"ploy" poems
As the sun slowly sets
The precursor to the week
With deadlines,
Orders,
Oh so bleak
The calm before the storm
Too restless to enjoy
For everybody knows
It's sunday's melancholy ploy
Responsibilities loom overhead
Our heart as heavy as the air
The world has now gone silent
We sit in subtle fear
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
Vaginas are all shapes & sizes
Not many vary from the fold
there are very few surprises
Seems nature's gone & set it's mould
But the ****** has such allure
A pull on man to lesbian alike
A calling so strong and pure
Enough to turn a straight girl ****
Is it the promise of warmth & touch
A memory of a time inside
The scent of our matriarch's crotch
Draws us to those legs held wide?
It was nature's way of ensuring
The human race continues on
So that our presence here's enduring
Never ceasing. On & on
Instinct has been subject to a ploy
To harbour this hypnotic power
Sell it back, a high class toy
Put to work this delicate flower
Control the basic urge of man
The essential need to drink & eat
Once you create the ultimate fan
Then the surplus you do deplete
Until it feels that a simple look
Purchased, from a few feet away
Is as good as one hard ****
Copulation they do delay
And so vaginas became a mystery
Sold back to all who do desire
Remember to look back in history
The vaginas are for more than hire
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
sad boy;
what a pathetic
ploy
this is for my attention.
all you contrive
tastelessly
always lacks concession.
every word,
and image you fake
I reject, from my
possession,
for all you are
's worth less than this
effortless expression.
you see, my natural
creativity
surmounts your ****
impression
of the beauty of my work
and my powerful
transgression.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
And gusts a wind that never sleeps
When at the pond arrives a breathless boy,
Knees kneel within the reeds and muck
To glimpse distorted carp beneath.
He counts his boundless hunter's luck
As shiftless as a seaweed wreath,
Then baits the wand that bears his angler's ploy,
And gusts discern he plays for keeps.
This boy roguish
As fish are coy.
And silent in the swaying deeps
The drifting dance of carps who dream and wish
Is ceased by ripples from a splash --
Refractions of the surface shake
As sinks an enigmatic flash:
Allure from realms beyond the lake.
The one that hungers proves the bravest fish,
And silent, at the lure he leaps.
Bravery
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
The sweetest joy
Maniacal ploy
The plot thickens
I start grinning
As the goosebumps
Crawl up my spine
Its time to get even
Even if that means
Leaving my current
Mental state of sanity
Death to humanity
I guess its the imperfect
Man in me
My morals hide
My smile is wide
Now is the time
That vengance is mine
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC
We need feminism
Because nobody puts a baby in the corner and forces it to leave it's creator
Or have Santa's Elves only make half of the toys
It may seem decent but it's all a ploy
A life is worth being equally enjoyed
Regardless of what gender you are
Staying at home was so last century
Let's show the world how amazing women are
Equality for all
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
Joy to the world,
Oh, Happiness is dead
A lie sold to the people.
The devil that they've bed,
An evil ploy, material toys,
Replacing Joy instead
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
She is like a red, thorn-stricken rose,
A beauty prized inside my garden,
Her body, like the petals, gracefully flows,
Movement preventing the coldest heart to harden.
I could be undoubtfully mistaken,
For my eyes play tricks, like mischievous young boys,
Making it rather difficult to awaken from a dream,
Or escape from a well planned ploy.
Only time will tell us, if it is meant to be,
Fate will bring my real soulmate, at a moment of overwhelming darkness,
The strong waves are beating against the shore, and back out to sea,
Until I meet perfection, wearing a white linen dress.
However, don't let the oppourtunity to find her pass you by,
Especially when it presents itself in the blue sky.
Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
Thinking with short breath, gripping my chest, sinking with stress?
Just to attest, Imagine putting stress to the test
Over pushing boundaries set with intent
Chasing leads, gaining lost time pursuing a lust with broken trust
Only to rise to the question
Can the duality of morals and ethics which define us..
Be overwritten?
Misconstrued needs for skeptics lost in line
Slowly assimilating breathless methods
Hijacked
Black rose petals spiraling to conclusion, Decomposing as if to forget this
Why don't I neglect this elusive euphoria defined in terms of confusion?
Split paths once veering in opposite directions begin running parallel
I know I'm here, but who's that there?
Ominous reflections veer back with eyes unfamiliar
A face with no definition grabs my wrist lurching me forward
Weightlessly ***** following a diverging direction with questioned intention.
