"quicky" poems
One sinister thought
An angels grin
lips brush against her neck
Tears run down her chin
Warm breath on her skin
His whispers fill her ear
Her body listening in
her fingernails dig deep
sharp scratches, pierce his skin
moans escaping her mouth, wet lips against bare skin
Juices flowing sensations set in
As his deep ****** cave her world in
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
I could tell you of a story, of this flower that I saw.
Growing in a little crack, this flower had it all.
It's beauty got me thinking, how ****** we forget.
It isn't where we come from, it's that we never quit.
The struggles that this flower faced, no quiver nor a fall.
It rose above the chances,
through this crack that was so small.
The only will was life, and the chance that it may "be".
Exist in ways intended, and truly live as free.
This dandelions beauty, gives me the strength to know,
content with where I'm rooted,
and will to always grow.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 10:38 AM UTC
Gwuts on gwanilliagax
Ready hot gwip
Trill on the vibrant note gabeeboh
What a thril it is to be in nice gazeebo
What a punk that doused on the free zobe
What punctillious panagax that frigged all the wets out
And when the trip to the sausage make didnt pull down alaz
Alaz, I am the wet tug.
Alaz, the sprig of wheat ***** taint.
Didn't you say you loved me?
Well, the bruts on the wagon sauce now
Didn't me have a big one, tug one, sauce one?
Well elemayo gwit gwits gwit gwits gwit gwit.....gwit
Embryo collecting on the branch of a saggy
My baggy be ripped, dripped all the can out
Me step on a puddle, the wet one, the biggy
My pets on the leg, rub, all on it sticky, how ******
He chugs out a wet belch and creams on the gricky
How quaint is his fat bristle comb, of his **** I am assured
This great honkulous tank sub that brits on my dimbo,in limbo my ship
It greats on the grates treat me to a sub snack ship ***** ***** factory get e
Tag me on your webpage, then **** me silly
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
our skyline is hazed
and our system a maze
the streets are lined with
blood
and all you see is mud
you, political giants
billionaires in chairs
pretending like you care
when all you do is claim its "fair"
your lying to the poor
as they die on their kitchen floors
you are not above humanity
even in your mighty vacation house its insanity
who are you to say
that you are to pave the way:
you claim democracy
we see hippocracy
you cheat the poor
to get rich more
is it so hard for empathy
you arn't charged with a felony
your racism defines you
*yet somehow they defy you*
maybe as you bomb their land
and say you are here to save their band
look here, ****** can't you see
nothing is simply what i seems to be
how can you see fault in
when you can't even see past the color of skin
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
*** is a divine act.
Done right, it is beautiful and wondrous.
The intimacy between two people.
Knowing each other so fully.
Exploring every detail of each others bodies.
Enjoying each others bodies.
Giving yourself completely to each other.
Receiving and giving pure pleasure.
Whether it's long and slow
With plenty of foreplay.
Or an intense ******
Full of fun and excitement.
*** is sensual
Beautiful
Fun
Intense.
*** makes me happy
(It's scientific - endorphins)
Human contact is beautiful.
Skin on skin.
Touch... Kiss... Stroke... Lick
Wrapped around each other.
One inside the other.
And the ******
The only thing powerful enough to stop the divine act of ***
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
Ephemeral euphoria
and abandoned memories.
These stains on my paper will
explain a lot more than my
poems ever will.
Left alone in the midst of this
troubled mind where once everything
swayed to the rhythm of my heart beat.
The tear sits at the corner of the eye wanting to roll down the cheek.
But how menacing would it be
if it rolled down ? I would be called a weak
hearted sensitive human.
Understanding my poor heart's misery isn't something that I could accomplish over the years.
Knives in my back and unexplained reasons for departure have nearly suffocated my existence.
