 1 one has black hair with big lips and a curvy frame and she is wearing a pair of Tripp pants and a black bra barely covering her ample *****. She has a flesh colored rubber hose tied to her left arm. GIRL # 2 has dyed rainbow colored hair, a nice smile, and a skinny frame. She is wearing a pair of tore blue jeans with smiley faces and cute in jokes written on them, also not wearing a shirt with a lacy blue bra on. She has a spoon with water and black tar ****** inside it which she is heating up with a silver Zippo with the word "Skittles" engraved into it. GIRL # 3 Has long naturally red hair, glasses and an extremely voluptuous figure. She is wearing tight black pants and a black shirt with thin sleeves. She is inspecting a covered syringe with an unsure look in her eyes.

GIRL # 2:
So, do you wanna do it or not Jane?

Snatches the syringe out of JANE's hand.

JANE:
I'm not sure. How long have you been doing this ****?

Girl #2 takes the orange cap off the syringe revealing a small needle.

GIRL #2:
Since after I graduated. About 3 years. Liz you ready?

LIZ:
As ready as I am for dat sweet tang!

Girl #2 giggles. She sticks the needle into Liz's arm, blood mixes with the brown fluid inside, and she pushes the plunger down. Liz leans back into Girl #2's arms and Girl #2 gives her a kiss.

LIZ:
I love you, Julia.

JULIA:
Well, I love you too.

JANE:
You guys are so gay!

(OS):
Save that **** for the ******* customers!

                                                     ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
Other side of room. A greasy looking MAN with short faded black hair and a scar going from the corner of his mouth to the right ear is sitting in a beat up recliner cleaning his Uberti 1873 Cattleman revolver while smoking a fat blunt and watching some kind of high budget **** with Sasha Grey in it.

JULIA:
Sorry, Mike. It didn't stop you from leaving me and Liz unsatisfied and bored, did it?

LIZ and JULIA laugh. JANE has a nervous look in her eyes.

MIKE:
Very ******* funny you wore out trick! Am I gonna have to smack the sass out yo mouth?

MIKE gets up, puts out his blunt and walks over to the GIRLS gun in hand.

MIKE:
Or am I gonna have to give your little friend a scar like mine.

LIZ:
Mike don't!

MIKE SLAPS JULIA with the side of his UNLOADED revolver and grabs JANE by her hair.

MIKE:
Who the **** are you, anyways *****?

JANE:
(stuttering)
I was walking down the street earlier today and I ran into Julia and Liz. They went to school with my sister I think. Let me go!

MIKE:
So you're a young'n. Well you have some nice big *******!

MIKE RIPS off her shirt exposing her *******. He begins to squeeze the right one. JANE SLAPS MIKE HARD!

MIKE:
*****!

MIKE lets go of her hair. Jane runs to the other room grabbing her shirt. LIZ stumbles towards him and PUNCHES him in the nose.

MIKE:
That's it! You little *** dumpsters are dead!

MIKE picks up the REVOLVER, runs to the chair where the bullets are and tries to reload. JULIA wakes from her daze. We see him load 3 rounds. All of a sudden the DOOR gets broken down and the dark clad FIGURE from the scene before pulls out a BERETTA M9 with a silencer attachment. MIKE FIRES 2 shots at him haphazardly missing both. The MAN LAUGHS and FIRES one shot that MIKE's crotch catches.

                                                       ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
2. INT. Next door in Apartment 2.

A MAN and WOMAN in their early 40's are smoking a joint and seem disturbed by the gunfire.

MAN:
(coughing)
What the hell was that?

WOMAN:
Sounded like gunshots. Do you think we should call the cops?

MAN:
**** no! There is a pound of chronic in the bedroom closet! Just pray whoever it is doesn't come over here!

WOMAN:
Okay. Are you gonna pass that?

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                     CUT TO:
3. INT. Apartment 3.

The smoke has cleared. MIKE is begging for death and BLEEDING out everywhere, JULIA is in a daze, dumbfounded by what she just witnessed, LIZ is cowering in fear, crying, and JANE just came out of the bedroom with her TORN SHIRT on and a terrified "Oh my God" expression. The unknown assailant has a devilish grin upon his face.

MIKE:
Godfuck! **** me you sunuvabitch! Godda--

The MAN obliges. He fires a single shot into his RIGHT EYE.

MAN:
Well, looks like I got here in the nick of time!

JULIA:
(blankly)
W-Who the **** are you?

MAN:
That is of little importance right now. Who are you foxy ladies?

JULIA:
M-My name's Julia. That girl over there (points to Liz) is Liz, and the ginger is Jane.

MAN:
What pretty names! Well, I have a question. Will you three lovely young ladies gather round that despicable looking chair and listen to what I have to say, or are you going to run? Keep in mind I have rope in my trenchcoat and the fact I mean you no harm. I am just a lonely man with a story to tell, and the way I see it, what with that bruise on your sweet face, you kinda owe me.

JULIA:
I think we can stay. I just wanna know your name.

MAN:
Ahh, but I am a man of many names. My christian name is Derek. You don't need the last for now.

DEREK walks to the chair and sits down. He waves the GIRLS over.

DEREK:
C'mon I just want to tell my tale. Look, I will put the gun under the chair as a sign of good faith that neither you girls or I will start shooting the place up again. Are we square ladies?

JULIA:
What do ya say guys?

They gather in the kitchen.

LIZ:
This guy has a ***** loose.

JULIA:
Yes, but he saved us from our ****. We should humor him.

JANE:
I think he is hot!

LIZ and JULIA just stare at JANE.

JANE:
Sorry, but he is.

JULIA:
So it's agreed. We will listen to his story, silently pray he doesn't **** us and leave afterwards.

The GIRLS walk to the chair. DEREK has lit the blunt.

DEREK:
Ahh, so you have decided to join me. Good. Do you guys wanna hit this?

LIZ and JULIA shake their heads no.

JANE:
I will.

DEREK:
Great. Now, where do I begin. I suppose everybody's roots stem from childhood, so lets go back, oh say, 20 years ago.

                                                           ­       FADE TO BLACK        
Against black, TITLE CARD

October 15th 1995.

                                                          ­                       CUT TO      
4. EXT. Suburbia circa 1995.

There are three boys between the ages of 6 and 9 playing in front of a grey HOUSE with a white MINIVAN in the driveway. Little DEREK is a scrawny 6 year old boy with short brown hair and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure in his hands. The 2 other BOYS ages 7 and 9 are picking on him and trying to take away DONATELLO.

DEREK:
Leave me alone or I will whoop your ****.

BOY #1:
Whatever! You are scrawny and lame. Give us your Ninja Turtle now or we will beat you up!

BOY #2 picks up a STICK and starts hitting DEREK with it.

BOY #2:
What are you going to do? Get your daddy? Oh, wait...that's right, you don't have one!

The 2 BULLIES start laughing. A look of hatred fills young DEREK's eyes. He catches the STICK and slaps BOY #2 in the face with it. He then tackles him and starts beating him mercilessly. BOY #1 runs towards the PORCH and knocks on the DOOR. DEREK'S MOM answers. She is in her mid 30's with brown hair and casual clothing on, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of "coffee."

BOY #2:
Derek's beating up Josh again!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, good for him! Bet that little pecker snot deserved it too. Now, Brad...why don't you take you and your friend on home before I tell your dad you play with Barbies.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
My mother was a sweet ol' broad!

BRAD:
(sighs)
Okay, Ms. Walters, but you do know you are going to have to pull him offa Josh right?

DEREK'S MOM:
(sighs like Brad)
I suppose.

DEREK'S MOM and BRAD walk to the front yard and GASP when they notice that DEREK has knocked out 2 of JOSH'S baby teeth, both in the front and broke his nose, which is bleeding profusely.

DEREK'S MOM:
Derek Charles Walters! Get the **** up offa him!

DEREK:
(crying)
He hit me with a stick!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, now I'm about to!

She picks up the STICK and beats his *** with it several times.

DEREK:
******* *****!

DEREK'S MOM, infuriated throws the stick down and SLAPS him across the face. DEREK runs away.
He runs to a wooded area in the back yard as far as his legs can take him.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
Do not weep, for on that day, I met God and Satan incarnate and it turns out they existed singularly in my head.
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                          CUT TO:

5. JANE:
Like a conscience?

DEREK:
Much more. These guys are in the room right now and only I can see him. Satan led me to you guys tonight! Who knows what kind of CRAZY hijinks are in store!

JULIA:
That's it I'm outta here! C'mon gu--

DEREK fires of his M9 1 time.

DEREK:
Now, listen to me you dykey, ****** *****. I have 3 more rounds in this ******* and one
of them is reserved for you if you don't sit your tight *** back down.

JULIA sits back down scared to death. DEREK regains his composure and is "all smiles" again.

DEREK:
Phew! I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want someone pretty to listen to my ******* story. ****, if you want, I will ask you guys about yourself later on, but for now I'm going to introduce you to my best friends.

JANE:
Who are they again?

DEREK:
Ah, you were trying to pay attention. I will remember that. They go by many names. One can be called "God", "Heroic Harry", "The White Knight", whatever you envision as good, this **** is it. He is the reason you guys are still alive.

LIZ:
And the other?

DEREK:
Ahh, him. He can go by "Satan", "The ******", "The Angel of Death." He's the reason ol' crusty here no longer bothers you.

LIZ:
So you're basically ape ****, right?

DEREK:
Pretty much! Now where was I? Ah...yes

                                                       ­                                                                 ­                                    CUT TO:

6. INT. Small wooded area behind the house --- Early evening.

DEREK has made himself a nice little HANGOUT in the woods! there is a trunk with tons of comics in it, an arsenal of sharpened sticks and rocks, Batman action figures, and a Game Boy Color. He is drawing a picture at the moment.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
There I was in my element. ****** at my mother, then all of a sudden, a deep, angelic voice rang out.

VOICE #1:
(OS...of course)
You don't have to hate her, you know. She loves you.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then another, this voice sounding more playful and mischievous then the other.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, for how long? Do you think she meant to have you?

DEREK:
Where are you guys?

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then they appeared.

A 13 YEAR OLD BOY with BROWN hair and a FLANNEL overshirt over a Nirvana T-SHIRT with baggy torn blue JEANS with stains on them appears.

BOY #1:
Don't hate your mom.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, watch her close.

DEREK turns his head. We see another BOY roughly the same age with slightly long BLACK hair and a TRENCHCOAT over a Nine Inch Nails T-SHIRT with tight black CHICK PANTS with a CHAIN leading from his pocket to his BELT. He has a lip piercing and he is smoking a cigarette.

DEREK:
Who are you guys?

BOY #1:
Just think of us as older brothers your mom can't see.

DEREK:
Wow! I should introduce you guys to my friends!

BOY #2:
No!

DEREK:
Why not?

BOY #2:
You are the only person that can see us. Don't go telling anyone and don't talk to us in front of anyone. People will think you are nuts!

BOY #1:
Think of us as two ghosts that give you advice. Don't listen to him though, he'll get you in trouble.

BOY #2:
Shut up! Or I will kick your *** again.

BOY #1:
Not in front of him. He doesn't need to see that ****. Not now

DEREK:
What are your names?

BOY #1:
That's up to you.

DEREK:
I'll call you Joe, and him Jerry.

JOE:
Works for me, for now. Call us whatever you feel like calling us whenever you like. If you wanna call me ******* and him poophead, go right ahead.