Where are you taking me? (Silence)
Operating in two places at once, questioning who is the driver
Hijacked
There but ever increasingly distant, attempting to reach you
The sunrise rekindling the spark of yesterdays intuitions
Preserving eloquence like a flower in full bloom
Suddenly fades eerie in an instant, dwindling on gloomy restless expressions
Cloudy perception refracted by crystalline illusions
The evanescent cypress terpene, king of bliss
Flowing in the direction towards what has been calling it most
An icy chill enters my chest, a constant race to chase an endless quest
A ploy of acceptance with a cotton ball
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
The Grump put on his morning face.
Wiped away crystallised grit ,
Straight out of her teared up eyes.
My goodness this poem is shaped out of ****
A deliberate ploy,
For she is woman, and he is boy.
He had a *** change,
Normally grumpy is male, hee hee,
Today grumpy is me.
The last Sunday of a somewhat sulky year.
Look deep in my eyes and surely you'll see a tear.
I don't cry.....
Why ever should I ?
Mentally strong as a freaking ox,
Manipulative as a silver fox.
A wicked sense of humour.
Thank f**k ,
Without that I'd probably have no luck,
Not out on the pull.
That just isn't cool.
Ladies don't.
This lady can't be bothered!
(C) Livvi
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
I sing of life at state expense
a state devoid of common sense
addicted to obesity
impolitic in body weight
yet headed for austerity
as other people’s money ends
plebeian class-revolt transcends
our bureaucratic history.
They stack the monthly welfare decks
complain the service second-rate
those sullen clients, thankless louts
pajama-clad with tattooed pouts
whose girlfriends swell while babies cry;
the fathers mumble, sagging high
and wait in lines. The women try
to fool the lunar period
conceptions waxing myriad
while teenage dads discover ***
and social workers cash the checks
the daily urban nightmare is
enough to scare a nation broke
in clouds of marijuana smoke:
the cashless global mystery.
The breeders born in tropic lands
are tempted till they take the bait
no baby-momma understands
what family means, what life demands
Your undertakers overstate
in order to remunerate
your Democratic history:
a bankrupt urban mystery
the not-so-Great Society.
The ghetto sperm-donation ploy
makes babies but maintains the boy
to run around from mom to mom
slow-motion population bomb
as if to merely demonstrate
that social program funders wait
till number-crunchers aggravate
the urban teenage welfare state.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
An old man sits
on the edge of the bed
just after he's tucked in his grandson
He fiddles and fits
While his old gal, she knits
And his boy sleeps, soft and handsome
But what is this?
He can't help but think
As his grandson rolls restlessly round
What sort of ploy
May claim my boy
When his pops is dead in the ground?
His wife, she shakes head
All afluttered and red
Claiming that he's been a fool
For Death, he comes
For every which ones
As sure as summers for school
But wife, he cries
With tears in his eyes
As his boys turns roughly about
"What will become
Of my dear grandson
When a grandfather he is without?"
His wife, she smiles
Is silent awhile
As her needles go clickity-clack
"This boy, you see
Is our legacy
And a family he never shall lack."
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
Kiss you low..Here I go
Communicate soul to soul
Touch is magic watch me grow
Lick for lick blow for blow
Open up to this kiss
Introduction to poetic bliss
I'm a G...I won't miss
Mark it off your bucket list
M.A.N not a boy
Ignorance I will destroy
Mastermind what's the ploy?
Sauce you up just like soy
Eat you up munch you down
Parade you pretty around town
Wicked doesn't need a crown
Whimper when I eat you bound
Rub you wet...Rub you wet..like a wish I'm gonna get
Oh so wet..Oh so wet..love it when you ready set
Enter thighs feel my rise
Stroke..Choke..steady and wise
Get that prize..Get that prize..No words needed can read your eyes
Hold it...ugh..hold it some more...on the bed then to the floor
Against the wall..through backdoor..on a sacred tantric tour
Feel me guide..as you ride..inside feel me slip and slide
Hit it wide..technique applied..what is needed I shall provide
Feel the quake..legs will shake..more than love we will make
What awakes? From pounding stake..squirting till no more can take
Still we go..beyond the soul..where no one ever goes
Yoni flower blooms like rose..Gyrate till your nectar flows
Taste is sweet..flavor unique..savor moment we reach our peak
What is complete? No need to speak..find what you sought to seek
Next level we begin to glow..Shine like stars put on a show
*** ****** this Scorpio...with poetry I Kiss You Low...
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Good days come and pass,
But bad days stop all time.