How easy is it for somebody to just leave you behind after building up your castle of dreams brick by brick? How easy is it for your own people to bail on you? Living in uncertainties I have always learnt to sacrifice my happiness thinking that something better would come along. But all that comes along is disappointment. A sense of satisfaction is what I am lacking at this point and I don't know if my heart would ever be satisfied after all that it has been through. My life's like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle where pieces simply don't seem to fit. Why is it that the blame is always on me for everything I do ? Yes, I get attached ****** Yes, my heart falls too hard. Yes, my heart feels too much. Yes, I am emotional. It's not something in my hands. Stop asking me to change myself. There's nothing wrong with having a deep heart. There will be times when the pain would be immense but you have to live through it. Betrayals will find their way through and happiness will be taken away.
But you have to face it.
I honestly don't know how to create my own happiness because I tend to find my happiness in others. But nobody remains constant. People leave. People change. Some bring in delectation and some bring in agony and it depends on us how we take it. We have to learn to let few things go. I still haven't reached that stage or maybe that maturity where I'll be able to accept things and learn to adjust. But I surely know everything heals. The cuts heal but the scars remain which remind me of the battles I have been in and tell me how strong I am to embrace the pain and **** my misery.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 1:14 AM UTC
The piller and the doughnut, two treacheous thingies. Steering through the ooze of the sugar deep. Do me ****** business on the veins of malicious music.
Come unto these brown earth,
trading temple secrets and sweet lies.
Sea serpents hourly weeps upon dastardly islands.
Three nights you came,
with such nuptial purpose and local gabbage.
Thine reluctance retire not.
Pardon shall you draw from the grand liquor that hath reached your lips.
I shall not fear clapping oracles.
This is strange Romans 13 vs.13 maze men trod.
Nature shall be shortly single for particular accidents.
Beyound a common joy and glad Father,
i button-press this beauteous acquaintance.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
American Haiku (6-6-6)
--A creation of my Brother, "Phoenix"--
I linger in your world.
Long enough to see it...
That love is not a hoax.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 2:38 PM UTC
This..
.the coup de grace
The kiss my *** goodbye.
And thus I die to lay among the graves.
Is is not true that Jesus saves?
Am I forever bound to the underground?
Does it really sound..
..as if I care?
So **** me if you will..
..and fill me with a shot of lead.
I have fed too often on the bones..
..of this day and of yesterday..
..and am ready now to lay and sleep.
Let me still my dreams
Spill my pen of ink.
Link into the great unknown.
Loan me a cloak
Let me soak in formaldehyde..
..these are the death that we have spied upon.
The great one comes
I hear the approach..
..the sounds of drums rupture my ears.
I am fearful of those long..long years and yet..
..how ****** I forget the life..and these fears are replaced..
As I race into another dawn.
Where I am reborn.
Once more I die
To wake and see another daybreak
One more blue sky
And wonder why my dreams are always..
..the same.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
good enough kramer talks
surrender thought volvo maniac
sniffing sound righteous ******
empty flask google doppio's
maternal cup dummy brand
fenix ghetto spy force
renovate ****** wall mart
resonance water croquet bug
material overture kiss A4-paper
rover many people bag
shut fine coffee power
justice cloth measly rent
communal broth pixel time
went minimum swag beautify
agenda question sweet march
improvement mayhem make swivel
waste croneys quiet myriad
composition tommy beat hometeam
cement mother merit fence
wanton founding four swing
jetfuel matchless assignment queen
stansford mediocre serious cat
innuendo phone insult ball
mental song quenching treat
indiginous mate patron verily
putrid how moat minimum
meaning penitentiary sliver anything
black flow rivet leech
****** magazine prada hand
colony policy randy coinage
sovereign christ kingdoms manly
mentions quit quill before
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 5:26 AM UTC
i like wool, and tidying it,
notice the flecks and textures,
sneezing once again at the mohair,
with no news, no more
of sahara dust, move on
to admire couture of the linen dress,
the bias cut, and tucking, quite a feat
in these days of mass produced.
the duchess wore a coat like no other,
my daughter says it makes no sense
these days, when all others just
grab clothes ****** and get to work.
we reckon her mother in law’s brooch
will be sewn on preventing loss.
we all experience this in some way,
loss that is, not the queen’s jewellery.
i like a working day
sbm.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Did it feel good?
Did it feel right,
Getting your rocks off one
***** at a time?
Was it wet and tight?
Did it taste divine?
Did you writhe with delight?
