"privates" poems
I stand so proud and tall.
With my nose pressed against the wall.
I know I was naughty, is this why your punishing me?
pssng my pants, you make me get on my knees.
Naughty Boy! Naughty Boy you shout.
After your done smelling that, I am washing your mouth out!
My nose sore from being punished by you.
What next? What now are you going to do?
the bar of soap inserts my mouth all the way to my throat.
I wont be naughty anymore than my privates were groped.
I know I looked in your ***** drawer today.
Now I am going to really pay.
Trying them on I know there for you.
I guess this naughty boy had no clue.
Putting them on my head and shoving them in my mouth.
Still at the same time washing my mouth out.
Waiting for you to come back today.
I am not scared Iv’e been naughty in every way.
No please I am not hungry, don’t make me eat the vegetables.
I sit and pout at the kitchen table.
forcing them into my mouth and making me swallow.
You lead on a leash and I am forced to follow.
I am your pet, your naughty little slave.
And it’s almost time to play.
But we both know what comes first.
The cutting of my arms to satisfy your thirst.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC
Your dick's on parade
Snapchat your privates for me
**** pics of the soul
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
Off to the park a picnic yeah
three women a wean
and a man who don't scare
well not too easily...
as long as the swings
don't make him queasily
up the slide ok wee girl
she's gonna fall my toes all curl
nope she seems to have it dialled
little hurricane dynamo child
then the swings
for about12 seconds
three turns on the roundabout
maybe less I reckon
then back to the slide
God I am puffed
hasn't the wee girl had enough?
Ok I grab achicken roll
two bites its in a muddy hole
this picnic is turning out to be
endurance playing for Jeremy
tried the kids swing I got jammed
like wearing steel Y-fronts
my privates were crammed
ok so it was all my choice
I say in a funny high-pitched voice
"Jesus go up" I am told so I go
Only she calls me that now you know
where she got it who can guess
got an idea won't confess
(better than being a skinny Welsh Tw*t)
starting to flag like I smoked a ***
need an emergency sicky bag
go home soon and lie down quick
after picnic and playing I am quite sick
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
Lust is a sin everyone will enjoy,
from the bums in the courtyard,
mingling and thrusting ***** privates,
to the chaste; to you and me, and celibate,
The celibate lust for self-recognition,
for their gods,
for a higher purpose,
To strive is to lust and to lust,
it is only human to lust for comfort,
for control,
for order.
Goals of every sect are prized,
Sought after are the lusts
that guide us,
that energize the batteries in our backs,
tells us to do crazy things,
some promote devastation.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
"You're ******* your life away Bobby," screamed Auntie Abhaya in her native tongue. Malayalam has many nuances and maybe a better translation is, "lightning currents from your privates and blast River Ganga, streaming your soul away." Dravidian poetics go as such and Auntie Abhaya seemed to have quite dramatic flare. In any case, cousin Bobby was once again, drunk. Auntie Ay, as we lovingly referred to her, in her fearless way, was having nothing of it. Worse yet, seems Bobby had funded his ****** with rupees stolen from Auntie Chhaya's purse. A storm of tears she was, in the corner of the humble hut they all resided in, in Kerala.
Kerala's backwaters wash in from the Arabian Sea. Tropical delicacies abound; markets filled with fish, pineapple and coconut groves, and an array of spice that keep the main agricultural commerce of India most enticing to the rest of the world. Yet, life earnings are hard and for some hard habits easy to pick up. This was truest in Bobby's case, though he did try and try to make his family proud.
As I was only a guest in this loving but burdened home, and recognizing a family crisis at hand, I and my traveling partner put forth finances lost to ensure our safe return to Mumbai north in Maharashtra and not embarrass our host family any longer. Though we had touched a Garden of Eden, the lesson of banishment was still at hand.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
(AP) another tragic report today of snow mermaids resurfacing a phenomena of drastic blizzard conditions young men lost in blinding blowing winds that sends a person forging foreword then back a step are sightings of real or imagined snow nymphs naked gorgeous young women giggling frolicking through 8’ snow drifts arching limbs grinding hips twiddling fingers toes swaying long hair spreading thighs exposing privates pinching ******* pursing lips gesturing to be seduced beckoning into freezing snow entrapment eventually freezing victims into lifeless blue corpses only additional forensic evidence left behind are definite female snow angel signature tracks in surrounding snowfall areas since onslaught of February 1st storm strike 18 male bodies missing 13 bodies recovered all found grasping clutching clinging desirously to unknown source 5 men still missing if you suspect the whereabouts of any of these individuals please contact 911 authorities warn men of a certain age wear appropriate winter gear scarves raised hats lowered eyes squinting look away without delay if you think you are witness to one or more of these deadly snow mermaids GPS immediately to Police postscript in the several thousand years since these occurrences have been recorded not a single snow mermaid has ever been caught
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
Where it all started...