They bring about
Tears of spite
They darken every rhyme.
I hate bad days
They ruin me,
They take from me my joy.
And sweep away all thoughts of peace
With their malicious ploy.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
songs of freedom in Kenya are paradoxical of themselves
they have become the songs of oppressive tyranny
they are not songs that were sang by freedom fighters
in the tropical forests of aberdares and Mabanga
they are blissful carols of powers that be
mouthed by the state poets in the deadly feats
of political sycophancy fuelled by cult of betrayal
and espionage, a real substructure of state dictatorship
they are not the true songs of mau mau
that were sang by Kimathi wa miciuri
they are the songs of the top crust of the tribal
and political powers that be in oblivion of
the cultural revolutionaries that countermanded
cultural Darwinism of European imperial gamesters
they are not the songs sang by Elijah Masinde
of Dini Msambwa that spirited up cultural aura
of cultural dignity;which cautioned certainly
an African against the cultural call of the white culturalizer
the African to balk and turn his back
and **** and spit scornfully at cultural trickster in the colonial ploy
to dance for Dini ya Msambwa in the spirit of war and fires of war
that is to be fought in preservation of democracy and cultural freedom.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
a big fight up in saturn causes cyclone activity in queensland and northern territory
you see ronnie biggs and ted bunny were having a quiet methane smoothie, in saturn
club rings, when they suddenly broke out in a fight, and this wasn’t just any fight, no, it caused
big cyclone activity in quuensland and northern territory and gold coast where my brother lives
has a bif of rough seas, and my dad is making sure that the cyclone doesn’t affect gold coast
and my brothers family, but ronnie biggs and ted bundy had no compassion, and really started
fighting with methane, which is causing the rough seas, and dad, is trying to keep the cyclone away
but, it looks like ted bunny and ronnie biggs are going to get their way, as they, poured methane all over
the saturn club rings, you see, what us cosmic sleepers must do, is alert australians living in these areas
to listen to authorities, and go to a safe place, for barry allan’s ploy to save this world, hopefully there won’t
be any casualties, and hopefully my brothers family will be safe, hopefully dad can save the gold coast
and keep his old family safe, it’ll be a hard job, you see ted bundy and ronnie biggs are still fighting, saying
let’s destroy the earth, let’s destroy australia first, let’s use methane to ruin the whole entire earth, you see
me as cronus is getting dad to help me keep the methane from forcing the cyclones to really **** people, and hopefully
nothing will be lost, but it will be ****** hard, because ted bunny and ronnie biggs are really ****** well ****** off
with everyone, as well as cronus, and knows how crocus’s current earth body is when storms come to cities his
brother or family lives in, decided to hopefully wreck cronus’s life, and his dad barry allan, is making sure he helps
cronus keep his younger son safe from this really fierce cyclone, i know i am going on and on saying the same thing
over and over, but this is a way, to bring all cyclone activity not to take too much control on queensland and northern territory
you see, ted bundy likes the idea of using methane to destroy the earth, to get crocus’s earth body, to SHUT UP, cause
you should listen to your voices when they said methane is a gas, and you can’t drink it, but you can fight it, and the methane
stopped dad from being a boy, but he says girls and boys are equal, and barry allan is fighting ted bundy and ronnie biggs
from having this cyclone get close to my brothers family, but ted bundy liked the idea of hurting the gold coast, and cause
problems for my brother, and barry allan and cronus are protecting the gold coast from a very fierce cyclone activity
and cronus and buddha YELLED OUT
UMMMMMMMMMM STOP ted bundy and ronnie biggs from taking too much affect in cyclones in qld and northern territory
immmmmmmmmmm keep our family safe from this methane cyclone caused by ted bundy and ronnie biggs
ummmmmmmmmmm stop people swimming in dangerous waters, they will be doing what ted and ronnie want
you see, ronnie biggs and ted bundy are fighting each other, and dad and cronus who is me, are guarding anyone who is on the earth
making people too scared to not go in the water, ted bundy is enjoying people going in the water and so is ronnie biggs
because it makes what they are doing so very much right, and i tell ya i tell ya i tell ya, my father, is helping my previous life cronus
ME AND DAD MUST SAVE THE QUEENSLAND AND NORTHERN TERRITORY COASTLINE
ME AND DAD MUST SAVE THE QUEENSLAND AND NORTHERN TERRITORY COASTLINE
save it from the dreaded ronnie biggs and ted bundy, RIGHT NOW
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Disturbing Behavior
disturbing behavior, is what you'll see from me,
disturbing behavior, is what you'll get from me,
I have only one thing, on this troubled mind,
what next disturbing thing, can this freak show find
obnoxious revealing, of my inner faults and fears,
gentle concealing, of my blow gun darts and spears,
telling you one thing, when I'm meaning something else,
hoping I conceal the truth, releasing my magic spells
cause I am so caught up in me, its all about my wants,
hiding behind my fears, showing artificial fronts
revolting persuasions, is what I try to employ,
persistent evasions, from the truths my ploy,
never giving straight answers, to any questions asked,
have to keep my feelings, yes my fears stay masked
disturbing behavior, is what I'm all about you see,
disturbing behavior, is what you'll always get from me,
there's just one thing, on this troubled mind,
calculating the next disturbing thing in this hollow mind
cause I am so caught up in me, its all about my wants,
hiding behind my fears, showing artificial fronts
David Nelson aka Gomer Lepoet
New song lyrics, get me to the recording booth quickly
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 10:00 PM UTC
Cause it’s all just paper in the end,
Were all just stuck here playing pretend.