DEREK:
Okay, but for now you guys are Joe and Jerry.

JOE:
We are going to leave now. We will show up when we think the time is right. Sometimes you will see us others you won't, but we are always with you.

JERRY:
Even when you ****.

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                     CUT TO:
7. INT. Apartment 3.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
And then I went back home and they disappeared. I reconciled with my mom and for the next few weeks I didn't see them. Brad started hanging out with me again and school was good. The years go by and still no sight of them. 4 years pass by. It's 1999 and my tastes changed. Instead of Ninja Turtles and Batman it was KISS and Freddy Krueger. By this point me and Josh had made up and Brad was in middle school. And so we go to where me and the voices meet again.

8. INT. Taft Elementary
A class of roughly 25 children in your average 5th grade home room with a stout middle aged gentleman teaching. JOSH and DEREK are in the back row sitting side by side.

TEACHER:
...And that's how the metric system works.

JOSH:
(to Derek)
Dude, did you check out RAW last night? The Undertaker crucified Stone Cold!

DEREK:
**** I missed it. I was doing homework.

JOSH:
(loud)
****!!

TEACHER:
What did you say Mr. Jarvis?

JOSH:
Sorry Mr. Cannib. I forgot to do my homework.

MR. CANNIB:
Josh, Derek, outside!

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
The old man had taken kids out of the classroom before and they always came back with tears in their eyes. As we walked outside I heard a familiar voice.

JERRY:
(OS)
If he touches either of you, kick him in the nuts!

MR. CANNIB:
I told you boys too many times! None of this **** in my classroom! Josh get over here you little *****!

OL' TEACH GRABS JOSH by the NECK.

DEREK:
Hey ******* keep your hands to yourself!

CANNIB begins to throttle JOSH. DEREK pushes him off of JOSH and KICKS the TEACHER in the nuts with FURY about 3 times and jumps on top of him while JOSH watches holding his neck.

JERRY:
(OS) While we see Derek's mouth moving

Look here, *******. You think you can be called a teacher for drinking on a farm, ******* cattle and beating children so you can have Summer vacation every year? *******, you spiteful sad man.

DEREK SPITS in the *******'S face and begins to PUNCH him when JOSH pulls him off.

JOSH:
Dude, the door outta here is right there. Lets go to our lockers, get our **** and get outta here.

DEREK:
(Breathing heavily)
Did I just do that? What the ****? Let's get out of here...now!

                                                    ­                                                                 ­                                           CUT TO:
9. EXT. Taft Elementary
A bunch of playground equipment next to an alley with a fenced in field. JOSH and DEREK are walking down the alley. It is sunny outside but about to rain.

DEREK:
That wasn't me that did that.

JOSH:
If it wasn't you who was it?

DEREK:
It w...

JOSH:
(Interrupting)
It reall
judy smith Apr 2015
The Pakistan Fashion Design Council in collaboration with Sunsilk presented the fourth and final day of the eighth PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. Indeed the 8th PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week marked the twelfth fashion week platform initiated by the Pakistan Fashion Design Council [with eight weeks of prêt-à-porter and four of bridal fashion] and was a direct manifestation of the Council’s commitment to sustainability and discipline within the business of fashion and the facilitation of Pakistan’s retail industry. Indeed #PSFW15 endeavoured to define and present trends for 2015, focusing specifically on fashion for the regions’ long hot summer months. Day-4 featured High-Street Fashion shows by the House of Arsalan Iqbal, Erum Khan, Chinyere and Hassan Riaz and designer prêt-à-porter shows by Sana Safinaz, Republic by Omar Farooq, Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan, Sania Maskatiya and HSY.

Speaking about the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week platform, Chairperson of the PFDC, Sehyr Saigol said: “With the 12th iteration of our critically acclaimed fashion weeks, the PFDC is always working to streamline our prêt-à-porter platform to make the PSFW experience more beneficial for all stakeholders in terms of show experience, exposure and ultimately, retail value. To that end, each year we look inward to find the best possible formats and categories to benefit the very trade and business of fashion. In this vein, we introduced 3 separate categories for Luxury/Prêt, High Street and Textile at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week, giving each entirely separate show space, times, audience exposure and viewing power. Our High Street fashion brands had been given a standalone show time on two separate days as early evening shows and Textile brands a separate dedicated day for Voile shows on Day 3 of PSFW 2015, a measured step to further highlight Pakistan’s textile prowess and high street fashion strength which are of significant importance to national and international fashion markets. As per past tradition, we continue to work closely with all our emerging designers and mainstream brands to help hone their collections for the runway through mentorship by senior PFDC Council members and with retail support through the PFDC’s own stores and network. We are grateful for the committed support of our sponsors and partners which provides us the stimulus to further enhance our fashion week platforms and put forth the best face of Pakistani fashion on a consistent basis.”

“The Sunsilk girl is an achiever, with an air of enthusiasm and positivity. Great hair can give her the extra dose of confidence so with Sunsilk by her side, she is empowered to take on life. Fashion is very close to this aspirational Pakistani girl making the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week a highly valued platform for us. We recognize PFDC’s efforts to promote the fashion industry and experienced and upcoming talent alike. Sunsilk has been a part of this fantastic journey for 6 consecutive years and continues to shape aspirations, taking contemporary fashion directly to the homes of consumers and encouraging them to script their own stories of success” said Asanga Ranasinghe, VP Home and Personal Care for Unilever Pakistan.

On the concluding day of #PSFW15, the Chairperson of the PFDC Mrs. Sehyr Saigol also made a special announcement on behalf of the Council and its Board Members, where she shared the Council’s plans to establish Pakistan’s first ever craft based Design District, a multi-purpose specialized facility that would assist in developing and enhancing the arts and crafts industries, which are an integral part of Pakistan’s rich cultural legacy. In addition to being a centre for skill improvement and capacity building, the Design District would also house a first of its kind Textile Museum.

The official spokesperson of the PFDC, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara also announced the official dates for the Council’s next fashion week, PFDC L’Oréal Paris Bridal Week 2015 which is scheduled to be held from 15th September to 17th September 2015.

Indeed the success of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week continued to prompt private sector associates to grow in their engagement of the platform to launch new marketing campaigns and promotional activities. To this end, the PFDC’s evolving partnership with Sunsilk grew exponentially this year whereby in addition to their title patronage; Sunsilk also took over the coveted PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week red carpet and the Green Room/Backstage, as sponsors. This extension of their support is indeed a manifestation of the brand’s belief in and commitment to the platform. Also in continuation of their support for the platform, Fed Ex – GSP Pakistan Gerry’s International returned to PSFW as the official logistics partner, offering the PFDC a special arrangement for international designer consignments.

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was styled by the creative teams at Nabila’s and NGENTS. Light design, set design, sound engineering, video packaging, choreography and show production from concept to construction was by HSY Events, front stage management by Maheen Kardar Ali, backstage management by Product 021, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara as the official spokesperson for the PFDC, logistics and operations by Eleventh Experience and photography by Faisal Farooqui and the team at Dragonfly, Hum TV/Hum Sitaray as the Official Media Partners, CityFM89 as the Official Radio Partners with all media management by Lotus Client Management & Public Relations.

High-Street Fashion Shows

The House of Arsalan Iqbal

The afternoon High-Street Fashion Shows on the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 were opened by leading fashion brand The House of Arsalan Iqbal, who showcased a collection titled ‘Devolution Chic’. Inspired by street art across the world by various artists, European high-street trends and technique of quilting, Arsalan Iqbal garnered personal portfolios of graffitists from myriad urban cityscapes such as London, New York, Tokyo, Barcelona and Cape Town, juxtaposed with some unique in-house created patterns including those of Pac-man, calligraphic flourishes and aqua and tangerine bands and circlets. Based in chiffon, the ensembles were molded into voluminous structured silhouettes including draped tunics, edgy jumpsuits and wide palazzos dovetailed with off-white and ecru charmeuse silk jackets created with a revolutionary quilting process. Along with menswear pieces, the collection also included in-house footwear and jewellery made in collaboration with pioneering Karachi-based street artist SANKI.

Erum Khan

Designer Erum Khan followed next and made her PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week debut with ‘The Untainted Shine’. The collection took its inspiration from the sparkle of twinkling stars, a walk on pearl dew in the morning and the enchanted glow which is produced when “a magic wand” is waved around the body, making it glow in a pearlescent white and exhibiting a jewel themed lustre on the body. With neat and straight structured cuts, Erum had used fabrics such as organza combined with silk, 3D flowers, patch work and antique katdanna in a collection which was based in a white colour palette. Trends highlighted in the collection were high waist skirts to button up pants and sheer long dresses. Acclaimed Pakistani musician Goher Mumtaz and his wife Anam Ahmed walked the ramp as the designer’s celebrity showstoppers.

Chinyere

Following Erum Khan, fashion brand Chinyere showcased its Spring/Summer 2015 High-Street collection ‘Mizaj-e-Shahana’ at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. An ode to the era of the Mughal royalty and their imperial aesthetic, the collection comprised of modern silhouettes and traditional embellishments with organza skirts paired with cropped tops, angarkha-peplum tops with embellished cigarette pants, sheer knee-length jackets paired with structured digital printed bustier-jumpsuits, diaphanous wrap-around boot-cuts and embellished boxy sleeves with soft A-line silhouettes. Chinyere also showcased ten menswear pieces comprising of waistcoats, jodhpurs, knee-length sherwanis paired with gossamer sheer kurtas. The colours used had been divided into a collection of distinctive Mughalesque pastels and jewel tones. The pastels included the classic marble ivory-on-ivory, the bold black, saffron, gold and ivory. The colour segments also included metallic gold and grey sections, with accents of bronze and black. The jewel tones included jade, emerald, ruby and sapphire.

Hassan Riaz

The concluding High-Street fashion show of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by Hassan Riaz who showcased his ‘Contained Shadows’ collection. Inspired by the diverse facets of the human soul that explore both the dark and light sides of human nature, taking into account yearnings, desires, and anxieties that make us distinctly human, Hassan had based the collection in summer twill, organza and summer denim in shades of blue and white with a gold accent to reflect upon his inspirations. ‘Contained Shadows’ made use of structured and drifting silhouettes, cage crinolines with corsets and bustiers with distinct trends featuring cropped tops, nautical accents, experiments with transparency and patchworks of metal mixed & matched with flowers.

Designer Showcases

Sana Safinaz

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015’s evening [rêt shows on the fourth and final day was opened by premier designer label Sana Safinaz. Sana Safinaz’s PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week collection was inspired by monochromatic structured looks with pops of color. The collection was based in luxe fabrics such as kattan, silks, fine silk organza and dutches satin in a colour palette majorly based in black and white with strong vibrant pop infusions.
Key trends being highlighted were the oversized T, constructions-clean lines, simplicity of cuts and effective embellishments.

Republic by Omar Farooq

Following Sana Safinaz, acclaimed menswear brand Republic By Omar Farooqshowcased a collection titled ‘Que Sera, Sera!’ (whatever will be, will be!). Omar Farooq had used a variety of luxe fabrics such as suede, linen, chiffon, cotton, cotton silk and wool silk. A collection for all seasons, the ensembles built upon the label’s signature aesthetics while providing a new take on contemporary menswear. Acclaimed media personality Fawad Khan walked the ramp as the brand’s celebrity showstopper.

