"procreate" poems
I will tell you a story
In all its glory
Explaining the
****** *****
Creating much more than
The eye can see
Its a story about a vibrant flower
So beautiful it needs to be to attract the buzzing honey bees
The story goes some thing like this
So you can see the flowers multiply through the years
Make two
Four and many more
The bee
flys along and sees so many Beautiful flowers
Longing to devour
But which one
So many colours
Shapes
Sizes
Flowers cascading
Parading
So shameless
Stands still
Wow
Striking
Its a big bright pink one
Circular in shape
Bold
Beautiful
Its the one
Open, with so many soft small petals
Glistening with the rain drops
Shining in the sun
Sparkling with beauty from within
Makes the bee meander to thee
The bee needs to reproduce
Suduced
Stops and fills
Spreads the seeds
Allowed to please
Pollunates
Impregnates
Recreates
What you dont see is the story
Combined with the
True glory
Of the extra ordinary *****
The beauty
Of the buzzing bee
Combined
With the gold assigned
Inside
So free
Flying
Trying
Frantically to find the
The hive
Taking nectar
Making honey, wax, all kind of f
Fascinating lines
Made from hexagon
They divide into the lines
They are full with precious delights
The story continues
The more you learn
The more you yearn
To see a honey bee
Together the bee and the ****** *****
make harmony
The vibrant flower allowed to duplicate
More beauty for all to see
For all to feel
The special honey bee procreate and makes
Wax
creating ambiance
Such a clever bee
A savont; such a worker
Magical tyrant
Buzzing madly yearning to create
the sweetest honey
A honey bee can make
Its like you to me
You're the combination
Make migrations in me
Spreading beauty from within
To others to proceed
And begin
I feel it with you;
Vibrant flower
Honey bee
Coming together
Creating so much sweet honey in me
It's a wonderful story to me
You see
The story of the flower and the honey bee
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
Psychedelic scenery
Elicit blithe resolutions
Television
Brilliant channels
Procreate felicity
Evolution
Crescendos
Ameliorate composure
Termination
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:39 PM UTC
To all it may concern: straight people
Dear straight parents,
Thank you,
For making us gays,
And then making us feel like **** for being created,
But hey, you created us.
Dear straight people,
Shut your **** mouth.
We don't care.
Your words aren't going to change us,
No protest signs are gonna change us,
Only God can,
And that isn't an excuse to try and pray the gay away.
Dear straight men,
If a girl likes another girl,
They are not your ****** play toy.
Remove those perverted thoughts from your head,
And learn to control your *****
Dear straight men,
If a boy likes another boy,
And they don't like you,
Then keep your mouth shut.
If you don't like it,
Then don't be gay.
It doesn't concern you,
And it's none of your ******* business.
Dear straight women,
Just because a girl likes another girl,
Does not make her a ****
Or a *****
Or a *****
But who knows she may be.
But since you're making assumptions like that,
You're probably one of the before mentioned.
Dear straight women,
Ahem "straight",
Go away.
Quit flirting with us,
Because it's annoying and confusing.
Figure out what you want
And try again later.
Dear straight ally's,
Thank you.
You need to procreate,
And make more of you,
Because the world seems to be full of
********
And biggots.
Dear straight people,
You don't have to like us,
But hating us,
And bashing us,
Isn't gonna make us suddenly go away,
Or quit being gay.
Go back to your prayers that the gays will come to realize if you want,
But I think there are bigger problems in the world
That you need to be concerned with
More than a girl liking *****
Sincerely,
One who is both a straight and a gay.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC
Check back soon to resume and consume
every tight-lipped, slack-jawed fool in the room.
See, it's all what you know
as the fires start to grow
and the future burns slow.
Keep your eyes on the ceiling,
and your antenna feelers feelin',
for when your senses stop reeling,
you will finally start believing.
Kick-back to the basics,
not too far from the basement,
and close enough to show
that **** really isn't basic.
It's another mid-west, ******
******** freak show.
Another evening drinking whiskey
with the seedling's peep-show.
So, it's time to relax and relapse
into acidified broken synapse.
The lights keep flickering
and the couples keep bickering:
***** I am not above homicidal snickering.”
I steer clear of these diversions,
and wander past the sermons,
just to chew up all the crooked talk
and spittle out inversions.