Some of us acting like we god,
While other have never even heard of a ****** iPod.
We pray to that god at the end of the day,
And then curse his name if things don’t go our way.
We’re corrupted and ****** up, dishin’ out blame,
Wishing for superman, left with some ******* named...
Who gives a **** with his name if they’re all just fuckboys ,
Woman pick yourself up you’re repressed by the man, part of his ploy!
And were all stuck here playing pretend,
Might as well make you name a story for the end.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
There’s an Indian restaurant down the road,
And the owners have a beautiful daughter,
But she’s the apple of her daddy’s eye,
So I really don’t think I oughta.
There was a Chinese takeaway next door,
That did the best fried-rice,
But the authorities came and shut ‘em down,
For infestation of rats and lice.
There’s a newsagents further along,
But it doesn’t do much to dazzle,
Unless you want overpriced cigarettes,
And back issues of Razzle.
The Arab café across the road,
Does the best cappuccinos around,
The sound of Algerian pensioners laughing
Is such a beautiful sound.
There’s a Working Men’s around the corner,
Where the Guinness is dirt cheap,
And in it I’ve had drunken nights,
And memories I’d fight to keep.
There’s a chicken shop on the way back home,
Which I must say is pretty useful,
When I’m staggering home, ****** as a ****
The chicken burgers taste ******* beautiful.
There’s also a chippy down the way,
That does an excellent saveloy,
It got burnt down, and I can’t help but suspect,
It was a sneaky insurance ploy.
There’s an Irish pub next door to that,
Full of drunken, singing Micks,
The Dubliners on the jukebox,
It’s where I get my fix.
But I’m always drawn to the Indian restaurant,
Where the owners have a beautiful daughter,
She’s witty, glamourous, the same age as me,
And I really think that I oughta.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
Tall men think of robust ladies
Shorter ladies dream of length,
Toothless people fantasize
Of mandibles of white, bright strength.
Porcine women lust for thinness
Breast less girlies long for *****
Dissatisfaction fills the air
It's greener grass or down the tubes.
Black man hopes for pale complexion
White girls bake to raise a tan,
Brown eyed lassie's envy blue-ness,
***** lesbian's, a man.
The wealthy want the easy life
Beggars yearn for cash,
Dissatisfaction's in the air
And mirrors are so trash.
Across the human spectrum far
Mankind wants for more,
The grass is always greener
Looking through another door.
It's bigger, better, brighter, best
The quest is always there
Relentlessly pursued with glee,
Bright eyes and bushy hair.
Results are mixed and varied here
Some reach the holy grail
To watch it slip beyond their grasp
Then founder, fall and fail.
Some teeter on a platform,
Some grasp the prize and run,
Some hit their stride at bounding pace
To see the contest won.
But by and large there's misery
Few climb the road to joy,
Frustration be my brother
Dissatisfaction be my ploy.
Limitation is our lot in life.
Our secret to success
Is to love the mirror warts and all
All other **** ...repress !!
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
23 December 2009
www.worthyofpublishing.com
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:15 PM UTC
Little monster couldn’t walk quite right
Her legs ached and burned at times
The healer didn’t have a cure
And the ones at “home” said it’s nothing more
Than monster’s own creation because
She’s a wretched creature displaying loss,
Always a burden for the ones who care
And no more did they want to bear.