Syeda Amera

The third Prêt show of the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by designer Syeda Amera who made her ramp debut with ‘The World of Sea’. Inspired by love for the enchanting underwater, the collection was based in premium quality organza, jersey, nets and silks with delicate cuts and embellishments consisting of beads, sequins and feathers to reflect the collection’s aquatic theme. ‘The World of Sea’ featured a palette of aqua marine, scupa blue, powder pink, grey blue, tequila sunrise yellow, orange and lagoon green with trends that employed skirt layering, frills and ruffles and flared pants.

Huma & Amir Adnan

Following Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan showcased a joint collection for the first time at a fashion exhibition. Both Huma and Amir feel that as a couple they share their lives and draw synergies and their collection ‘Symphony’ was an epitome of how two people can revolve around the same concept in harmony, while maintaining their individual distinction. Showcasing both menswear and women’s wear at PSFW 2015, Huma and Amir had used a mix of fabrics, textures and embellishments with a complex collection of weaves, prints and embroideries in silk, linen, cotton and microfiber. The color palette included midnight blue, emerald green, wet earth, aubergine, ivory, old paper, turmeric, leaf and magenta. Key trends highlighted in the collection were long shirts, double layered shirts, printed vests and jackets, textured pants, colored shoes for men and layers of multi-textured fabrics, tighter silhouette, vests and jackets for women.

Sania Maskatiya

Designer Sania Maskatiya showcased the penultimate Luxury/Prêt collection of the evening at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. This S/S ’15, Sania Maskatiya took audiences on a fashion journey to ‘Paristan’ – a place of fairytale whimsy at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. With a colour palette ranging from the softest shades of daybreak to the deepest hues of nightfall, ‘Paristan’ was a collection of playful, dreamlike prêt ensembles. Featuring luxury fabrics like silk, organza, charmeuse and crepe, the pieces followed the brand’s signature silhouettes, both structured and fluid. Beads and sequins embellished varied hemlines and multiple layering, all set against captivating scenes of mirth and magic. Motifs ranged from the sublime to nonsensical; friendly mice and naughty elves, clocks and teapots, flowering fields and star-filled skies, princesses and ponies.

HSY

Day-4’s finale was presented by acclaimed couturier HSY who showcased a collection titled ‘INK’; a collection inspired by Asia and specifically HSY’s journeys to The Land of the Rising Sun. INK represented the essence of Langkawi, Indonesia, Nagasaki, and Yunnan with natural and indigenous yarns, hand-woven to perfection. The collection featured the traditional dyeing techniques of Shibori from Nagasaki, Batik from Indonesia, and Gara from Sierra Leone infused with mackintosh, saffron, aubergine, eggshell, rosette, indigo and ochre. Created with the scorching sub continental summer in mind, INK channelled versatile hemlines to suit a diversity of younger, older, working men, women and homemakers alike.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl
in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes
to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that
would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her
body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some
said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To
the men she was simply a *** machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not.
And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it
came time to make it with Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind enough, but Cass
had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she made things of clay, and when
people were hurt either in the spirit or the flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them.
Her mind was simply different; her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous
of her because she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones; the so-called
handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They are riding on
their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all surface and no
insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she had a temper that some
call insanity. Her father had died of alcohol and her mother had run off leaving the
girls alone. The girls went to a relative who placed them in a convent. The convent had
been an unhappy place, more for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and
Cass fought most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek but the scar
rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I met her at the West End
Bar several nights after her release from the convent. Being youngest, she was the last of
the sisters to be released. She simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the
ugliest man in town and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that night, it was
simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was as simple as that. No
pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number of them. She didn't seem quite of
age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each
time she came back from the restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She
was not only the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She
came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through
her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me
and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled
the hatpin out and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't need
your dramatics here."
"Oh, *******, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the handkerchief to her
nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some beer and we sat there talking. It
was then that I got the perception of her as a person full of kindness and caring. She
gave herself away without knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of
wildness and incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went to bed and
after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one in bed. She
laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite wonderful, her long
black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her glistening... She displayed her
body calmly, as a good thing. She got under the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run over her body,
through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began to stroke slowly, wanting to
make it last. Her eyes looked directly into mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her back to the bar but
she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I slept until 2 p.m. then got up and
read the paper. I was in the bathtub when she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elephant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were different but she
seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then we'd make love. One or two nights
she phoned and I had to bail her out of jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of *******," she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see
beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never forgotten Cass, but
we'd had some type of argument and I felt like moving anyhow, and when I got back i
figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when
she walked in and sat down next to me.
"Well, *******, I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked dress. I had
never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in, were 2 pins with glass
heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins, but the pins were driven down into
her face.
"******* you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten bucks. But
you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't stay. You
don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like you you know it's for
something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a fascinating
face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a beautiful
woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place and I opened a bottle of
wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came easy. She talked a while and I would
listen and then i would talk. Our conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed
to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh-
only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we kissed and
moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go to bed. It was then that
Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it- the ugly jagged scar across her throat.
It was large and thick.
"******* you, woman," I said from the bed, "******* you, what have you
done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more? Am I still
beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and laughed, "Some
men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I keep the ten. It's very
funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, *****, I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears. The long black
hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made slow and somber and
wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making breakfast. She seemed quite calm and
happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over
and shook me,
"Up, *******! Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come enjoy the
feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer so things were
splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns above the sand. Others sat on
stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old
ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left
behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all,
there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say
much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and
drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an
hour. It was somehow better than *******. There was flowing together without tension.
When we awakened we drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested
to Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she slowly
said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and walked out. I
found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest of the week went to
working. I was too tired to get about much but that Friday night I did get to the West End
Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender
said to me, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the doorway at
any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters, the most
beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept thinking, I should have
insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that "no." Everything about her
had indicated that she had cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too
unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up
and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town
was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and
persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "******* YOU, YOU *******
,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was nothing I could do.
Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you
Sarah Ann Brown Sep 2012
Your hand brushed against mine, heat slithered up my thigh,
A python of mystery and allure, temptations offering more.
I tried to avoid your eyes, to avoid facing all those lies,
But I wanted us to burn, deep into the sheets, igniting skin,
Skin on fire, liar liar, pants on fire.

I wanted nothing more, than to send you up in flames
Smoke dancing around your lungs, tightening your chest
The way I couldn't breathe, when you played such cruel games.
I longed for your eyes to sting, in a way you couldn't rest
Eyes on fire, liar liar, pants on fire.

And when we come up for air, with sweat upon our brows,
But not enough to put these flames out,
I hope you inhale the way you made me feel
And I'll watch it lick you, the way I didn't any more,
Into the sorriest ashes, smouldering on the floor,
Skin on fire, liar liar, pants on fire.
Please master can I touch your cheeck
please master can I kneel at  your feet
please master can I loosen your blue pants
please master can I gaze at your golden haired belly
please master can I have your thighs bare to my eyes
please master can I take off my clothes below your chair
please master can I can I kiss your ankles and soul
please master can I touch lips to your hard muscle hairless thigh
please master can I lay my ear pressed to your stomach
please master can I wrap my arms around your white ***
please master can I lick your groin gurled with blond soft fur
please master can I touch my tongue to your rosy *******
please master may I pass my face to your *****,
please master order me down on the floor,
please master tell me to lick your thick shaft
please master put your rough hands on my bald hairy skull
please master press my mouth to your *****-heart
please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed
till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base
till I swallow and taste your delicate flesh-hot ***** barrel veined Please
Mater push my shoulders away and stare in my eyes, & make me bend over
        the table
please master grab my thighs and lift my *** to your waist
please master your hand's rough stroke on my neck your palm down to my
        backside
please master push me, my feet on chairs, till my hole feels the breath of
        your spit and your thumb stroke
please master make my say Please Master **** me now Please
Master grease my ***** and hairmouth with sweet vaselines
please master stroke your shaft with white creams
please master touch your **** head to my wrinkled self-hole
please master push it in gently, your elbows enwrapped round my breast
your arms passing down to my belly, my ***** you touch w/ your fingers
please master shove it in me a little, a little, a little,
please master sink your droor thing down my behind
& please master make me wiggle my rear to eat up the ***** trunk
till my asshalfs cuddle your thighs, my back bent over,
till I'm alone sticking out, your sword stuck throbbing in me
please master pull out and slowly roll onto the bottom
please master lunge it again, and withdraw the tip
please please master **** me again with your self, please **** me Please
Master drive down till it hurts me the softness the
Softness please master make love to my ***, give body to center, & **** me
        for good like a girl,
tenderly clasp me please master I take me to thee,
& drive in my belly your selfsame sweet heat-rood
you fingered in solitude Denver or Brooklyn or ****** in a maiden in Paris
        carlots
please master drive me thy vehicle, body of love drops, sweat ****
body of tenderness, Give me your dogh **** faster
please master make me go moan on the table
Go moan O please master do **** me like that
in your rhythm thrill-plunge & pull-back-bounce & push down
till I loosen my ******* a dog on the table yelping with terror delight to be
        loved
Please master call me a dog, an *** beast, a wet *******,
& **** me more violent, my eyes hid with your palms round my skull
& plunge down in a brutal hard lash thru soft drip-fish
& throb thru five seconds to spurt out your ***** heat
over & over, bamming it in while I cry out your name I do love you
please Master.

                                        May 1968
David Nelson Oct 2013
Gold Digger

now I'm not saying she's a gold digger
but her hands are in my pants pants pants
and I'm thinking as far as I can figure
she's not asking me to dance dance dance

cause the only tune I can hear playing
is the one that's in my head head head
and she's not skinny but she keeps saying
honey I need some bread bread bread

only last week she was begging me
she's needing cash for her sister sister sister
in my pocket once again you see
surprised her hand isn't one blister blister blister

I tell her go away you fool
you're not coning me this time time time
then she cries saying I'm not cool
the way you treat me is a crime crime crime

that's a lie and you know it honey
I give you everything you need need need
but all you seem to want is my money
I'm not a turnip and I bleed bleed bleed

so I'm not saying she's a gold digger
but her hands are always in my pants pants pants
and I'm thinking as far as I can figure
she's still not asking me to dance dance dance

Gomer LePoet....
maledimiele Sep 2016
I’ve got those pants which used to hug my legs very tightly, some time ago
They were warm and comfortable and they’d snuggle up to each other

But today exact these same pants refused to recognize my legs
They started to let go of them

They observe them now, from a distance, and give them a strange look
They’re scared to touch my legs

They’re scared of those cold and sharp bones
Scared of the blue skin and of my fine hair on them

Bones cold and sharp, which used to be my legs, have become crutches
But they work
Bones, cold and sharp, which might snap in half with every movement
But still they’re whole

And like ghosts, invisible, I walk with those crutches through the hallway
Cross the streets of my hometown
And go for a run every now and then
I get past windows that show no reflection
Past people who look at me in disgust

And when I’m home, the pants slip off by themselves
So that I stand here, naked and barefoot and exposed without any cloth
Only to lift those cold and sharp bones one more time
To make a step forward
Onto a scale which will measure my self-worth in kilograms and make my bony knees wobbly again
Because suddenly, the pants fit again, suffocating my legs with their tightness.
Mike Hauser Apr 2018
You're passing by the window
Of a fancy clothing store
Eyes popping in surprise
As your jaw drops to the floor
All you've ever dreamed of
All of this and more
More than enough can't believe your luck
As you hit the revolving doors

You've found a pair of Fancy Pants!