I shovel mockery to hypocrisy,
pin-prick the empty *****
whose passions lack predicates,
and in the background, I'll be complexifying my medic-kit:
ketamine, morphine, ecstasy;
marijuana, mushrooms, LSD.
Watch those ******* jitter-bug college *****
procreate while sloppy drunk,
but keep an honest eye
on the flies that will rise above –
then fall back down in existential angst, like:
“Dear God, why must I be free?
Oh, God! Why is every universal eye on me?
I'm just another acid war veteran,
sneakin' through these gutters
with pestilence and bitter sin.
When they reach the promised land
of golden clouds and holding hands,
I'll be underground with the slugs and the spider band.”
Yet here I sit, sick of sippin' poisons with illiterates.
So, let the skies fall and the buildings crash,
as you stand on the wall with a fist full of cash.
I'll be on the front lawn,
picketing for dawn,
while the night around me slowly ambles on.
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC
You're Selfish.
Sometimes I can't stand you.
I want to rip my hair out the minute you speak.
I want to throw a can of green beans at you
in hopes of breaking your toe.
Is that mean?
Although I know you have trouble with things from the past
What about my issues with the things I can't quite grasp?
My ****** is broken!
I'm sorry I can't care as much about your past as i used to.
Our hypothetical children are all I can think of.
If we can't procreate how do I go on?
That hole in my chest..
You know, the one they call a heart..
It needs that bond.
The one formed between a mother and child.
But still... sometimes I can't stand you!!
How do we make children if we can't even get along?
This would be easier if I didn't love you so much.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
The Mockery of Fairyland
In silence watching, as fellow, fallow fairies dance,
Sylphs float above while gnomes furrow,
Donating water brothers.
Undine.
Spiritual creatures, unseen.
Creation of nature from nature.
Mankind evading.
Those fairies will still catch your eye,
In form of genus butterfly.
God forbid you meet them.
Stumble on their fairy rings.
You should never ever tell a fairy your name.
For in fairyland you may remain.
For safety's sake.
While you're out walking in the woods.
Inside out, you must wear your shirt,
Wear a ring of of iron!
So you can breach the fairies curse.
For in seven year cycles.
Fairies must donate to hell.
A good soul,Tam Hin.
Because he tricked the fairy queen.
She had to set him free.
Ti's said.
As man folk mate.
Fairies do true procreate.
In a way akin to ours!
Hybrid fairies once existed.
They were such melancholy souls.
Far too sad to live in fairyland.
Too fairy like to live on earth!
Titania she still sits waiting patiently.
For her Oberon to arrive.
King and queen of fairyland, in literacy.
Supreme?
No Fallacy!
By ladylivvi1
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
Swan Lake
Crystal clear lagoon
Slow glide and procreate
The serene placidity humm
Last Song
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
Notes on your window
So subtly appear
As though they came from thin air
No rhyme, but reason
A familiar flick of the e's in everything
Glimpse of hope
A handwriting technique you know well
Smeared ink against the fibers
Calling out for one last message
They seem to procreate every few weeks
A simple one
Minimalistic hopes of something
Nothing more to lose
Just a note on your window
Signed by a smeared "O"
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
To all it may concern: straight people
Dear straight parents,
Thank you,
For making us gays,
And then making us feel like **** for being created,
But hey, you created us.
Dear straight people,
Shut your **** mouth.
We don't care.
Your words aren't going to change us,
No protest signs are gonna change us,
Only God can,
And that isn't an excuse to try and pray the gay away.
Dear straight men,
If a girl likes another girl,
They are not your ****** play toy.
Remove those perverted thoughts from your head,
And learn to control your *****
Dear straight men,
If a boy likes another boy,
And they don't like you,
Then keep your mouth shut.
If you don't like it,
Then don't be gay.
It doesn't concern you,
And it's none of your ******* business.
Dear straight women,
Just because a girl likes another girl,
Does not make her a ****
Or a *****
Or a *****
But who knows she may be.
But since you're making assumptions like that,
You're probably one of the before mentioned.
Dear straight women,
Ahem "straight",
Go away.
Quit flirting with us,
Because it's annoying and confusing.
Figure out what you want
And try again later.
Dear straight ally's,
Thank you.