“Little monster, you filthy girl,
Leave the house and find some work.
You leech at our money, our love and care,
And then complain of pain everywhere.
You despicable monster, weak of mind,
what will you gain from studying time?
I wish you’d leave right now, but wait,
You’ll only ruin your family’s name.
We came together for your happiness,
You hateful thing, why do you make a mess?
“I’m in pain, I’m in pain” it’s nothing but a ploy
You little worm, with emotions you toy.
Leave, you ***** get off my mind,
You know no love, so how can you find
Pain in my words, you’re just a rock,
I wish you’d die, you ruinous block.”
Monster girl fled from those words
‘I’m alright’ she said till she was numb.
In this vast world she felt alone,
With trees she talked of finding more.
Her body ached as she fell to the ground
Watched the stars till it was cold around.
A piece of glass was what she could own
Without being a weight on other souls.
This jagged piece reflected the light
From the moon and thousand fireflies,
Little girl thought the world was so nice,
But alas, she was just a monster in night.
She heard from the house her father’s voice
As he talked about her as a screeching noise,
She rarely spoke and yet she was
The pain in the ears of the ones she loved.
I won’t cry anymore, she pledged,
Her room alone knew that she wept,
So often times she thought of hanging herself
But she wasn’t sure she could bear being out of breath.
And so it was she held a piece of glass,
Shimmering, it seemed like her freedom at last,
If only she was a human girl,
Pretty and lovable, she wouldn’t hurt.
Little monster girl smiled to herself
She wouldn’t cause pain to other selves,
The stars would remember that she had tried,
The sun would know she had no respite.
The glass glided over her soft dark skin,
Where only bruises marked her wrist thin,
Little drops of blood became more,
Little monster thought of happy lores.
“And they lived happily after” she mumbled quiet,
Her dark eyes closed to moonlight,
A firefly sat on her cold forehead
Thinking her to be a creature dead.
As the mist rose, she fell asleep,
The moon watched over her peaceful dreams.
As the moon’s lover rose
So did she,
To the worst nightmare that could ever be.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
Loving you from afar is like admiring a flower that I refuse to pick. Simply taking a picture would never be as fulfilling as holding it in my hands but it's beauty remains for others to experience for generations if I refrain from affecting it's benevolent state. I planted you, a young seed in the desert only to watch you germinate amongst a lush forest teeming with fertility. You spawn roots from nothingness in a ploy to recreate love in my image. Predators lust after your flesh but your roots remain firm in the soil. You pray as I pray to the sun with veins full of water and energy. I see distorted reflections of myself in your essence and therefore sacrifice my passion, in the name of appreciating life
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
N THE YEARS OF 1995 AND 2007, I WENT TO WORK AT
NORTHSOUTH COTRACTORS, AND I MET STEPHEN
VOLKS, AND HE WAS A VERY ENTHUIASTIC PERSON
ALWAYS WORKED HARD, DID THINGS HE SHOULDN’T DO
SOMETIMES, BUT STEVE VOLKS DIED AND HIS MOTHER
CRIED AT THE FUNERAL, AND STEVEN VOLKS HAS BEEN
REINCARNATED AS A CAT, LIVING NEXT DORR TO ME IN HAWKER
THE CATS NAME IS JADE, AND I LIKE JADE, AND JADE IS A REALLY
CUTE CAT, REMINDS ME OF VOLKI’S LAUGH AT NORTH SOUTH YA KNOW
I GOT ON WELL WITH VOLKI, AND NOW AS I SEE JADE ENTER MY
BALCONY, TRYING TO PULL MY SCREEN IN, YA SEE
YA SEE, AT LEAST STEVEN VOLKS, IS AT PEACE WITH BEN
MY NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR LOOKING AFTER IT WELL
YEAH AS JADE IS SEEN BY ME, I MUTTER TO MYSELF, HI VOLKI HOWS IT GOING
AND DAD AND ROBIN WILLIAMS, HAVE ENTERED THE ****** OF DAVID
AND LISA CAMPBELL AND LEO, WHO IS THEIR ELDEST BOY
WELL APPARENTLY HIS PREVIOUS LIFE WAS OLGA CHICK
AND I MADE SURE THAT DAD BROUGHT HIS AFTER LIFE TOYBOY ROBIN WILLIAMS