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2018179/only-a-dumbass-man-could-love-a-smartass-poodle/
<•>
The Obvious Fact: Dogs Have Souls
******** poodle, of prior fame, suggests*
"surely this ditty will trend before one reads to the very end"
1. as everyone loves dogs
2. especially smart poodles
3. who writes soulful poems
really, here we are talking and you are gazing into my brown eyes adoringly,
and
you humans
still debate if there is a
god?"*
and then dog yawned,
a gigundo doggy yawn,
which is a supernatural,
miraculous biblical thing to behold
<•>
for no reason other than gravity
man says,
sometimes my earbuds fall out of my ears,
without provocation, of their own accord,
to remind that though they're in,
the music isn't in,
and neither
am I anywhere real, concrete,
existential,
to be found
which prompts a furious philosophical poodle to man discourse,
as to my exact whereabouts
badass poodle quotes Joan Baez (Diamonds and Rust):
"My poetry was lousy you said,"
and to verify my geo-physical locus,
and his opinion of the human's written hocus pocus
poetry,
gentle farts and adds, low growling,
"there your are!"
how I love that
centered, down to earth,
in my bed, in my heart
dog
<•>
"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action."
Goldfinger
a favorite phrase from a movie of one's youth.
that rises to the surface, when smartass-u-know-who
reads my weak human mind and yes,
farts twice more, adding poetically:
*"the best things in life always
come in threes,
her, me, and you"*
"glad to be included," I replied,
to which he licked his
privates publicly,
adding lowly,
*"every smart poodle need a leashed human,
as if any self-respecting poodl could or would
type their own poems,
who's
the *** now!"*
and we got up, got the leash
(for human to carry)
put our earbuds in,
went for a sunrise
sniff-walk-and-compose
on the beach
the two **********
arguing
which Pandora station to turn on,
two only love poets, both thinking of their shared
her
finally, compromising, in tail wagging agreement on,
The Righteous Brothers
<•>
p.s. lol, only a ******* man could love a ******** poodle.
~
8:33am
8/11/17
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:32 PM UTC
I did that once
Hid my shame, boxed it away and gave it to my friend the closet
He was a good friend that kept all my secrets
He would never betray me
I did that once
Laughed at their little jokes that were towards women and girls
They were ****** and had all laughing both in and out but for me it was only out
I boxed my feelings away and gave them to The Closet
I did that once
Shut my eyes tightly and force images of women's privates
And when A thought of a boy or a man entered my mind I would boxed that too
The Closet took it with open arms and hid it away from the light
I did that once
Chose a girl that would help mask me
I hid behind her and used her as a front
When a question arosed I pulled her closer
My closet has hidden many things about me
Things that I have done are carefully wrapped in newspaper
Hiding in the Closet
I did that once
Shed some light on my trueself
and opened The Closet's door a crack
I let some things come out
I did that once and I don't have to do it again
I am no longer ashamed even though I might blush
I love the way I am
I am who I am
The Closet door is Now opened for all to see
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
Johnny wants to be a soldier. Johnny had a *******
Johnny now is Jenny and The Donald says it's wrong.
Jenny loves her country and she wants to serve and fight.
Trump says she's not worthy and no longer has the right.
Susie was born as a girl but knew she was a guy.
Susie now is Sammy and he only wants to fly.
Went to join the Air Force - Was rejected on the spot.
Knew that he was qualified, but Trump says that he's not.
Trump was born an ignoramus - still is one today.
Never served the military - always got his way.
If you're not the same as him you are the enemy.
You're not worthy if you're poor or a minority.
Started with transgendered, better watch out if you're gay.
Blacks, Hispanics, women, he would love to throw away.
When nobody's left the military will be grim.
Trump will have nobody left who wants to fight for him.
If you're an American and if you long to serve,
better not be different or they'll label you a perv.
If you say you're boy or girl and ready for your chance,
all that matters now is the equipment in your pants!
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 7:40 PM UTC
Every era that has ever been
Has engaged in the auto-dissection
Of their yellowing underbellys.
Yes, every generation has predicted
that the end is nigh,
That god is on their side;
But the devil has a crowbar
And is busting out of the basement.
Each decade is a mimicry of the last.
Different fashions, same trends
And always, with a fool on the hill.
A lonely steel harmonica can pierce the airwaves
Across space and time,
Through the grooves and crackles
To enthral an audience,
And to beguile that every generation
Into believing in their autonomy,
Their solitude,
With a fate independent of all those centuries past.
Through every disembodied spew of Dylan lyrics,
Or the corporeal and common alienation
Sympathised in every Wilde reference,
Comes the same fury at the chaos of a world
That is no more than indifferent at the plight of the people it houses.
Indeed,
Every generation has sought to either
Cure the ills of the Earth;
Or else set lighter fluid to the lot.
This stretches back to the first blood-spattered edition of the Bible,
And further, much further.
To all of the captains,
The heroes,
The anti-heroes,
The road gritter,
The malevolent dictator,
The schoolteacher,
The emancipated woman
And the borderline feminist.
To every young child who is reluctant to take the spotlight,
Or look you in the eye,
Ask questions, or speak out.
For every one of those who at some point were labelled
‘maladjusted’.
And so the Pharaohs and Caesars are all but gone now,
Replaced by the big-wigs,
The fat-cats,
The purple hearted,
The playboys -
The men in suits.
But they are all the same.
The same behind the decadence of
A solid gold sarcophagus
Or an Armani pair of shades.
They all built their empire on shifting sands.
And so we will all kick and scream
To our own tone and our own time
At the indignity of the world.
At our bespoke knowledge
To deal with all inconvenience
But that which privates the preclusion
Of any and all major slaughters of justice.
As for that young child,
With the lack of eye contact -
And all that he will become:
He will sit. And he will type.
He will type until his words fall beyond that
Of the spiralling noises inside his mind
And blossom into something pure and ugly and beautiful.
He will sit and he will write
To forget.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
SHAME!!! SHAME!!! SHAME!!!!
It’s a huge shame on the men who think its their place to strip women naked.
Shamelessly, they quote the bible, “it’s the temple so it should not be displayed”
If that is the case, why didn’t the “believers” who were present take a leso or kikoi to the lady to cover the temple? Instead you strip her???
You are the most sinful of them all and you deserve to have been thrown at the first stone.
SHAME SHAME SHAME!!!
Shame on the men who think that just because you show some skin, you need a touch.
Dressing is done for whatever reason that is personal to a soul.
No dressing is right or wrong.
It’s a shame how ignorance has raided our society and posed as norms and stupid absurd “morals”
How about we pull your trousers down when you sag them to the lowest place your belt can find?
Huh?
SHAME SHAME SHAME!!!
Shame on the men who live in the stone age era of blaming the appearance of women as a push for ***
Why not long for the ones you see on the soaps, or movies or all???
Why not dress your women in whatever you think looks appealing and only you, could strip them when you get home for your own pleasures?
SHAME SHAME SHAME!!!
Shame on the men who have brought women to the level of slavery!
Could this be insecurity making your head full??
Do women now do better than you? Yes!
Do they stand for themselves without you or even better than you? YES!
Do they have a voice? YES!!
So SHAME on you when you let your face be seen on the camera stripping a woman and shamelessly putting your fingers inside her privates.
SHAME on you for stripping a woman her integrity and dignity and letting the whole world know.
Your Education was a Fail!!!
I recommend you go back to school and learn some more.
This is a sign of IDLENESS, DEBAUTCHERY and POSSESED IDEOLOGY of SADISM!!!
Its is DEVILISH!
Who is our society raising?
Fathers or Defilers?
REMEMBER that this person, next time,
This, could be your sister,
Your mother
Or your wife!!
SHAME! SHAME!! SHAME!!!
©TheUnspoken
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
Fall brings the cold.
Where did all the children wander off to?
Better scoop them up quickly,
Before the beasts tear off their skin.
Look now, they’re in the streets.
They have taken up their arms-
Childhood dreams so sweet,
Make for steady shield and firm sword.
But battle has been seen-
Time and time again.
And those beasts- what beasts, with gnashing teeth,
Always they will tear from you that innocence.
Make your feet to move Soldiers of the street,
Soldiers of tomorrow,
Soldiers of potential-
Always they will tear from you that innocence.
Too late now mothers, the children must be left.
We have lost the battle years before-
It now rests upon their youthful backs and shoulders.
Pray to no one, pray for your victory oh soldiers of tomorrow.
March on! Cut down the beasts, like stalks of wheat for harvest.
Give heavy push and hearty pull.
Roar in deafening register-
Take back what no one promised you, what no one promised us.
Take it back, so that our minds may be unchained again.
Oh soldiers of youth, pray to no one.
Oh soldiers of youth, stand strong.
Do not fall, like so many before.
I fear that you may one day crawl from the street to join us,
Privates in our army of defeated,
Crying out with weakened lungs-
"Always they will tear from you that innocence."
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
High heeled inabitions
stamped their want
upon my back...
as she walked all over me,
her toes
stubbing out my *****
like a discarded cigerette...
causing searing pain
giving sincere pleasure.
Eyes bound could not see her
gagged mouth could not taste her
but I could feel her
tap dancing new tattoos
upon my calloused hands...
each graceful step
another movement
in her ballet of belittlement.
How I had begged
to play the lead.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
The last time I was in the room with a ******
flowers speckled my hair,
pink as privates, cloud-white. I considered our honeymoon
and thought about how we loathe
sunshine, but would create our first bed on roses
after I have spent five or more years removing her thorns.
I did not know about clotheslines being used
for more than our damp second skins.
She once described it as a construction zone, being the
property of some government
who does not care if it ruins someone's habitat
to build a brand new home. But I do not know if I can say
the same; a house is your mountain above
all hurt, only you
can jump from the top and make yourself bleed.
There I sat and swung on wooden benches,
my most disturbing thought a wonder of how it could hold
me. The sky was supposedly blue,
just now I cannot remember, colorblind of any
possible plane forming smiling men above our heads.
Sometimes, things are not on the tip of my tongue
but still making their way through my
brain-cells. I wanted to lay down on my stomach for love
be a carpet of hair, unshaven legs, sweat beads
until the clouds showed me handcuffs. My
safe lover, agoraphobic, now I can understand why.
I did not think about blankets being used as
shields, or mattress springs made of barbed wire.
If I had known, I would have eaten
my own hair and thrown up every petal on your doorstep,
their broken flower souls, now warm-blooded.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
It’s 1:21am on a Thursday night and there’s no rain
where there should be.
There’s no weeping over the seven-colored earths
and the erosion of the skin is building up.
I have a mouth full of stumbling words,
nervous and absurd,
like wax flowers and plastic china cups;
bottles of placebos.
I have masks on the walls
and body parts on the floor.
Dim light from violet lampshades painting worlds
with minimal effort, but with profound meanings
that pretentious collegiates speak over bearded elders
while stuck in fishbowl towns, separated from the oceans of
metropolitan beliefs.
*Pulling nail fibers from fingertips with crooked teeth,
a habitual ritual christened from a darker half.
Waves of feral multitude plunging the streets
As riots of people made of fire chant the names of fallen angels
And personified martyrs.*
Episode after episode of plot-thickening exposition,
the weight of which is but a feather to the pull of the moon.
To **** my privates to a saddened resolution that’s
sweeter than a mutual **** for the sake of love.
*Penetrating me with needles as thick as bones,
Brittle as sculpted phalluses made of teeth.
Drilled out from the cavities and clamped iron
that make me grind and ******
In my sleep
out of nightmarish extremity.
Or persistent calamity.*
She’s dead, wrapped in plastic
And fountains are pouring mercury
Profuse silver-stained drooling
Ostracized from sane certainty
*The thunder of guttural bellowing
In the chasm of bed sheets,
where leather bound demons
split ***** hands under ice knifes
Muffled voices
And embryo faces
Tearing out primal smiles
Tied with black laces
In a public amphitheater.*
She’s dead, wrapped in plastic
And fountains are pouring mercury
Second time I’m seeing it drool
With a last moment of certainty.
It’s 1:41 on a Friday morning and there’s rain.
Finally.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
Dear America,
I will like to thank you for a couple of things
that i have noticed for a couple of years
Thanks for destroying humanity
I really want my kids to know that panda bears are from Chinese restaurants
and that Taco Bell originated from Mexico
all Asians know how to handle a Rubik's cube
like the curves on a women.
Thanks for posting these skeletons in magazines that we call models and telling everybody that this what beauty is, so girls can put your fingers down their throats
and guys can juice themselves up
because lets be honest personality doesn't matter, right?
thanks for killing creativity with your genocide
and lynching our education system
because our minds are the like the assembly lines for your standardized testing
if you don’t fill out the right bubbles that means that you are not smart like the rest of us
you see we are robots
if you don't fill out that bubble that you were not programed like rest of us
fill in out that bubble because
that bubble is going to determine if you go to a good college or not.
and remember community college means you are a failure.
Thanks for destroying our free time
Instead of stopping and smelling the roses we stop and take a photos for instagram
instead of going out and meeting new people,
we flash around our privates on the internet like it’s public property
because **** the love I want to get naked right?
because she only needs to loved for that one night?
We don’t have free time because we have to work on
Our Grades
Our Sports
Doing community service
So we can have these perfect resumes
and go to that perfect school
so you can go to that perfect job
and get married to that perfect love of our lives
and have three perfect kids
Retire and wait until your body decays into the earth
at that perfect timing
but wait life isn't perfect right?
Sincerely,
Voiceless Stranger
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
I wake up on my sofa after
Work, knowing she needs
Workman's hands to hold
Hammer and nail at
Points she's chosen for her
Pictures.
A stronger back for heavier
Things, but I'm spent. Work is
War, now. Power drill, pistol.
I bark orders at privates,
Not warnings at young, spiteful
Carpenters
Fresh from school
With too
Much product in their
Hair to want to wear their
Mandatory
Hard hats.
My heart skips beats when I
Lift. I count falling stars
At daytime climbing stairs.
Lie to concerned foremen.
A brain-soul-body Bermuda
Triangle of energies lost.
I have love to last her lifetimes,
Shoulders to rest her weary,
Closed eyes against or dig her
Fingernails into, gasping.
But for now, the ceiling I gaze
Up at stares back down judgingly,
Not recognizing this frowning
Ghost of the mud-covered grin I
Carried a few, short years ago.
The futile clawing and sliding of
A minuscule man climbing a
Colossal statue of himself.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
Embedded in Afghanistan
were the General and the Blonde.
It gets lonely in those mountains
and she was close and warm.
She was his biographer
and he her primal source-
When he offered her "full access"
Her reaction was "of Course".
Their spouses both were far away
in another land and clime
Why not steal a kiss or two
is it really such a crime?
For this betrayal of our trust
Petraeus now must pay.
He placed his privates in command
and now he rues the day.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 12:48 PM UTC
I'm sorry but falling in love with you was the biggest mistake I wish to bury and forget
How can I forgot when you are the first person to get between my thighs
Though we were high.I was too stupid to see
You helded my breath
I was lost in your spell called Lov
*** was the only language you knew. I so think you have phd in it
You treated me like a tool
Though I realized too late that I was a fool
I left my book and changed my looks for you.
Was it worth it?
I remember when you told me I wasn't good enough
Yet you saw the parts that my mom labelled privates
My mom knew it was only a play
Yet your spell told me you will stay
It's true that I was your ride
Our foundation was built in lies
you see I would love to hate you
I just cant for my love is too sufficient for everyone
GOOD bye old friend.
HEART MENDED NOT BROKEN..WRITTEN BY Doreen Kgomo 23.05.16
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
I am America
**** black and white people
We are on our own now
mixed up and left
to seethe
**** you both
I knew you wouldn’t
get it in time
we are the only humans left
in America
how many words have we had together?
***
War?
*** again?
War that is ***
Hatred?
Hatred is the white part
of this country
and psyche
vengeance is black as ****** oil
forgiveness
heritage
love
evolution
historical experience
beauty
awareness
humanities language
a new whiteness
We have tried to teach you
the people you **** into being mixed
insistence
denial
love
you should have snuck knives in your chains!
black women!
you should have killed them during ***
By any means necessary
sorry not reasonable
**** is **** and been white for 400 years
talk about black people ****** white women
**** you whiteness
**** is never okay
but the trauma on black men
is unbearable
what you whiteness expect without
the treatment you give
your own whiteness treatment
**** your misdirected violence
for a buck or two
for a ****
slavery
whiteness communication
with blackness
handcuffs
modified insured slave chains
the same company you keep
cause your lust to **** people
and look away from the whiteness
that still is
I don’t give a ****
we are mixed now without a choice
no turning back
dancing uncontrollably
with our privates out
by choice
not force
our passion
is ****
love
baby slaves
birthing slaves
marriage
children
future
economy
language is not your waste
it is not the excess of whiteness
it is a measure of cooperation
we are more like the rest of the world
than any of your oppressors or oppressed
language
social functions
birthing humans that will destroy
whiteness
that is a joke
wasn’t funny
stop laughing
******* clowns
breathing this mixed race
feels good
even in the most ****** sense of existing
We have to love ******* from the **** of slavery
being mixed
back to simply human
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
i.
no more can you see
into another
than at your age
have a stroke
to mirror
my father’s.
ii.
deep into the assignment of my youth
I was said to be bowing
when in fact
I was dipping
into the thigh
of Jesus
repeatedly
with a brush.
iii.
we haven’t always been godless.
how this persists as comfort
is a vision a fox
has
of illness.
iv.
to fox I apply a certain wakefulness.
v.
my father admits in his bed that some mice are alive when he bends to the earth a cornstalk and lets fly.
he confides of everything he is the most guilty of hate getting him places.
I have to find the mouse that means
other mice.
vi.
(above this plain a woman’s privates thunder / below it
there are those
whose tears
are a newborn’s
thumbs)
vii.
a mare kneeling in a bed of maroon straw
intuits doom as a color as optic
Apocrypha
viii.
subconsciously, I am holy and by holy
I can offer not being seen in the grocery
as my father squints into a handheld
calculator.
ix.
to fox paw
this thorn
from my mother’s
apnea
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
I heard myself reprimanded for childless behavior. I saw myself as two of the same people. my older brother gave me pennies he thought were sleeping pills. we later agreed I thought the same. the funny talk went from my mouth into god only knows. strangers begged me to repeat myself but not a one could tell me what I’d said. those far to me sent word, or meant to. my sister showed up out of the blue but stayed just long enough to send her privates into hiding. my mother and father promised to punish me for no reason. I began to love them for giving me a son. I began by telling them I was in some trouble.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
Did it begin rain
In seashore?
Weaving web
With strands of rain
Waiting for prey?
Does it remind
The lassie of first love
When we parted
On a rainy day?
Is the strumpets
Stripped their ******
Licks the scratchy privates
Of the world?
Do they protect
The vicious world?
The rain
Flows thro' satellite veins
Fluttered,churned.
Thinking of
Music of rain
Felt the nausea of the
Great ages left?
Rain in the seashore?
Who knows?
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
sensual subtlety or the subtlety of sensuality
(HOW does size matter?)
<•>
*as always the title comes first,
embalming the mind so it may voyage onto unwritten waters,
over boundaries so the provocateur provoked may safely return,
avoiding evoking anti-frieze cannonade fire
some can disable with swinging fist,
a chopping arm on an exposed neck,
a swift kick to the semi-privates
but I can do same, inflicting immobilization
with a single solitary itty bitty
pinky figuring finger
no random boast, no hoax, not chest beating,
just a fact ma’am, nothing but the facts
the sensual subtlety of the delicate
is overpowering and irresistible
making grownups revert
into laughing crying out loud babies
the subtlety of sensuality pink’d exploding exploration,
the intoxicating tiny tingling subtle and without equal,
kingdoms have fallen, paintings and poems, art all kinds,
instigated and in eye sockets permanently inserted,
history redirected
know I will no be telling details,
the whose and where,
the why and surely not the
how, not here anyway
so when you tell me in raw fashion
size matters most definitely
in the matters of the heart
or the physicality
whole heartedly agree
waving my littlest pinky finger
watching you wavering
until you’ve learned the lesson
it’s the how*
not the how big
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
am I not conforming yet?
am I finally an outcast
can you please let me out of whiteness
did I offend it too much to be accepted anymore
is my demand for humanity contagious
are you scared of it spreading yet
why are you still listening
to the voice in your mind that is reading?
confused
angry
desperate
you should have killed all the others
you should have been more strict
more brutal with your laws
the fees and fines should have been much much bigger
we should have only been 2 fifths of a vote
if whiteness wanted to succeed
whiteness should have been more violent with its punishment
more relentless
unforgiving with its shaping of humanity
It should have been more incestuous
whiteness should have kept its privates in its pants
if whiteness wanted too survive
it should have fought harder
Whiteness should have kept its language secret
It should have invested in privacy and security and insurance even more
if whiteness wanted to survive
but if whiteness wanted to dissipate and fail
its doing perfect
Otherwise whiteness would have blotted out the sun
whiteness would have made tanning cream illegal a long time ago
and the penalty would have been much harsher than voluntary manslaughter
if whiteness were to be able to take over
forever
whiteness needs to get over the fact that it is not real
to put a halt to its construction
and to stop making excuses that are similes to genocide
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 6:07 PM UTC