You need to procreate,
And make more of you,
Because the world seems to be full of
********
And biggots.
Dear straight people,
You don't have to like us,
But hating us,
And bashing us,
Isn't gonna make us suddenly go away,
Or quit being gay.
Go back to your prayers that the gays will come to realize if you want,
But I think there are bigger problems in the world
That you need to be concerned with
More than a girl liking *****
Sincerely,
One who is both a straight and a gay.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
At your feet I worship thee
Intertwine intellectually
Tantric connect spiritually
Achieving synchronicity
Set aflame I start to glow
Tap the passion in your soul
Expanding spirit starts to grow
Swimming in ya Goddess flow
Feed me pleasure filled with fun
Burns me up till I ***
Sweat all over starts to run
Feeling like I'm never done
Illuminate as I penetrate
Plant a seed...Thoughts procreate
Transform all thee hate
Satisfy as I devastate
Love me help me overcome
Beams of Moon..Rays of Sun
Inspirational waters run
Worship till we become one..
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Only for you! It’s true! These eccentric-poetic and theoretic views! As we breakthrough those blues, those clues, the dues and the hues. I will wait, I will wait. Awaiting, through the chills the pills, the shrills and thrills! I will wait, I will wait. Waiting through the beers, the cheers, the fears, leers, peers and tears! Awaiting through the dreary and weary...
Through the lonely and phony years... Waiting through the erratic and sporadic. The drastic, elastic and fantastic! I will wait, I will wait. As rotting bait! I will wait, I will wait. Awaiting the date the debate, the fate and the weight. Waiting to articulate and procreate! Fascinating this procrastinating! However, I will endeavor and wait,
I will wait and wait.
Horary! Awaiting I say for our hour of power. Waiting for this blissfully and wishfully day that our disgraced, misplaced ways may physically brace with embrace, grace and trace! I wait and I wait. People wonder why I blunder in ponder? You’re like the flu doesn’t that bother you? Answer, father figure I never knew? Still I will wait,
I will wait, I will wait for you…
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:57 PM UTC
Profound profanity, he says, is the key to germination.
But why, I say, would one ever want to procreate?
For the experience, he says, which is about the journey and not the destination.
I can understand this,
it's like riding a bike
a stationary bike
that goes nowhere but see, you're going! Going and going.
I do see
and so does he
so what do we do?
Not a whole lot, just sit and talk of trains and temperature and how pirates walk.
He likes to do litmus tests of our saliva and hang them in the windows for all to see
that we are not acidic, but on acid, and sometimes a bit base in nature,
like the trees and the crysanthimums and corinthian columns in Greece.
We traveled to Greece, once, on our stationary bike
it was beautiful and real and there was much salt in the air-
they grow olives and fish in the trees
and their water is just teeming with rust.
We put our rust on buttered toast like cinnamon and munched at the oxidized metal,
crunching like captains and cheesin like goats
just a random bunch of fools with our silver and tenticals and suction cups of steel.
We are like robots, fighting crime and boredom with music and shrugs
because frankly my dear we don't give a ram or an aries or any other kind of anything.
We simply do not
because we will not, and refuse, above all else, to sleep without a star in the sky.
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
when I go
it will be
impossibly late
and I’ll leave you
not multi-talented bars
or pairs of randy ingots
itching to procreate
in a splendid explosion
of golden delight
what I’ll leave you is
a stale-air larder
filled just this once
by dully packaged thoughts
and duller feelings
when I have them
they could only couple
if enlivened with musical prodding
or the sigh effecting benefits
from hands full of mood-altering
pharmaceuticals
so please yourself instead
and don’t
put them to any use
bury them deep
better yet
pile them high on Pyrrhic pyres
where the gathering scorch will send
down leaden puddles
while precious platinum curls rise
up to trickle trickster tears
my greatest possible reward
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 8:54 AM UTC
In fifth grade
They shuttle boys and girls
Into separate rooms.
This is when they try (and fail)
To teach you
About ***
Without teaching you
About having ***
After four years of
Abstinence based courses
Featuring cis straight people
And only
Cis straight people
I learned nothing
About how cis straight people
Have ***
After four years of
Shady diagrams of vaginas
That look 0% like vaginas
And do not mention anything
About the ********
I learned nothing
About what's actually between
My legs
After four years of
Hearing the words
"STDs"
"Pregnancy"
I learned nothing
About contraception.