TO MEET WITH OLGA CHICK, YA SEE, THIS IS A PLOY TO BRING OLGA
TO DAD, OLGA WAS A WORKER AT VINNIES LIKE ME
AND SHE WORKED IN A BIG CAFETERIA, ONCE, AND
AFTER SHE DIED, AND SHE WAS A LOVELY LADY, A REALLY LOVELY LADY
AND SHE BECAME THE FIRST BORN OF DAVID AND LISA CAMPBELL
OLGA IS NOW LEO CAMPBELL, AND LEO IS GETTING TWIN SIBLINGS
DAD AND ROBIN WILLIAMS, REINCARNATIONS AS I WANTED DAD TO MEET OLGA
SHE IS SUPER NICE, AND I WANT DAVID LISA LEO TO MEET DAD AND ROBIN WILLIAMS SO THEIR SPIRITS DON’T STRAY
LIKE I DID, AND MANY OTHERS DID
I BELIEVE OLGA IS LEO CAMPBELL CAUSE I AM A BUDDHIST
AND STEVEN VOLKS IS JADE CAUSE I AM A BUDDHIST
STEVEN WANTS TO BE JADE, SO HE CAN CURE HIS SOUL FROM MENTAL BREAKDOWNS
OLGA AND STEVE, UMMMMMM, LEO AND JADE UMMMMM
UMMMMMM OLGA IS LEO, UMMMMMM STEVEN VOLKS IS JADE
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
another
smothered lover
in the Hollywood hills
unbag the bottle
crack the seal
oh the appeal
of intake
for the sake
of intoxication
so meek and unique
in gurgled screams
a pixie in the hand of a king
compelled
to discretely
capture the beauty
in eternity
expelled
i just felt
i had to nest a shell
and befell
clearing her residual
flirtatious signals
even in the squirms
and even in the squeals
even though i know
she yearns
to be hooked by her gills
dragged through landfills
in a projected field
where she would yield
and kiss me.
i'm gonna pretend
to love her
as i tenderly
shove her
in the river
of our love
take her under
my loving thunder
and plunder her
when drugged
dazed in her wonder
i hold her under
from above
if only for a moment
we locked eyes in love
she fit me like glove
remnants
disposed of
in a rug
posed so beautifully
for the smack
hack and rip
one pretty *****
dumped
in an irrigation ditch
triumphed
our wordless
relationship
its over *****
move on with it
in the mouths
of varmints
oh
charming
as im clicking *****
on key chains
sticking misfits
with loose lips
usually homeless
decoys
here to destroy
nothing
in my twisted ploy
to employ
maximum points
conjoint
my addictive anger
to something a little stranger
im going to dangle
her entrails
in front of her eyes
while i'm bangin her
shes looking so surprised
from every camera angle
the mangled piece of ****
what a lamo
hypnotized
in the passing of life
in the
blood
the ***
the ****
and the knife
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
aesthetic is etiquette
is:
what is & isn't
either:
yet is both: in that they
are the same:
disparaging meanings...
nouns: the source
of ultimate meaning,
crux words...
and the source of
the thesaurus...
i wasn't looking
for a mathematical
conflation of grammar
either...
but...
aesthetic ≠ etiquette...
but...
it does! to keep up
with the formality
of norm, of power,
then
(the)
aesthetic = (the) etiquette,
but there is no "the"
to begin with...
yet...
if the aesthetic ≠ the etiquette...
why, either?!
dumb questions usually
prescribe
a continued willing
to perpetuate:
unquestioned...
hence the dumb questions...
my dumb question
lacks any elaborate ploy
to topple the status quo
for the sole reason that...
my alternative
matches
no genius of the originator
basis...
wordings are not
simply chanced to
be worth debating
a miscarriage
of implementing
the averted coin-flip...
(funny, how the articles
prop up,
miraculously)...
etiquette?
a macabre variety
of aesthetic...
nothing more...
but... etiquette is
still subordinate of
aesthetic...
isn't it?
hardly:
etiquette is still
subordinate off
aesthetic...
is it?!
a month spent
in a monastery of a novel...
cradle these words
unto a course
of nullification...
if i'd utter them in
a clutter of sparrows:
i'd be a equivalent to a mute
stone...
if i'd utter them in
a lion's harem:
i'd be a cat's meow (if not less)...
if i'd utter them in
the crow's shamanism
of all shadows...
i'd still be less
the croaking hark
of a voice that
might dictate: obey...
so...
so...
ah...
was kommen:
was ist...
und alles was:
ich, ich sterben...
ich war geboren?
ich war
nie sein: geboren....
ich war sein: sterben!
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC