"primp" poems
I saw you looking in the mirror again today
You can’t seem to go past one
Without taking a second glance
Your own image seems to impress you
As if you were really in love
With the one staring back at you
You never seem to notice me
Watching you as you pass the mirror
And you seem almost a narcissist to me
Who only sees how you prance and primp
Staring long and hard at your appearance
I don’t believe I’ve ever seen
Another look so long or endearingly
Into that looking glass where we all see
Ourselves staring back at us
Could it only be me or are you actually
In love with what you see
Looking back from your reflection
And it is a little troubling to me
When I see you speak to yourself
Long moans of yearning
Puppy, I know you long to believe
That puppy in the mirror
Is your brother or sister!
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
(Warning: This poem has been de-activated on another site. You must be 18 yrs. old to read this; although we were only 15 then)
Way back then,
When we were
Post-pubescent
Boys,
We sat in a circle,
Not a **** ring,
And rhymed our things
Like this:
You make my **** rock;
You make my thing sing;
You make my **** stink;
You make my log throb;
You make my stick thick;
You make my chub rub;
You make my ******* long;
You make my stump jump;
You make my pole roll;
You make my wiener leaner;
You make my bone moan;
You make my man stand;
You make my limp primp;
You make my rod applaud;
You make my spear smear;
You make my peter sweeter;
You make my one eye cry.
And all in unison:
You make my hard on.
We'd continue with our lines,
Til the case was as empty
As our rhymes.
Them there days of simple joys,
Post pubescent
Boys with toys.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
I've noticed that my mustache grows in thicker on one side,
made to wonder if this blunder's due to my brother, how he died,
Never will my reddened beard grow in and lay with grace
because my brothers lifeless body layed a pressure on my face
Most men primp and think of happiness in mirrors and in breath
However, whenever I clean my face I'm forced to think of death,
(with the face of a brother I've never met)
So I celebrate life and do my best to think it limitless
Go out and do, create for you, make proud the worlds dead triplets
I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.
I've noticed that my beard grows thicker in just this tiny spot,
'Cause the way they lay, I cannot help but think a rather morbid thought,
The way you are is picked afar from waned or waxed moon,
but what happens there when you're prepared a rather taxed womb?
The newest of 8 darkened waters with no help to navigate,
You'll admit having dead brothers makes it harder to relate.
But they never were alive so I can't say I have regrets,
I must make with my life, for all the worlds dead triplets
I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.
My mother calls me her surprise and I think "jeezez kryst."
In honesty I'm accident, but the way you said it's nice.
I feel and see it differently inside my orange head,
But, that's just the way **** happens when you're born beside the dead.
You see, I was touched by death before I even knew of life,
I cuddled it and swam beside it up until the knife.
So death, with mercy, stays away and out of sight it gets,
for it knows I held it close, I live, a ghost, of my dead triplet.
I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.
But it can't last forever,
I've already lived too long,
So immortal I'm on paper
and in the wind in song.
I said it cannot last forever,
I should already be dead,
The world it has a shortage
of another orange head
I am the living ghost of Joseph,
My dead triplet.
So with all of that in mind, defined,
my chances should be none,
I never should have had a first,
so I make all my seconds battles won.
I am the living ghost of my brother Joseph,
and all the worlds dead triplets.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
they sleep in the streets we sleep in our beds
they starve we waste
some fought for our country
some took the wrong path
we laugh we make fun they cry they plead
they freeze while we cuddle by the fire
we think we are better but if we were good we would help them
we would save them
some have kids that die from lack of what we throw away
all the while we primp and cherish pets we dont even like
we eat from silver and china
they eat from the ground from what we throw away
we are cowards while they brave the world the night with no where to hide
we are the monsters of the world
they are less fortunate and we roll with laughter because the mistakes we could of made they taught us not to by making them first.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 8:46 AM UTC
I was born to please the glitteratti
Treat them like they’re gods right here on earth.
Whether a Kardashian or Gotti
They think I’ doomed to serve them since my birth.
I’m meant to feed you, bathe you
Live my life just for you.
I’ve got to primp you, **** you
Wipe your royal ****
And if I move too slow
You’ll call me ****
I’m so benighted
And I’ve not denied it.
I was born without a soul
And I know I’m lost now.
My life is blighted
And very much misguided.
Somewhere inside
There is a soul who really
Should know how.
I thought I could gut it out forever
But I found I could only take so much.
Putting up with daily kissing *****
Made me want to retch from every touch.
You are disgusting, thrusting
Your face in everywhere.
Like you are something; you’re nothing,
Got nothing to share!
I no longer care.
I’m not divided
And I just can’t hide it.
I want a life and I intend
To go and get one
A real one.
So get excited.
I have decided
To grow a pair and do
What I know I ought to.
Got to!
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
There he is the little dude with the brown paper
bag Sticking out of his right back pocket.