After four more years of
Having the same
********
Spat at me
I will not learn anything
Because the words
"Don't have ***
Don't teach me anything.
And being able to say
That every honest thing
That I learned about ***
I learned from ****
Isn't something
I'm proud of.
In real life
They shuttle boys and girls
Into the same room
And tell you to procreate
After a decade of being told
That *** is bad.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
You and I
You
And
I
- I
Could drown myself in melted polar ice caps, or illusions of Niagara Falls (or does it?)
Could join a nudist colony
Could dismember my body parts 'recreationally'
Could (or will) document my own downward spiral/lay eggs in vast and immeasurable labyrinths/where the paradox of my self-pity mingles with my bragging/swaggering teen angst and date!-mate!-procreate!- into a thousand descendants of my rotting fleshhhhhh
- You
Present yourself in -
Hallways rambling in front of me with asylums spilling into corridors of confusion
Rrrrrrriiipppp of either paper pulling from notebooks or flesh pulling from bone
Virtual college applications tabbed over with two different Buy Your Own Russian Wife! websites and ignored by your -loving parents-
An arrogant 18-year-old boy standing before the Committee of Elders (pleading insanity)
Twenty-four permanent markers with generic names
The pseudo-poetic lure of "Call ___ For a GOOD TIME" graffitis on the bathroom wall of a Whole Foods you spend six weeks jacking off in
- Look, that's great and all, but
I think you are a (beanstalk), no time to (talk), less of a (walk) and more of a climb - to reach your face, and when I lean to kiss it (fee fi fo fum) I smell the blood of a human one
(I'm tired of stooping and I'm tired of looking at old people)
You
And
I
Could have Been Anyone!
But no,
Just more of the same.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
epitomize
and optimize
imitate
and recalibrate
streamline
and recombine
the evolutionary "line"
fireflies
and theorize
circulate
and gyrate
guideline
and divine
the galaxy and the stars
moonrise
and clockwise
death rate
and procreate
sunshine
and lifeline
laws of nature are defined
maximize
and re-size
penetrate
and migrate
bloodline
and decline
the story of our world
allies
and despise
prostate
and dictate
enshrine
and benign
generations throughout time
endings
and beginnings
losing
and winnings
and everything
in between
is what we find
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 4:44 PM UTC
Humans are animals.
We believe we are the superior species,
But we are equal, equally animals
Both crave companionship.
Both need to procreate.
Even human specific characteristics
Are that of all animals.
Love is not related to only our species.
It resides in all living creatures
Even if we deny it scientifically.
And that is why it is beautiful.
It is not rare, like we want it to be.
It is not defining, like we hope it to be.
It is not individualistic; it is normal.
And that is why it is beautiful.
So often we believe that beauty comes from
The different, the exotic, the rare.
But it resides in our most basic human make-up,
Our genetics.
And that is why it is beautiful - it is everywhere.
So why, as humans, do we crave to be unique
from other animals?
We are the same.
We are all beautiful.
We all love.
We are animals.
Embrace it.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
When I was nineteen
I learned to procreate.
Sparks were flying and fears were moving and hearts were beating and hands were racing and bodies were sweating and hormones were raging. We were wrapped up tight in your Target sheets, gasping for each breath as if our end we would meet. Our eyes averted. We were so nervous. This new act of pleasure drove us deeper and deeper. We hoped we would stay, we hoped and we prayed and we loved until that day.
I said no more. You cursed and slammed the door. This wasn't for us, I couldn't take it. I wasn't tough.
You begged and pleaded to be forgiven. I was done pleasing and was ready to listen to reason.
That day was the last and I said I ain't coming back. You kept pulling me down so I said **** it and I turned around.
Around to my other guy, because I wasn't happy with the one by my side. To my back up beau waiting for me after school. He was there on the long nights as I wiped my tears from saying my goodbyes. He held my hand and listened to my plan of the two of us finally making it after two years of struggling and suffocating in our relationships, our individual emotional abyss. This was our time, our time to shine. Time to let go and be happy and be free and be who we wanted to be. All I needed was him and all he needed was me.
But that crashed and burned.
What we thought was forever was only a game. Heartstrings were pulled and heartache was made. Disaster full on. Before I knew it he was gone. Two years of my life were erased just like that, like a single mistake where all you had to do was backspace. I cried my eyes out and I banged my head and I avoided you and I wished I was dead. I gave you my heart on that very first day and you kept it for two years and then you threw it away.
Twenty one today and I've come a long way from the girl that cried over broken hearts and broken minds. I'm strong and it's true, I love someone, I do but it's in a different way because today's another day. I don't have to live worrying about what ifs and the past. It's gone and it's over and I'm thankful for that. You both made me cry, my arms up to the sky pleading and begging for something so dear, but how did I know I would find it right here? Now I've got my heart together and I wear it on my sleeve, proud but protected from any would-be's. I'm happy and I'm healthy and I feel joy and I want to sing. This life I am living, I can't imagine any other thing.
September 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
imposed by DNA
by nature striving to
reproduce full frontal ******
scenes with wolves
killing baby deer
harmony with brutal
forces driving tsunami
waves in shores onto bathers unprepared
schemes of hawks
killing doves
distrust the self
for the next breath
if snatched away cannot be recovered
look wise sideways
out of the corner
of eyes
always, procreate into
believing its all meaning
something, DNA winds into
helical coils as do typhoons,
as does the cynical
idealism
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:31 AM UTC
Ignorance is bliss.. or so they say,
But spouting off your ignorance? Now that is not okay.
Keep your stupid bliss, wrongful diss, for you, I'll make a wish,
I'll wish and pray, you stop the hate, and plead you do not procreate.
Open your eyes and your mind, yours is like a box.
In due time, you'll realize, you're as dumb as rocks
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
Daylight fades too quickly
and leaves you struggling like a dead fish
against a time limit you have no intention
of keeping or realizing, in even a small fashion.
The money runs out.
The money always runs out and
everyone is looking for a handout
no one wants to give.
Especially those who can afford it-
it's like a void;
a golden density not even light can escape.
Makes me wonder; "Is the money really power,
or is power just power,
and the hierarchy and patriarchy and system
just keep whatever stains in place, despite their incompetence?"
History seems to provide ample answers to the right questions;
Why does the day feel so short?
Why does retail labor feel like a pyramid scheme?
Why does work feel like prison?
Why are employers so scared of unions?
Whatever, right? Those ******* would give you an answer
after three separate commercial breaks and a survey.
Everyone views the person under their foot as less than human.
It's how we're able to procreate and sleep at night
[a night that comes quicker every day now].
A curtain over a birdcage; we're all just dozing off.
******* around.
Studying everyone else's face,
looking for a nervous twitch to decipher
whose bluffing,
believing we're doing swimmingly in our own ********
The next generation built on our corpses, secrets and lies.
Corpses, secrets, and lies.
Let the world burn if we can make it past daylight.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Sub-zero temperatures aren't conducive to photosynthesis
chlorophyll stuck in veins
freezing and thick, viscous
right-o
tips **** and ****
try to circulate nutrients
but nature cannot be altered
facts cannot be opinionated
tell that to the judge
small claims and chain gangs
game changing fame slanger
falling to the feet of the tall
once and for all
can't just sit and wait
procreate
at least **********
when all else fails
and it will
at least there are the simple pleasures
of air and light and sound
all around
and heightend senses of reality
and *******
and laughs, smiles
miles and miles
swimming in confusion
just want a touch
isn't too much
for a night on the town
lost, never found
alone in the dark
with another
not too long
just too right.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 1:13 AM UTC
You are Irish. So am I. The Kennedys are, and so is half of ******* America.
We aren't special, you aren't unique, so put down your Guinness you freak.
I hate people being so proud of a land they have never been.
Our freckles and our hair and skin is the color of ham.
You act like the Irish invented beer
and are proud that the Celtic women have a big mule rear .
Our ancestors had to escape such a ****** forsaken place.
and you act like god chose you to procreate some master race.
I know that your family and mine spent years in mud.
Dirtier than swine, just to feed your family a diseased spud.
Our pink grandparents came here, and put down every other race that didn't match their rosy face.
So go find a leprechaun with a *** o' luck.
Don't raise a drink to our ancestry, because I don't give a ****
Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 10:17 PM UTC