You do a happy dance
Cause you know this is your chance
To fulfill the dreams you've dreamed of
As a gullible young  lad
You have the widest grin
You have ever imagined
As you slide one leg then the other
Stop the presses this is it

Hello Mr. Fancy Pants!

These being the fanciest pants
Anyone has ever seen
People stop and stare
With eyes that can't believe
Flashing pink and blue and yellow
Orange, red, and green
Not skipping a single solitary beat
Strolling confidently down the street

Look out world it's Mr. Fancy Pants!

Some people have minor dreams
Of being kings or queens
Others wish their names
To go down in history
Struggle all their lives
To perform some awesome feat
But as for you
You're just happy

Being Mr. Fancy Pants!
Why must Mens' pants and Womens' pants be separate categories?
Why can't pants be unisex?
What the **** is this obsession with gender roles?

I can understand cuts of fabric being different measurements due to ****** dimorphism, but still, this is ridiculous.

Women get the best fabric patterns, the best stylism and the widest selection.
As a male who digs on style, I find this sexist.
L Mar 2014
those pants are too tight,
those pants are too big,
those pants don't fit you right,
why don't you try leggings?
phantasmalphantasmalphantasmalphantasmalphantasmalphantasmalphant­asmal
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                                  Asphalt Man
                                  Phantasm La
                                  Shaman Plat
                                  Asthma Plan
****** Hast
****** Hats
****** Shat
Napalms Hat
Plasma Than
Sampan Halt
Sampan Lath
                                                            ­        Manta Plash
                                                           ­         A Plasma Nth
                                                             ­       A Ham Plants
                                                          ­          A Hams Plant
A Mash Plant
A Sham Plant
A Maths Plan
A Math Plans
A Than Palms
A Than Lamps
A Than Psalm
Aha Plant Ms
Alpha Tan Ms
Alpha Ant Ms
Lama Pas Nth
Lama Asp Nth
Lama Spa Nth
Lama Sap Nth
Lamas Pa Nth
**** Path Ms
**** Phat Ms
Natal Hap Ms
Alas Amp Nth
Alas Map Nth
Ha Lam Pants
Ha Palm Tans
Ha Palm Ants
Ha Lamp Tans
Ha Lamp Ants
Ha Palms Tan
Ha Palms Ant
Ha Lamps Tan
Ha Lamps Ant
Ha Psalm Tan
Ha Psalm Ant
Ha Lams Pant
Ha Alms Pant
Ha Slam Pant
Ha Malts Nap
Ha Malts Pan
Ha Malt Pans
Ha Malt Snap
Ha Malt Naps
Ha Malt Span
Ha Plan Tams
Ha Plan Mast
Ha Plan Mats
Ha Plans Tam
Ha Plans Mat
                               Ha Plants Ma
Ha Plants Am
Ha Plant Sam
Ha Plant Mas
                               Ha Slant Amp
Ha Slant Map
Ha Splat Man
Ha Plats Man
                               Ha Plat Mans
Ah Lam Pants
Ah Palm Tans
Ah Palm Ants
Ah Lamp Tans
Ah Lamp Ants
Ah Palms Tan
Ah Palms Ant
Ah Lamps Tan
Ah Lamps Ant
Ah Psalm Tan
Ah Psalm Ant
Ah Lams Pant
Ah Alms Pant
Ah Slam Pant
Ah Malts Nap
Ah Malts Pan
Ah Malt Pans
Ah Malt Snap
Ah Malt Naps
Ah Malt Span
Ah Plan Tams
Ah Plan Mast
  Ah Plan Mats
   Ah Plans Tam
    Ah Plans Mat
     Ah Plants Ma
      Ah Plants Am
       Ah Plant Sam
        Ah Plant Mas
         Ah Slant Amp
          Ah Slant Map
           Ah Splat Man
            Ah Plats Man
             Ah Plat Mans
              Plash Ma Tan
Plash Ma Ant
Plash Am Tan
Plash Am Ant
Plash Man At
Plash Tam An
Plash Mat An
Lash Ma Pant
Lash Am Pant
Lash Man Tap
Lash Man Apt
Lash Man Pat
Lash Amp Tan
Lash Amp Ant
Lash Map Tan
Lash Map Ant
Lash Tamp An
Lash Tam Nap
Lash Tam Pan
Lash Mat Nap
Lash Mat Pan
Laths Ma Nap
Laths Ma Pan
Laths Am Nap
Laths Am Pan
Laths Man Pa
Laths Amp An
Laths Map An
Halts Ma Nap
Halts Ma Pan
Halts Am Nap
Halts Am Pan
Halts Man Pa
Halts Amp An
Halts Map An
Shalt Ma Nap
Shalt Ma Pan
Shalt Am Nap
Shalt Am Pan
Shalt Man Pa
Shalt Amp An
Shalt Map An
Halt Ma Pans
Halt Ma Snap
Halt Ma Naps
Halt Ma Span
Halt Am Pans
Halt Am Snap
Halt Am Naps
Halt Am Span
Halt Man Pas
Halt Man Asp
Halt Man Spa
Halt Man Sap
Halt Mans Pa
Halt Amp San
Halt Map San
Halt Maps An
Halt Amps An
Halt Sam Nap
Halt Sam Pan
Halt Mas Nap
Halt Mas Pan
Lath Ma Pans
Lath Ma Snap
Lath Ma Naps
Lath Ma Span
Lath Am Pans
Lath Am Snap
Lath Am Naps
Lath Am Span
Lath Man Pas
Lath Man Asp
Lath Man Spa
Lath Man Sap
Lath Mans Pa
Lath Amp San
Lath Map San
Lath Maps An
Lath Amps An
Lath Sam Nap
Lath Sam Pan
Lath Mas Nap
Lath Mas Pan
Ham La Pants
Ham Plan Sat
Ham Plans At
Ham Plant As
Ham Slant Pa
Ham Alp Tans
Ham Alp Ants
Ham Lap Tans
Ham Lap Ants
Ham Pal Tans
Ham Pal Ants
Ham Laps Tan
Ham Laps Ant
Ham Pals Tan
Ham Pals Ant
Ham Alps Tan
Ham Alps Ant
Ham Slap Tan
Ham Slap Ant
Ham Splat An
Ham Plats An
Ham Plat San
Ham Las Pant
Ham Slat Nap
Ham Slat Pan
Ham Salt Nap
Ham Salt Pan
Ham Last Nap
Ham Last Pan
Hams La Pant
Hams Plan At
Hams Alp Tan
Hams Alp Ant
Hams Lap Tan
Hams Lap Ant
Hams Pal Tan
Hams Pal Ant
Hams Plat An
Mash La Pant
Mash Plan At
Mash Alp Tan
Mash Alp Ant
Mash Lap Tan
Mash Lap Ant
Mash Pal Tan
Mash Pal Ant
Mash Plat An
Sham La Pant
Sham Plan At
Sham Alp Tan
Sham Alp Ant
Sham Lap Tan
Sham Lap Ant
Sham Pal Tan
Sham Pal Ant
Sham Plat An
Maths La Nap
Maths La Pan
Maths Alp An
Maths Lap An
Maths Pal An
Math La Pans
Math La Snap
Math La Naps
Math La Span
Math Plan As
Math Alp San
Math Lap San
Math Pal San
Math Laps An
Math Pals An
Math Alps An
Math Slap An
Math Las Nap
Math Las Pan
Than La Maps
Than La Amps
Than Lam Pas
Than Lam Asp
Than Lam Spa
Than Lam Sap
Than Palm As
Than Lamp As
Than Lams Pa
Than Alms Pa
Than Slam Pa
Than Alp Sam
Than Alp Mas
Than Lap Sam
Than Lap Mas
Than Pal Sam
Than Pal Mas
Than Laps Ma
Than Laps Am
Than Pals Ma
Than Pals Am
Than Alps Ma
Than Alps Am
Than Slap Ma
Than Slap Am
Than Las Amp
Than Las Map
Hap Lam Tans
Hap Lam Ants
Hap Lams Tan
Hap Lams Ant
Hap Alms Tan
Hap Alms Ant
Hap Slam Tan
Hap Slam Ant
Hap Malts An
Hap Malt San
Hap Slant Ma
Hap Slant Am
Hap Slat Man
Hap Salt Man
Hap Last Man
Hasp Lam Tan
Hasp Lam Ant
Hasp Malt An
Haps Lam Tan
Haps Lam Ant
Haps Malt An
Paths La Man
Paths Lam An
Staph La Man
Staph Lam An
Path La Mans
Path Lam San
Path Lams An
Path Alms An
Path Slam An
Path Las Man
Phat La Mans
Phat Lam San
Phat Lams An
Phat Alms An
Phat Slam An
Phat Las Man
Has Lam Pant
Has Palm Tan
Has Palm Ant
Has Lamp Tan
Has Lamp Ant
Has Malt Nap
Has Malt Pan
Has Plan Tam
Has Plan Mat
Has Plant Ma
Has Plant Am
Has Plat Man
Ash Lam Pant
Ash Palm Tan
Ash Palm Ant
Ash Lamp Tan
Ash Lamp Ant
Ash Malt Nap
Ash Malt Pan
Ash Plan Tam
Ash Plan Mat
Ash Plant Ma
Ash Plant Am
Ash Plat Man
Hast Lam Nap
Hast Lam Pan
Hast Palm An
Hast Lamp An
Hast Plan Ma
Hast Plan Am
Hast Alp Man
Hast Lap Man
Hast Pal Man
Hats Lam Nap
Hats Lam Pan
Hats Palm An
Hats Lamp An
Hats Plan Ma
Hats Plan Am
Hats Alp Man
Hats Lap Man
Hats Pal Man
Shat Lam Nap
Shat Lam Pan
Shat Palm An
Shat Lamp An
Shat Plan Ma
Shat Plan Am
Shat Alp Man
Shat Lap Man
Shat Pal Man
Hat Lam Pans
Hat Lam Snap
Hat Lam Naps
Hat Lam Span
Hat Palm San
Hat Lamp San
Hat Palms An
Hat Lamps An
Hat Psalm An
Hat Lams Nap
Hat Lams Pan
Hat Alms Nap
Hat Alms Pan
Hat Slam Nap
Hat Slam Pan
Hat Plan Sam
Hat Plan Mas
Hat Plans Ma
Hat Plans Am
Hat Alp Mans
Hat Lap Mans
Hat Pal Mans
Hat Laps Man
Hat Pals Man
Hat Alps Man
Hat Slap Man
A Ha Plant Ms
A Ah Plant Ms
A Halt Nap Ms
A Halt Pan Ms
A Lath Nap Ms
A Lath Pan Ms
A Than Alp Ms
A Than Lap Ms
A Than Pal Ms
A Hat Plan Ms
A La Maps Nth
A La Amps Nth
A Lam Pas Nth
A Lam Asp Nth
A Lam Spa Nth
A Lam Sap Nth
A Palm As Nth
A Lamp As Nth
A Lams Pa Nth
A Alms Pa Nth
A Slam Pa Nth
A Alp Sam Nth
A Alp Mas Nth
A Lap Sam Nth
A Lap Mas Nth
A Pal Sam Nth
A Pal Mas Nth
A Laps Ma Nth
A Laps Am Nth
A Pals Ma Nth
A Pals Am Nth
A Alps Ma Nth
A Alps Am Nth
A Slap Ma Nth
A Slap Am Nth
A Las Amp Nth
A Las Map Nth
Ha La Pant Ms
Ha Plan At Ms
Ha Alp Tan Ms
Ha Alp Ant Ms
Ha Lap Tan Ms
Ha Lap Ant Ms
Ha Pal Tan Ms
Ha Pal Ant Ms
Ha Plat An Ms
Ah La Pant Ms
Ah Plan At Ms
Ah Alp Tan Ms
Ah Alp Ant Ms
Ah Lap Tan Ms
Ah Lap Ant Ms
Ah Pal Tan Ms
Ah Pal Ant Ms
Ah Plat An Ms
Halt An Pa Ms
Lath An Pa Ms
Than La Pa Ms
Hap La Tan Ms
Hap La Ant Ms
Path La An Ms
Phat La An Ms
Hat La Nap Ms
Hat La Pan Ms
Hat Alp An Ms
Hat Lap An Ms
Hat Pal An Ms
La Ma Pas Nth
La Ma Asp Nth
La Ma Spa Nth
La Ma Sap Nth
La Am Pas Nth
La Am Asp Nth
La Am Spa Nth
La Am Sap Nth
La Amp As Nth
La Map As Nth
La Sam Pa Nth
La Mas Pa Nth
Lam Pa As Nth
Alp Ma As Nth
Alp Am As Nth
Lap Ma As Nth
Lap Am As Nth
Pal Ma As Nth
Pal Am As Nth
Las Ma Pa Nth
Las Am Pa Nth
A La Pa Nth Ms
Archer Apr 12
I push you up against the wall and you hit the back of your head a little harder than expected. You can feel the want in my forcefulness. My hands run up and down your body and arms. They find your hands and our fingers intertwine. I pull your hands behind your back and yank you into me. I lean in and you feel my warm breath on your neck before my lips and tongue. I let go of one of your hands and put mine on the back of your neck as I clumsily pull your mouth against mine. I pull your other arm up above your head with you still pressed against the wall. One hand presses against the middle of your chest so I can feel your heartbeat, strong and hard. Our mouths and tongues exploring each others. I pull up your shirt and you raise your arms and take it the rest of the way off. I quickly pull mine off as well. My arms wrap around you. One of my hands finds its way up to your face/cheek and cradles it. I feel your warm body pressed against mine and its making me hard. Our kissing has slowed but become more passionate. The small breaks from kissing I run my thumb across your lips and tell you I want you. I look you in the eyes as I say it. I spin us around so I'm against the wall now and grab you by the waist of your pants fumbling to find the buttons. With a few of them undone you pull me toward the bed directly behind you. When you back into the bed you sit down with a small squeal and start to undo my pants. Your mouth finds my stomach and your tongue makes circles around it as you play with the buttons on my jeans. You can feel my ****, hard inside my pants. You hear me exhale and let out a low moan. You look up and before you can go any further I get down on my knees while smiling at you. I push you on your back and my hands go to your waist sides and start to pull off your pants one side at a time. I kiss your tummy and you feel my lips against your soft skin. Your pants now down below your knees. I pull them all the way off along with your socks. Neither of us wore underwear. You on the bed, on your back. Knees bent with feet on the floor. Nothing but your bra. The air is cool against your warm skin. Me kneeling in between your legs. No shirt, pants unbuttoned but still on. You feel me reach for your legs and I lower my head to your warmth. You are extremely wet already. You feel my mouth making its way down past your belly button. You quiver slightly. I throw your legs over my shoulders. You feel my cheeks against the inside of your thighs. You know whats coming. I can hear your breathing quicken and become more shallow. You finally feel my lips kiss your wet *****. My hands pull you down the bed into my tongue. You tilt your head back and close your eyes. I am licking you up and down slowly. Wide, broad strokes. I can taste you. Smell you. Its driving me on. You hear a muffled moan come from down there as I slide my tongue inside you for the first time. I lightly **** on you in between licking. You start to lose your train of thought. Your back slightly arches. You feel my hand slide down and under your leg. I stop to put my two middle fingers in my mouth all the way to the knuckle and cover them in both our juices. I slide them into you with the fingerprints facing the ceiling and go back to working you with my lips, tongue and hand. Every lick and every press of my fingers invites your hips to roll with me. We find a slow rhythm. Together, making you wetter and wetter. I keep my fingers inside you and softly bite the inside of your thigh. Then I lick all the way from the gentile bite mark back to my fingers still inside you. I tell you "I want you to *** for me." I tell you "I want to taste you." "I want you to *** on my mouth." You answer with a small whimper "umhm". Your hips are moving faster. Grinding harder. My hands are being rougher. My mouth pressing harder against you. I **** on your **** and play with it using my tongue. Squeeze it in between my soft lips. Your juices are rolling out of you, out of my mouth down between you making the blankets wet. You can hear another muffled request for you to *** for me from in between your legs but I wont stop licking you. You feel close to ****** and reach down to pull my hair. You pull my head into your sopping wet *****. I can feel your body clench up. You tell me you are going to ***. You tell me to keep going. Keep licking. Keep ******* you with my hand. I'm moaning in a low voice and you can feel the vibrations of it resonate through out your entire body.