Taking quick swigs and casting furtive glances
dude is taking major chances. You see.
He knows a lot about who shot John.
A little brown lid perched risky on his matted head
This cat has mastered Newton , he is a highfalutin Playa
real soothsayer. He tips another swig either that or blow his wig
just at the corner of irrelevant and vine. drinking cheap wine.
His blanket has long blown way down the avenue with
yesterday's news as Pork-pie charlie hums the blues counting
cop cars by the ones and twos. Hustler's delight on the far corner
trying to sell something that he never owned. A dip is a guy who picks your pocket.
Oh I see the golden glint of a small gold locket in his stealthy palm
Minutes before it was going south on fifth street tucked away neat.
Now the price of a fix. Pork-pie sees all tells all. That is why he
is missing some teeth well, one reason why.
He just missed his bus and is kicking up dust
Oh well miss one catch one. Old guy in burgundy slacks
Run down shoes slowed him down as he rolled on the ground stood
and dusted off. Charlie smiles then he doffs just another day in Paradise.
A fixture a mixture of pathos and primp
still thinks he is a **** but only when the
spirit hits from the ***** top green bottle.
Pork-pie charlie will never die he has a recruit in the wings
showing him things. Like the old soft shoe and
other tricks to fill up his hat.
Hey mister, you got any spare change.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 10:34 AM UTC
See how the carved ships sail,
not in legions, but alone-
their lacquered bows shining,
their scarves full-blown.
Note how they primp and pose,
as the white waves whisper
and the air goes frail.
'The Sea is a lady
who loves to sing,
and all of her songs
have sail'.
Fling with your arm a pale,
thin shell, the color of a bone.
Sing with your heart
to soothe all spite,
in your voice
so sand-pebble light.
'The Sea is a lady
who loves to sing,
and all of her songs
have sail'.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 5:16 PM UTC
I
I'm trying t' find my ID.
I think I'm missing it.
This thing,
This bright, shining light,
It's hiding in my blindsight.
I'm swimming in mist,
Trying t' find ... "I"
First I'm living
In my crib;
Clinging wrists.
Flitting my crib,
I'm Shy
Crying, whiny twit, missing bitty,
With stinky kids, kicking kitty.
I'm missing my crib.
I'm piling thinking bricks with big kids.
Slimy, smirking ***** hiss 'n' spit.
I'm sitting still in ill-fitting shirts,
shirking sight.
Hiding might blind ****** kids crying, "It's billy!!! Skinny **** 'n' smiling in fits.
"Try finding kind kids x"
Finding "whys" in rising minds.
My mind grinds.
I'm kicking tins, spilling drinks.
Sitting in IT,
Sir chillingly insists "it isn't "fly" spilling drinks! "Shy" brings skills. "Why" brings ills."
I'm still shy.
This crib's tiny.
Tiny minds, blind by bling.
Fit chicks with big ****
Thick ****** thinking with *****
I flit this Brit ****
Brisk flight,
I find "I"
Simply shimmying "ir(o)n lik(e) li(o)n in zi(o)n".
In Brit, I'm still shilling it,
Finding thrill in it,
Hiding 'til it lifts.
I'm brisk fixing it,
I'm hiding in drinks,
Finishing in clink.
Trying things,
High by night,
Slinking by, finding light.
Thinking "this is it!! I'm in!"
Tricky light. Light trick. Sight trick.
Lying in my mind
It's still ****
Is it?
His birth...
This child is my kid!
This brill kid!
I'M in this kid!
Big grin :D
First kid is big kid,
Mid kid is silly kid,
Quickly hitch my Miss.
Third kid. This kid, this girl is my girl.
Brill kids!
I bring my bling by flipping kids thinking bricks;
Fixing bits in thinking ink;
I'm finding it stinks.
Kids drink slick skills.
My mind chills with mind filling drills.
Kids grinding, crying spills -
"Sir, it's **** innit?
With missing mining, missing mills,
Im plying skills by filing bills."
I'm plying skills with mind pills.
Mrs "I" is criticising my id
Im minding my Ps n Qs
Biting my lip
Fists tight, shifting slightly
Slinking nightly
This is ****
Hit slight hitch
Hit BIG hitch
"'kin *****
I finish with my Mrs
Kids split 'twixt cribs.
Kids trips fix splits.
Kiss lips ***
"Night night x"
"Light?"
Click light.
Right, "night!"
I'm hiding my ills in girls.
IT pimps, swiping right.
Primp ****
Minging swill.
Fit chick.
Swift flirt.
Flirt, kiss, flirt, kiss.
Big ****
Tight slit.
Milky spit.
Wiping ****
Hiding ***** sight in mind,
I find it sticks.
I drift
Stick tight
Fighting my plight
Grin
"It's 'right"
Missing my crib
My ID
I'm finding my mind
Sticking with it
Fighting silly flirting ****
Try finding inspiring sights
My kids
My crib
My Inking
My Writing
My mind
My eye
I'm kind
I'm "I"
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
gripped in a stance of personal defence,
it all seems too late as we primp and prop
for the struggle, it appears too much.
floating in a sea of white graces,
for fear, it never looks too clear.
crazed eyes, they stare and glare,
we must exit, all in such haste.
May 30, 2010
May 30, 2010 at 6:40 AM UTC
(for Ingrid)
sudden like,
no intermission tween
sleepy and pangs~pinging,
rested, then arrested
no intervening leavening
proper impromptu improper
slip sleep out of bed,
water wash the eyes,
the most private part
of all of them privates
primp the tongue
rinse fresh mint,
musk the body chest,
where hands go to hide
in forests of hair shirts
so the contrast of
smooth shaven
skin fresh cut
never clearer
go down to sandy beach
look for, take the
chances of never,
overturn the stones
protruding inviting asking
for discovery
each a chance of ever
each was a chance of never
all now mine,
sanded smooth pebbles
in sea~lotion washed,
fine coolness on warm hands,
brain thought-full-ness simplify,
so beautiful so beautiful
mantra unmasking human peculiar
oils essential
she turns towards...
mostly sleeping
logic dictating queries of ascertain-meant,
time and temperature, place?
hands answer all
here and now and the heat
of jeopardy
collect the pebbles in pockets
till overflowing overturning spilling unaided,
you cannot find the line that defines
the separation of
beach and sea,
church and state,
for it has been washed away by
uncovering discovering derisking
so many chances of never,
so many pebbles of ever
with toy shovel fingers,
warming eye scalpels cutting exploration,
exploiting the workers and the queen bee,
hidden in moist sand
looking for undiscovered poems
in skin folds,
no castle building just hole digging,
treasure seeking thrilling pebbles finding
head dizzy sun hot stones overturning
finding noisy ones where once
sleep suspending breathing quiet stored
you don't waste time editing,
just dig and spill,
just laser and spit
metaphors
that lance and crash - mixing into each other in confusion,
uncaring, for nonetheless,
clarity converts chances
of never
into ever,
integrating the what ifs
into what is...
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 5:59 AM UTC
Run and run
But never reach
The ending that
I have dreamt
Have seemed to live
Over and over in my head
It is you and me
No matter how
I primp and preen
Your eyes are drawn to see
Her and her and her
Ever heard?
The sound of my heart
Barely beating at it breaks
As you gaze
At her and her and her
Hey you!
Do not you feel?
The goosebumps I get
When you walk
By and "bye" I sigh
Standing unnoticed
You stare at her and her and her
Can not you smell?
The scent of my perfume
I put it on just
To possibly be noticed
Yet you breathe in the aroma
Of her and her and her
Do you taste that?
The flavor of my tears
They fall and fall
In a puddle right here
I am more
Than she will ever be
I was made for
Following you
My greatest asset in this war
After all
Is fair in love and
When cupid throws his bow
I am pointing his way
Love is in the air
You gaze through
The fog it creates
And feel the breeze of
Her and her and her
And never me
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
Crutches are gone
Pain and Angst gather with each glance
Wheres the you to save you
Life is skewed
Abilities foregone
Matter is higher than the mind
Painful thoughts intertwine
A perfect embarrassment
The pavement is vacant
This somebody is a nobody
Primp and proper on paper and face value
It scented with delight and magnificence
Eyes are burned with malice
You wish, take me away from this hellish place
The wrongs won't make a right
Oh **** where is that light
A hot cigarette between your fingers
A chilled beer to your lips
You coerce pain away
And until the light of day
All else is at bay
As eyes open at crease
Peace is at a fast decrease
The day grows strong as you are weakened
To pretend only strengthens your ability to
Defend
Your mind is a killer
A force to be reckoned with
An unshakable legacy
Yet rather than replenish
Its bound to diminish
Without the you to save you
Who are you?
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 3:54 PM UTC
Dog Days of U.S. Politics
Our dog days of pols and pundits are here
Like pathogens thriving without antidote
Or insects immune to every repellent
They adapt and survive; their goal is your vote.
Twenty-four/seven they're on the attack
Inventing solutions with simple sound bites
Then eager reporters with blow-dried ambition
Primp, and turn fiction to fact overnight.
"Democracy" poisoned by anonymous donors
Congress panders to a privileged few
Their money controls and dictates the fate
Of pols who have pledged to represent you.
The U.S. readily chastises others
Advising and preaching democracy
While our congress is bought and sold on a scale
That is laughable for its hypocrisy.
So political ads infested your home
You call EPA who deal with pollution:
"Please dispose of these, sir, I am sick of the lies."
"An infection of Broadcast Toxins," he sighs,
"For which we have no solution."
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
I wash and clean
primp and pluck
and gussy-up
I shave and cut
**** in my gut
and smile double
it's a lot of trouble
to be invisible
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 4:29 PM UTC