(Female descriptive)
I slow the pace of my movements to give you some time to recover. You know I want more. The light in the room suddenly looks brighter and you shut your eyes. You can feel me slowly kissing your tummy, moving upwards. My hands reach behind your back and unclasp your bra. You throw it aside and run your fingers through my hair. I take your breast in my mouth. As much as I can fit. I lick under it and around your *******. Playfully biting. My hands push them up and you can feel me play with them as my mouth completely covers the other one in your *** and my saliva. I move up in between your legs, still slightly shaking from your ****** a few minutes ago. Your hands touch my face, brush my messy hair back away from my forehead. You look into my eyes. You see lust. You see me as you have always seen me in your head. The hazel eyes, dashing almost violently, looking around you. Wanting to take you all in. Making mental notes of you. You close your eyes again and pull my mouth to yours. You kiss me deeply with a passion shared only between our hearts and imaginations. Your hands reach down and start to pull off my pants. I help and within twenty seconds they are on the floor beside yours. You feel all of me now. You feel the weight of me on top of you. You feel my breath on your neck and face as we kiss. You feel my lips, soft and swollen, pressed against yours. I **** on your bottom lip from time to time and its making it swell. You feel my arms beside you holding me up so I don't put all my weight on you. Your hands reach around and press against my back. You want me closer to you. You feel my chest and stomach against yours. Your legs are spread apart inviting me inside you. You feel my hard ****, the shaft sliding against your ****. Spreading apart your ***** lips. I can feel your wetness. It's soaking the blankets and sheets under but neither of us care. You can feel me pressing my hips hard against you. You know what I want. I want to be inside you. My mouth finds your ear and I whisper that to you as I lick it. You smile with joy. We have both been waiting for this for so long. You have already imagined what it would be like. We both have. You reach down and grab a hold of my long, hard ****. You stroke it up and down. You like the gurth of it. You feel my want as you tease it. You put the head against your ***** lips and wait for me to push it inside of you. I slowly ease it in. Only an inch or so before pulling it back out. You knew I was playful but this is torture. You grab onto it again and pull me into you as far as I'll allow. Again only an inch or so. You open your eyes. You make a moaning sound. Almost a whine. You want me inside of you now. You slide down a bit to better position yourself as to pull my **** inside you. Your legs wrap around me. You smile as you put the head of my **** inside you again and pull me inside you with your legs. I don't resist this time and let you have all of me. Deep inside you. You can feel me in your tummy. You didn't expect me to allow you to have it and you pulled me a little harder than you'd have liked. But the slight un-comfort for a second only makes you more aware of whats happening now. My mouth finds yours and my eyes are closed as I slowly draw my hard **** all the way out of your dripping *****, until it almost falls out again but right before that happens I slowly slide it all the way back in. And leave it there. Your legs while wrapped around me close slightly as to tell me not too deep. I oblige. You feel my pelvis with every ****** rub just above your ****. You feel my hands, both cradling your head, both full of your hair. I pull your head back slightly and expose your neck. I bite it. It hurts a little. You let out a yelp. I look at you to make sure you want more and your eyes tell me to keep going. My one hand fits around your neck from the front but doesn't apply any pressure. My thrusting quickens. I am not pulling out as far now. You let go of me with your legs and let them relax, spread open on the bed. You want me to have you. Take you. Your body loosens up a little and your bent legs open more for me. You want me to tighten my hand around your neck. Not hard. But lightly. You want to feel like I can dominate you. You want to feel like I'm taking you. I am telling you things as we make love like this. "I want you. I need you". I ask you if you like me inside you and you nod while making a quiet noise. I tell you I want you from behind.
I pull out and help you to roll over and get on your knees. I stand up on the floor right beside the bed. I put my hands on your hips and pull you toward me. You make your way over backing into me on all fours but I grab your hair and tug on it as to get you off your hands. I reach around and press my hand on your chest so you're upright on your knees. You back is arched slightly. You want me inside you again. I pull your hands behind your back, bent at the elbows so they are just above the small arch. I hold them there with one hand and again reach my other hand around and put it on your throat. You can feel me pressed against your back with my **** sliding in between your *** cheeks. Everything below your waist is soaking wet. I slide in to you from behind. You let out a loud moan this time. I tell you not to move your hands from behind your back. I whisper it to you as I bite your ear from behind. You can feel me inside you, the tip of my **** hitting in just the right place inside your ***** with every ******. I reach around with the hand that was holding yours behind your back and find your ****. I can feel my **** slipping in and out and I start to rub your **** with every ******. I can feel your soft *** hit my pelvis as I push into you. My other hand still on your throat is still holding you upright so your only on your knees. I can tell your body is getting fatigued and you want to lean forward but I still hold you up. My hand moves from your throat and claps a hand full of hair and I pull it back. You have no choice but to tilt your head back. I run my tongue all over your neck and around your collar bone. I love the way you taste and tell you so. I let go of your hair and wrap my arm around your neck this time. You disregard what I said about moving your arms from behind your back and both of them hold on to my fore arm that is against your neck. Im ******* you faster now. The sound of our bodies hitting is loud and wet sounding. You are moaning more and more. Louder and louder. I tell you to say "I want you to **** me" and you do. It drives me crazy to hear you say it and I start to slow my rhythm but make it harder. I let go of you and push you forward. Your face hits the bed and you turn on your cheek. I grab your hips and ****** hard, deep inside you. I reach down and spread your legs slightly before holding your hips again to pull you into my ****. I tell you I want you to *** again for me. I tell you to use your hand. You reach down and start to rub your **** as you feel my hard **** bounding in and out of your soaking wet *****. I keep telling you "I want you to *** for me" and its getting you closer and closer. We are both sweating and I can see it glistening on your back and some of your hair is sticking to the back of your neck. We are both breathing heavily. I tell you to tell me when you are going to *** and you half moan and half speak yes. I reach around as I ******* hard from behind and put my hand over top of yours and mirror every movement of your fingers. I can feel you getting closer and closer to ****** again. You tell me "Just like that" and I don't change anything about the way I'm ******* you. Your explosion is imminent
(Female Descriptive)
I am sweating now and am pleased with you coming on my **** while it was inside you. I tell you I want to *** inside you. I lay on my back and pull you on top of me. Straddling me. you lean over and we kiss more passionately than ever. My arms hugging you. Wrapped around you. I tell you I want to *** inside you again and you nod and smile. You slowly work your way down my body with your mouth. kissing my neck first. Then my chest. Then stomach. You grab hold of my **** and hold it upright. You lick it up and down before placing it in your warm mouth. You hear me gasp quietly. You move up and down on it slowly with your mouth and you can feel it flexing every time you do. You rub the tip against your pouted lips. You can taste yourself on it. You tease me like this for a few minutes before I pull you back up to me so I can kiss you again while you straddle me. I reach down and slide my **** inside you. You are rocking your hips on it. You feel it inside you. I feel it inside you. I pull you close to me and you raise your *** up in the air slightly. Now you can feel me start to do some work. I am thrusting up. Up inside your hot *****. You don't know how much more you can take of this. I tell you "I love you" as I ******* from under your straddling legs. I reach up and hold your head with one hand on each cheek. I look you in the eyes. "I love you". We keep kissing but I'm making eye contact all the time. I tell you I'm going to ***. You sit up strait and start to rub your **** while you grind your hips on top of my with my **** deep inside you. I close my eyes. I reach up and touch your *******. I hold them in my hands. I can feel your hips rolling. It matches the waves of warmth building inside me. I tell you again "I'm going to ***" and you are almost at your ****** as I close my eyes and feel a warm wave wash over me. Everything flashes white for an instant and I pull you down to my mouth.
(Female Descriptive)
You hear me moan out. I bite your neck but don't let go this time. You feel my warm fluid shoot inside you. You feel my **** pulse, the muscles forcing my *** out, deep inside your *****. There is a lot. The spasms of your ***** from your ****** make mine so intense I don't think it will ever end. You feel my tense body slowly start to relax. My **** still inside you, you lay on me and rest your head. I put my hand on the back of your head and slowly stroke your hair. Its stuck to both of us. We are both completely soaked with *** and sweat and saliva. Both our eyes are wide when open but they want to shut. If only for a minute. You're resting on my chest. We can feel our heart beats. They are the closest they have ever been at this moment. Both our hearts mere inches away from each other. They almost feel like they are beating as one. "I love you" leaves my lungs one more time as I drift off half asleep and half in Nirvana.
some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be mony and ****** and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.
The Unspoken May 2014
I am just so near to losing my mind whenever I hear the statement "So, who wears the pants here?"
Wow!
It gets me speechless.
I got love for all the brothers out there, but what makes you think that what you wear on the outside really portrays who you are on the inside?
"No she doesn't tell me what to do!" is what you beat your chest on whenever you are in conversation with your "boys".
"No I can't carry the baby outside the grocery store, Instead I'll go park the car"...
"No I can't clean the dishes, what will she be doing?"...
"No I will not pick up her call now, am the one wearing pants, I do it at my time"...
"I can get home whatever time I want, after all she just a woman, am above her!!!!???"...

Honesty, its sad that to this day, this mentality holds.
Well, if I am talking 'bout you here, Let me give you  THE reality check!

You ain't No better. You need a woman.
She came out of your rib yes, but ain't you the one who asked for her in the 1st place?
Ain't she the reason why from 8th grade you have added 30 pounds? Otherwise wouldn't you malnutrition yourself with noodles and coffee night, after night?
Ain't she the reason why you get so cosy and warm after tens of ******* on a cold night?
For some, the car you drive, the very job you got, ain't she the one that worked out connections for you to get there?
Ain't she the reason why there is a baby somewhere that calls you "Daddy?" that you brag to the society about...makes you feel like a "MAN" ey? She had a choice of denying you the child, say its not yours...
But in your selfish Grown up ego you want to show the world "YOU ARE THE ONE WEARING PANTS????"

Would it hurt to show appreciation?
My point, that is what differentiates a man and a boy.

So next time, before you ask her "Who wears the pants?" Think twice.!

You know why, "SHE WEARS THE DRESS, SOMETHING, YOU, CAN NEVER DO!!!"

© The Unspoken
#sigh. If this gets to you the wrong way, u probably gotta change your ways. And for those who do or atleast try not to use this statement, KEEP IT UP!
Coyote Dec 2011
We could not go out
Man were we *******
So we sat in the house
and ate all the food
We ate all the popcorn,
the peanuts and candy
And washed it all down
with whatever was handy

A knock on the door made
us pause from our feast
Then the door opened wide
and in walked the Priest
Soaked to the bone
from his head to his
toes
He said "someone help
me get out of these clothes".

Then the Priest looked
around, and then what
did he see?
He picked
out two somebody's
Billy and me

He took off his collar
and undid his pants
and with a wink and
a smile he started to
dance
He asked us to help
him remove all the
rest
And said we could all
play a game called
'undressed'
"A very fun game
I will show it to you
And I promise that no
one will mind if I do"

But our fish said
"Oh no, make that
Priest go away!
Tell that Priest
without pants
you do NOT
want to play!
He SHOULD NOT be
here promising
fun!
He SHOULD NOT be
here with his trousers
undone!"

"But I came here
to play" said the
half-naked Priest
"I know a few games
You should try them at least
These games are quite fun
I will show them to you
They involve sleeping
pills and a six pack or
two"

Then true to his word the
Priest cracked a beer
And invited us over with
a mischievous leer
“A sip of this stuff will
not cause any pain
Take a swig and I’ll
show you a new little
game"

"Put that down!” said our fish
“Make that Priest go away!
Tell that Priest without pants
you do NOT want to play!
He SHOULD NOT be here
promising fun!
He SHOULD NOT be here
with his trousers undone!"

But Billy and I were
a rebellious pair
And to be offered
beer was incredibly
rare
So we each grabbed
a cold one and in
one mighty swig
We downed 16 oz
like a couple of
pigs

And soon (very soon)
the room started to spin
And I vaguely remember
the Priest’s evil grin
And the sound of his
laughter as his shorts
hit the floor
And his clod hopping
footsteps as he locked
our front door

Then he took a few steps
towards Billy and me
and we shivered and shook
when he touched Billy's knee
Then all of a sudden,
or it seemed so at least
Billy threw up on the
***** old Priest
Yes up came the popcorn
the peanuts and beer
And covered the Priest
from his feet to his ear

Then without warning
and almost on cue
I started barfing
when Billy was through
The Priest gave a cry
and then lickity split
He ran from the room
(the ***** old ****)
He grabbed up his garments
and sped from our home
On his way out the door
he dropped his cell phone

So calmly and coolly
I called the newspaper
and then the police
to report the old *****
I said "you can't miss him
he turned left on Duke
He's completely naked
and covered in puke"
And within thirty minutes
the cops had their man
They booked him and
tossed him right into
the can

Then I turned to Billy
and gave him a smile
The Priest was in jail
and awaiting a trial
But Billy was pale
and didn’t look good
He seemed almost frozen
in the place where he stood
He had to sit down
and he looked pretty weak
Then he asked "when the hell
did our fish learn to speak?"
Shelley Jul 2014
I remember days when you would don your garden pants,
the periwinkle ones with sherbet-splattered blooms
of pink and orange dahlias.

They came to a halt just above your ankles,
skimming the tongues and velcro latches of your shoes--
size nine narrow.

And you would count for me as we held the spray over each plant,
four hands on the hose: yours wrinkled with tall veins,
mine monkey-bar calloused.

We waded through fern forests, pausing to make knee-shaped
divots in the mulch, while the pants dampened
with dew from morning grass.

Seasons later, your garden was traded for a vase
of carnations on a hospital nightstand,
and your sun for fluorescence.

And I returned to trace our route through the yard, alone,
counting as I sprayed the blossoms, wearing for you
your garden pants.
Olivia L Jun 2014
Pants are overrated.
Our ancestors didn't wear clothes,
While today we cover up
Everything that we can.

Pants are overrated.
Shielding us
From what we know exist.
Covering everything.

Pants are overrated.
But, if someone didn't wear them
There would be an uproar.
I wonder why?
Just feeling silly!
i know little of sponge bob,
yet i like the small pants.

we had the counting
yesterday, walking sticks,
ferrules, the umbrellas,
most were there, the staghorn,
missing.

i like a day of counting,
finding all things lost.

i washed the pants,
ironed,pants folded neatly,
they are taken home.

sbm.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
This is not, a time to loosen up
Or nine to five job to give up
Just saddle up the power is in you
Five ladies cafe to dine at five and
drove_* the meter is running
(The Canadian Cup) team versus the
     Taxi Cup
He swooned you in your
Five dreamy but half heart sugars
Come on Baby bloomers
Let's see some boom!!

In your hips men will be men taking
frequent flyer trips temptation 1 2345
We need fewer digs one love teo reasons
World  345  heart flags
We don't have to cross our hearts
Perhaps tattoo heart legs no more strikes
Jumping Jack flash
What a rope in this isn't the Pope

Somehow we all get broke
To court her like your the lasso
stars cosmos hearts like Lassie
Never a change of subject how it
remains in your heart how it hit hard
to react but changed to five cards
Digging too long  lucky 777 like heaven
Heart digs

1-where?
Oh! There

No, I am here
We are always  
In-between
numbers_ I only
have 5 minutes
No I phone have a heart
Oh! where is designed for me
Those five plates

Whats in between them
      *Him

We are opening Live- Five
Strong heart to give the caring
The useful heart is never so daring
My gate* Girls are nail digging
Hugging

Or losing add +

Flirty
*****
Our community
Heftier like Jupiter
Heart to build
the gravity
A big kiss hunch
of five roses

Your getting to bloom
but only have
5 extra movie parts
The front dress mermaid tail
Your heart delicate hands
opened up your emails
I think you hit the
Jackpot

Max to the million shot
No heart of gold
Only more leaders
Scrambling and digging
your fork
Mixing those egg beaters

Five men think they know
there women
like ten
commandments
Turn to five wrong
engagements
There it goes the lucky
five arguments

A plot beating
like a hot-shot
The French Baguette
Bread 9 to 5 firecracker
Five-carat baguette
wedding band in her safe
Heart digs to five hands
Heart neck guilty as a giraffe

The cafe house had only
5 cups left  they sold you out
Only Five Bed and breakfast
stayers
Do detailed with their Ladyfingers
But need more alone time
Be on time get sweet key lime
What is real-time so sublime

That rose- paper cut- origami
Sorcerer of five he was like the
cold cuts of big Sub Salami
Japanese sword samurai
What a Geronimo Oh! no
Jericho
This wasn't a hot potato

Or Gizmo No-Go
Getting a shot for Polio
The gusto songs to the heart play
Maestro the Cosmo's
The five stars to heart his
afterglow
Like a titanic ship but heroics

Five lunatics wedding horns ******
Five two timer Mario gamers
so demonic
DOMINO'S bed five students wed
We dug deeper get-up sleepy-head
Exposed cries location set
Network U- dig cups

Something lip curved
He misplaced my lips
What did he do in exchange
More stocks and hard stone rocks
Like frying pan egg
scrambled words

Crossed heart Rapper so believing
The Fox five sticking tacky glue
His CD Rose lying pants no clue
Painful pointed shoes need R&R
     Robin's *Responsibilities
       The Heart On Replay
The deeper you dig to restart

The healthy organically grown brain
Men on Pause I truly believe nature
takes its course
but another beat to go is that so?
And if so heart digs to five
Feel the good vibe in another tribe
Five times I had to wake you up
I am the love cure reminiscing

Giving me five reasons
Our beautiful change of
heart in season

Studying the fine art heart
Referencing
Never refusing thats life
five-step to strive nothing
Fancy

Robin shoutbox she getting
her point across
Either you're the worker or loner
The heart pleaser the boss
Your heart looks good
on your dress
Whether we win or deep mess
The good heart can change to
a bad start

Recharge your heart count to five
Venus- beauty moved on like a
pathologist digging over staying alive
The hearts what digs this is not the 9-5 workers we are talkers
and long settling in heart walkers come any join me we may actually be alive did I get a live one
the thought of death is an uneasy thought
in my case it's a ****** nightmare

on the 16th day of May, 1967, Mr Youngblood took his 6th grade class to the playground as he always did, every Tuesday after lunch. The kids spread out to their usual positions. Some played catch with Mr Youngblood. A few, like Roger and me went to the basketball net and several played on the monkey bars, both of which were part of the big asphalt square. Just opposite this area was the soccer field and then some good distance between that and the Middle School. Lots of open space for a bunch of suburban kids to have fun. The Sun was bright and the wind was light and the temperature was right around perfect. We had been playing for 10 minutes or so when the wind picked up and clouds seemed to move in out of nowhere. We all thought it must be a storm coming...and it was. A distant laugh froze everyone. At first no-one saw him, but then we all saw him at once. He was walking across the soccer field towards us, long deliberate strides with long thin legs that seemed to bend once slightly below where the knee should be and again slightly above, making each stride awkwardly horrifying. Where he came from is a mystery as there was nothing but open land behind him for several hundred yards. He was tall and lanky and as he approached us, I noticed that his face was contorted and discolored...a pale, almost painted white and he had jet black hair combed back, long and greasy. His lips were thin and black and his eyes bloodshot and almond shaped. He wore a black suit, a black shirt and candy apple red tie. He looked like a mosh-up of Curry's Pennywise and Ledger's Joker, only I would have traded for either one of those ******* right now over this guy, ten to one. He came to the edge of the concrete square. Johnny ****** his pants and Charlene fell from the monkey bars, landing awkwardly on her left side and causing a compound fracture, her radius protruding from her skin leaving her hand dangling like a dead fish. She did not scream either because she was scared it might draw his attention or she was going into shock...or maybe both. He took two more steps forward and then began laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest joke he'd ever been told. His teeth looked as if they'd been replaced with shark's teeth. I swear there were rows of them and his mouth stretched inhumanly wide. His laugh slowly winded down to a snarl, and he gave a long look to each one of us, as if he was burning the faces to memory. And then he spoke..."You children just go on having lots of fun! Well, except for you Johnny...didn't your Mom just rip you a new *** for ******* your pants at Grandma's? shame, shame!" And Johnny was off...tripping twice before he got his feet under him. "You run home and ...Ha Ha Ha...oh my...change your pants, you pathetic little ****!" Mr Youngblood picked up Charlene and started to carry her inside. By this time her pretty pink dress was soaked in blood. The freak addressed him. "Nice man...but you can't save them. In a few days they will all be mine." He laughed again and every kid ran for their lives back to the school. I was the only one who stayed. To this day I'm not sure why. He turned and walked towards me slowly. "What have we here? The little man isn't running with the others. Are you not afraid Billy boy? Afraid for your life?"...and he leaned in close...close enough that I smelled a foulness that cannot be described. "Because that is what I'm here for...your life!" "Who are you?", I asked... and with that his dark black and pointed eyebrows raised and he straightened up. "Who am I...Who am I? My, my the boy has a backbone. The nerve to question while others lose control of their bladders. Well, I'll tell you who I am, child. I am God's worst nightmare. I am every ***** little secret thought you've ever had. I am evil in all it's forms wrapped up in one little package and sent to collect the souls of the innocent. All of you here today will be mine tomorrow. Roger will fall down the stairs off of his front porch and break his neck. Charlene will die from infection due to that nasty little accident and Becky will be hit by the school bus Thursday morning. That will be most nasty! Almost a decapitation. I won't bore you with the rest, but they will all die. Hmmm...you know what Billy... I like you, so I'm thinking, perhaps...yes, I'm going to make a special offer to my new special friend. I won't take your soul until you die from natural causes. What do you think of that idea? At that moment, when your family is gathered round your bedside after suffering that...well, maybe you don't want to know the details... you will see a bright light...but you won't be going towards the light Billy...at that moment I will place my hand on your shoulder and that light will slowly fade into darkness and we will meet again, and you will become my apprentice. So, what do you think of that, Billy? Do you want to be my apprentice, or do I **** you now? Come, come...I haven't much time!" I tried to answer, but my mouth was as dry as cardboard and I could only manage a weak gasp. That laugh again and he turned and walked away in the same direction..."I'll take that as a yes. Remember, you are mine upon your death, Billy boy!" The wind died and the Sun appeared again.
By the end of the week, every child on the playground that day had died...exactly as he stated they would.

And now you know why, even in my darkest days, I never, ever contemplate suicide.
this story was prompted by a Joker bobblehead I found in a collectibles store that is creepy as hell - I think I will make it my annual Halloween post!
heather jackson Aug 2014
i'm going to put on the same pants you slid off of me
and melt inside a little.
getting ready for work never felt so ****.
Nicole Walsh May 2014
We come from the same gene pool,
but don't you dare tell me
that we can wear the same jeans,
because you couldn't hold them up.
You wouldn't be able to keep them in place,
to hoist up the weight of the world
that makes them so heavy.
Your size zero waist and thighs
couldn't handle the pressure,
couldn't handle the qualities
of life size pants.
Not 12 size pants.
Life size pants.
My whole life fits into the stretched out fabric,
the too tight button,
the zipper that struggles to crawl up its track.
These pants have seen days where I could slide in
and days where the squeeze was so tight
that I just gave up,
even when giving up shouldn't have been an option.
Holes have been torn,
rips have been stretched,
and yours have been fashioned to look that way.
Do not pretend that we could switch jeans
and be perfectly fine,
because you would be swimming,
and I would be missing.
Gods1son Oct 2018
Sneakers, loafers, sandals, chelsea,
stilettos, wedges, platform, scarpin
I think it's fine to categorize shoes 'cause they serve different purposes

Dress pants, jeans, corduroy pants,
leggings, chinos pants, sweat pants
I think it's fine to categorize pants 'cause they serve different purposes

Black, white, brown, fat, athletic, skinny,
rich, poor, smart, introvert, extrovert, gay, lesbian, straight, Christian, Muslim
I don't think it's fine to categorize humans because we are all ONE from the same SOURCE with the same PURPOSE!
Melody Mar 2011
So every morning my dad fixes coffee and I drink some.

I sit at my desk,

Catching up with everything that I missed over the night.

I pick up my coffee cup,

When it gets above my upper thigh,

I have no idea what I did...

But I spilled a few drops on my lucky Thumper pajama pants.

"Dang it..."

I take a sip..

Then set the cup back down

On the cup's way to my desk..

I spill some coffee on my right foot..

"Grrr..."

I set the coffee cup down a little harder...

And it goes over on my mouse-pad.

I glare at the cup..

This cup has always been nice to me,

I don't know why it isn't now.



So about five minutes later I pick the cup back up again

And once again once it is over my thigh,

Coffee spills over in the same spot.

I take a sip, set the cup down, and look at my pants..

"My Thumper pants are going to have a coffee stain on it."



Still aggravated with my coffee and my cup,

I pick it back up again...

While the cup is in my hand is take a different route to my mouth..

It's almost to my mouth when it drops some more coffee on my pants and pajama shirt...



So here I am in my school clothes,

With left over coffee in the cup..

Afraid to drink it.

I take a sip and I don't spill anything...

I have come to this conclusion:

The coffee and the cup hated my Thumper pants and my tank top.

That was my morning, this morning.
Azurel Jul 2018
You call me
She, Her, Daughter, Girl
Shhhhh...
You speak with a blind mouth,
Look at me, see me
She isn't me,
Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale.
I am not broken, I am free
But you hide behind a veil
Afraid to finally let go of...

Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress
You question each time I show you my truth,
"Are you trying to hide your femininity?"
No, my femininity is simply not my definition.
Spend a day in my skin, in my cage,
And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers,
Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase.
Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense?
You speak to me but your voice seems distant,
Bouncing off of me and echoing
Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see.
"I am right in front of you, you know"
But my words are only heard when they come from her lips.
Do you see me now?

Mother, Children, Wife, Woman
A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not,
Stomach swollen, hair to my waist
The glow of an expecting mother on my face.
Curves, not edges,
Pink, not blue.
Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place.
Do you see me now?


Pants swollen, hair to my brow,
Along my jaw,
Down my legs,
Sprouting from my toes.
Do you see me now?
Bulged, Buzzed, Boy
Blood on my sheets, not between my legs
Stained by the girl who lies in her place
Fresh coat of gel and cologne,
Swirls of shaving cream.
Bare chest, Burning skin
Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short,
Nervous fidgets with a tie,
tick tock,
"Pick me up at eight"
"Treat her right" "I will sir"
"Will you be my..."
"You're going to be a father!"
"You are the best daughter we could have asked for"
...."Son" I whispered.
But you didn't hear,
Please tell me
Do you see me now?
Any one who can relate to this but can’t say it, I hope I can be your voice.
1969 Hartford art school is magnet for exceedingly intelligent over-sensitive under-achievers alluring freaks congenital creeps and anyone who cannot cut it in straight world it is about loners dreamers stoners clowns cliques of posers competing to dress draw act most outrageous weird wonderful classrooms clash in diversity of needs some students get it right off while others require so much individual attention one girl constantly raises her hand calls for everything to be repeated explained creativity is treated as trouble and compliance to instruction rewarded most of faculty are of opinion kids are not capable of making original artwork teachers discourage students from dream of becoming well-known until they are older more experienced only practiced skilled artists are competent to create ‘real art’ defined by how much struggle or multiple meanings weave through the work Odysseus wants to make magic boxes without knowing or being informed of Joseph Cornell one teacher tells him you think you’re going to invent some new color the world has never seen? you’re just some rowdy brat from the midwest with a lot of crazy ideas and no evidence of authenticity another teacher warns you’re nothing more than a bricoleur! Odysseus questions what’s a bricoleur teacher informs a rogue handyman who haphazardly constructs from whatever is immediately available Odysseus questions what’s wrong with that? teacher answers it’s low-class folk junk  possessing no real intellectual value independently he reads Marshall McLuhan’s “The Medium Is The Message” and “The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci” he memorizes introductory remark of Leonardo’s “i must do like one who comes last to the fair and can find no other way of providing for himself than by taking all the things already seen by others and not taken by reason of their lesser value” Odysseus dreams of becoming accomplished important artist like Robert Rauschenberg Jasper Johns Andy Warhol he dreams of being in eye of hurricane New York art scene he works for university newspaper and is nicknamed crashkiss the newspaper editor is leader in student movement and folk singer who croons “45 caliber man, you’re so much more than our 22, but there’s so many more of us than you” Odysseus grows mustache wears flower printed pants vintage 1940’s leather jacket g.i. surplus clothes he makes many friends his gift for hooking up with girls is uncanny he is long haired drug-crazed hippie enjoying popularity previously unknown to him rock bands play at art openings everyone flirts dances gets ****** lots of activism on campus New York Times dubs university of Hartford “Berkeley of the east coast” holding up ******* in peace sign is subversive in 1969 symbol of rebellion youth solidarity gesture against war hawks rednecks corporate America acknowledgment of potential beyond materialistic self-righteous values of status quo sign of what could be in universe filled with incredible possibilities he moves in with  painting student one year advanced named Todd Whitman Todd has curly blond hair sturdy build wire rimmed glasses impish smile gemini superb draftsman amazing artist Todd emulates Francisco de Goya and Albrecht Durer Todd’s talent overshadows Odysseus’s Todd’s dad is accomplished professor at distinguished college in Massachusetts to celebrate Odysseus’s arrival Todd cooks all day preparing spaghetti dinner when Odysseus arrives home tripping on acid without appetite Todd is disappointed Odysseus runs down to corner store buys large bottle of wine returns to house Todd is eating spaghetti alone they get drunk together then pierce each other’s ears with needles ice wine cork pierced ears are outlaw style of bad *** bikers like Hell’s Angels Todd says you are a real original Odys and funny too Odysseus asks funny, how? Todd answers you are one crazy ******* drop acid whenever you want smoke **** then go to class this is fun tonight Odys getting drunk and piercing our ears Odysseus says yup i’m having a good time too Todd and Odysseus become best friends Odysseus turns Todd on to Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” and “Ariel” then they both read Ted Hughes “Crow” illustrated with Leonard Baskin prints Todd turns Odysseus on to German Expressionist painting art movement of garish colors emotionally violent imagery from 1905-1925 later infuriating Third ***** who deemed the work “degenerate” Odysseus dives into works of Max Beckmann Otto Dix Conrad Felixmulller Barthel Gilles George Grosz Erich Heckel Ernst Ludwig Kirchner Felix Nussbaum Karl *******Rottluff Carl Hofer August Macke Max Peckstein Elfriede Lohse-Wachtler Egon Shiele list goes on in 1969 most parents don’t have money to buy their children cars most kids living off campus either ride bikes or hitchhike to school then back home on weekends often without a penny in their pockets Odysseus and Todd randomly select a highway and hitch rides to Putney Vermont Brattleboro Boston Cape Cod New York City or D.C. in search of adventure there is always trouble to be found curious girls to assist in Georgetown Odysseus sleeps with skinny girl with webbed toes who believes he is Jesus he tries to dissuade her but she is convinced

Toby Mantis is visiting New York City artist at Hartford art school he looks like huskier handsomer version of Ringo Starr and women dig him he builds stretchers and stretches canvases for Warhol lives in huge loft in Soho on Broadway and Bleeker invites Odysseus to come down on weekends hang out Toby takes him to Max’s Kansas City Warhol’s Electric Circus they wander all night into morning there are printing companies longshoremen gays in Chelsea Italians in West Village hippies playing guitars protesting the war in Washington Square all kinds of hollering crazies passing out fliers pins in Union Square Toby is hard drinker Odysseus has trouble keeping up  he pukes his guts out number of times Odysseus is *** head not drinker he explores 42nd Street stumbles across strange exotic place named Peep Show World upstairs is large with many **** cubicles creepy dudes hanging around downstairs is astonishing there are many clusters of booths with live **** girls inside girls shout out hey boys come on now pick me come on boys there are hundreds of girls from all over the world in every conceivable size shape race he enters dark stall  puts fifty cents in coin box window screen lifts inside each cluster are 6 to 10 girls either parading or glued to a window for $1 he is allowed to caress kiss their ******* for $2 he is permitted to probe their ****** or *** for $10 girl reaches hand into darkened stall jerks him off tall slender British girl thrills him the most she says let me have another go at your dickey Odysseus spends all his money ******* 5 times departing he notices men from every walk of life passing through wall street stockbrokers executives rednecks mobsters frat boys tourists fat old bald guys smoking thick smelly cigars Toby Mantis has good-looking girlfriend named Lorraine with long brown hair Toby Lorraine and Odysseus sit around kitchen table Odysseus doodles with pencil on paper Toby spreads open Lorraine’s thighs exposing her ****** to Odysseus Lorraine blushes yet permits Toby to finger her Odysseus thinks she has the most beautiful ****** he has ever seen bulging pelvic bone brown distinctive bush symmetric lips Toby and Lorraine watch in amusement as Odysseus gazes intently Tony mischievously remarks you like looking at that ***** don’t you? Odysseus stares silently begins pencil drawing Lorraine’s ****** his eyes darting back and forth following day Lorraine seduces Odysseus while Toby is away walks out **** from shower she is few years older her body lean with high ******* she directs his hands mouth while she talks with someone on telephone it is strange yet quite exciting Odysseus is in awe of New York City every culture in the world intermingling democracy functioning in an uncontrollable managed breath millions of people in motion stories unraveling on every street 24 hour spectacle with no limits every conceivable variety of humanity ******* in same air Odysseus is bedazzled yet intimidated

Odysseus spends summer of 1970 at art colony in Cummington Massachusetts it is magical time extraordinary place many talented eccentric characters all kinds of happenings stage plays poetry readings community meals volleyball after dinner volleyball games are hilarious fun he lives alone in isolated studio amidst wild raspberries in woods shares toilet with field mouse no shower he reads Jerzy Kosinski’s “Painted Bird” then “Being There” then “Steps” attractive long haired girl named Pam visits community for weekend meets Odysseus they talk realize they were in first grade together at Harper amazing coincidence automatic ground for “we need to have *** because neither of us has seen each other since first grade” she inquires where do you sleep? Todd hitches up from Hartford to satisfy curiosity everyone sleeps around good-looking blue-eyed poet named Shannon Banks from South Boston tells Odysseus his ******* is not big enough for kind of ******* she wants but she will **** him off that’s fine with him 32 year old poet named Ellen Morrissey from Massachusetts reassures him ******* is fine Ellen is beginning to find her way out from suffocating marriage she has little daughter named Nina Ellen admires Odysseus’s free spirit sees both his possibilities and naïveté she realizes he has crippling family baggage he has no idea he is carrying thing about trauma is as it is occurring victim shrugs laughs to repel shock yet years later pain horror sink in turned-on with new ideas he returns to Hartford art school classes are fun yet confusing he strives to be best drawer most innovative competition sidetracks him Odysseus uses power drill to carve pumpkin on Halloween teachers warn him to stick to fundamentals too much creativity is suspect Todd and he are invited to holiday party Odysseus shows up with Ellen Morrissey driving in her father’s station wagon 2 exceptionally pretty girls flirt with him he is live wire they sneak upstairs he fingers both at same time while they laugh to each other one of the girls Laura invites him outside to do more he follows they walk through falling snow until they find hidden area near some trees Laura lies down lifts her skirt she spreads her legs dense ***** mound he is about to explore her there when Laura looks up sees figure with flashlight following their tracks in snow she warns it’s Bill my husband run for your life! Odysseus runs around long way back inside party grabs a beer pretending he has been there next to Ellen all night few minutes later he sees Laura and Bill return through front door Bill has dark mustache angry eyes Odysseus tells Ellen it is late maybe they should leave soon suddenly Bill walks up to him with beer in hand cracks bottle over his head glass and beer splatter Odysseus jumps up runs out to station wagon Ellen hurriedly follows snow coming down hard car is wedged among many guest vehicles he starts engine locks doors maneuvers vehicle back and forth trying to inch way out of spot Bill appears from party walks to his van disappears from out of darkness swirling snow Bill comes at them wielding large crowbar smashes car’s headlights taillights side mirrors windshield covered in broken glass Ellen ducks on floor beneath glove compartment sobs cries he’s going to **** us! we’re going to die! Odysseus steers station wagon free floors gas pedal drives on back country roads through furious snowstorm in dark of night no lights Odysseus contorts crouches forward in order to see through hole in shattered windshield Ellen sees headlights behind them coming up fast it is Bill in van Bill banging their bumper follows them all the way back to Hartford to Odysseus’s place they run inside call police Bill sits parked van outside across street as police arrive half hour later Bill pulls away next day Odysseus and Ellen drive to Boston to explain to Ellen’s dad what has happened to his station wagon Odysseus stays with Ellen in Brookline for several nights another holiday party she wants to take him along to meet her friends her social circles are older he thinks to challenge their values be outrageous paints face Ellen is horrified cries you can’t possibly do this to me these are my close friends what will they think? he defiantly answers my face is a mask who cares what i look like? man woman creature what does it matter? if your friends really want to know me they’ll need to look beyond the make-up tonight i am your sluttish girlfriend! sometimes Odysseus can be a thoughtless fool

Laura Rousseau Shane files for divorce from Bill she is exceptionally lovely models at art school she is of French descent her figure possessing exotic traits she stands like ballerina with thick pointed ******* copious ***** hair Odysseus is infatuated she frequently dances pursues him Laura says i had the opportunity to meet Bob Dylan once amazed Odysseus questions what did you do? she replies what could i possibly have in common with Bob Dylan? Laura teases Odysseus about being a preppy then lustfully gropes him grabs holds his ***** they devote many hours to ****** intimacy during ******* she routinely reaches her hand from under her buns grasps his testicles squeezing as he pumps he likes that Laura is quite eccentric fetishes over Odysseus she even thrills to pick zits on his back he is not sure if it is truly a desire of hers proof of earthiness or simply expression of mothering Laura has two daughters by Bill Odysseus is in over his head Laura tells Odysseus myth of Medea smitten with love for Jason Jason needs Medea’s help to find Golden Fleece Medea agrees with promise of marriage murders her brother arranges ****** of king who has deprived Jason his inheritance couple is forced into exile Medea bears Jason 2 sons then Jason falls in love with King Creon’s daughter deserts Medea is furious she makes shawl for King Creon’s daughter to wear at her wedding to Jason  shawl turns to flames killing bride Medea murders her own sons by Jason Odysseus goes along with story for a while but Laura wants husband Odysseus is merely scruffy boy with roving eyes Laura becomes galled by Odysseus leaves him for one of his roommates whom she marries then several years later divorces there is scene when Laura tells Odysseus she is dropping him for his roommate he is standing in living room of her house space is painted deep renaissance burgundy there are framed photographs on walls in one photo he is hugging Laura and her daughters under big oak tree in room Laura’s friend Bettina other girl he fingered first night he met Laura at party is watching with arms crossed he drops to floor curls body sobs i miss you so much Laura turns to Bettina remarks look at him men are such big babies he’s pitiful Bettina nods

following summer he works installing displays at G. Fox Department Store besides one woman gay men staff display department for as long as he can remember homosexuals have always been attracted to him this misconception is probably how he got job his tenor voice suggesting not entirely mature man instead more like tentative young boy this ambiguous manifestation sometimes also evidences gestures thoroughly misleading after sidestepping several ****** advances one of his co-workers bewilderingly remarks you really are straight manager staff are fussy chirpy catty group consequently certain he is not gay they discriminate against him stick him with break down clean up slop jobs at outdoor weekend rock concert in Constitution Plaza he meets 2 younger blond girls who consent to go back to his place mess around both girls are quite dazzling yet one is somewhat physically undeveloped they undress and model for Odysseus radio plays Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly With His Song” both girls move to rhythm sing along he thinks to orchestrate direct decides instead to let them lead lies on bed while curvaceous girl rides his ******* slender girl sits on his face they switch all 3 alternate giggle laughter each girl reaches ****** on his stiffness later both assist with hands mouths his ****** is so intense it leaves him paralyzed for a moment

in fall he is cast as Claudius in production of Hamlet Odysseus rehearses diligently on nights o

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