Did she scream your name,
or take it in the ****
Did she tell you how good you felt
when you were deep in her gut?
Were you so proud of yourself
and what was done?
Was it so fun?
Was she so hot?
Did you feel like a real man,
or have you forgot?
Was it fast or slow?
Did you take her from the front or back door?
Did you *** so hard it made you high?
Did it hurt falling from cloud nine?
Was it sweet and salty?
Was it a ****** or did you last forty?
Always so *****
A man with all his glory.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
It's often the weak
And seemingly frail
That find themselves thirsty
Beyond the pale
The gutters churn under the strain
Blood rushes down through city veins
The streets ablaze with tinted moonlight
Devoid of any flame
As gods and heathens burn the same
The hearts all pumping without aim
No lungs to fill, and yet still choking
On the meat we flay
The needle drops
The records play
Everyone stops
Praying that the day might break
My iron rusted
Hinges combust, dusk bled
Swung open portal
Stifling chortle I open up
Progressing slowly
In soul or sprit
But running fast and flowing
Over strewn corpse cobbles
Harbinger paver, larder baubles
Stocking lye
Stalking eyes, new crime
Commit to the violence or ****** die
Perish inside then out
It's no use gasping or
Grasping
Stranger clout
Each new version a variant curse
Every cursed being awaiting rebirth
New age swift death
My time is little, I have **** all left
Gliding abreast
The beast glisten already
Peeter out slice and grip
My jowls are aglow
Siphoning light from the sky above
The creatures of the dark sky rip
Beneath my leather
Each new stab a death blow
I feast
**** them all
I rip out their ******* guts
And mash them
Flesh blood and bone complete
Cycles though my very being
Tearing rending breaking
Everything
**** these dogs
The heart of the city
A drum
Plucking tendon
Plucky young thing
My weapon is serrated
My steel is ****** already
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:42 AM UTC
Here we are,
Swimming afar from Great White Sharks
Cooling with chill manatees from Mars.
School Break has been pleasant and it has been unfortunate as a peasant
Tenth grade is all over so what will tumble to cover when the eleventh is to hover?
I am fazed to predict the outcome.
My mom is long gone
And it appears that all is lost
What shall I regain in place of this unpresent ghost?
Never realized
The ultimate surprise
Could suppress me.
Never knew I could be so encouraged
When the terrain gets tough
I am stable to be.
Time surpasses on the clock ticky ******
I remain tucked in my snuggly bed at night
Pondering,
On the thought of how it all came to flash before my eyes in a heartbeat.
Last December
What a chilly, lonesome snowed forest
Current in July
What a hilly, hotsome blown storage
Abstracted memories,
Not a topic listed in my book.
Passages of temporaries,
Fish back to my hook.
What is to uprise
What is to dubb nice
What is to enlarge size
In this life?
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
now that you'd had the vote for
a hundred years what have u
accomplished by voting for the dog
catcher; now that u can determine
the direction of the ship of state
in the UK & the USA drink up,
ladies, it's ur tab, it's all on u;
urchin match girls & orphans
begging in the street; twelve year
turned out to put food on the table
where there is bread & only cheap
wine but those little girls ******
get the hang of turning tricks when
it's a beating they go home to for
good or ill; mama threw the baby
out w/ the bathwater & the kid hit
me in the head; I sold it on Fifth
Avenue & now she's a doyen who
doesn't want her past talked about;
she's a suffragette & her husband is
a ***** & they throw lavish parties
beneath crystal chandeliers inviting
the leading lights of literature & art;
science & philosophy speaking so
erudite only known to themselves
that they were once of the streets;
surviving life in the ghetto & rising
u from the gutter, leaving the filthy
city behind for countryside estates;
now she's a suffragette married w/
blue blood in her children's veins
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 2:26 AM UTC
It was a beautiful day today
So i took a wallk
in the woods i spent my childhood
And much of my twenties exploring
I gave up on the woods ten years ago
When i gave up hunting
Today i went hunting for memories
With a pen and paper
...
I cannot say that my hearing
And eyesight are better today
I can say that i heard and saw more
Such as the purple flowers in the undergrowth
Years ago i would have returned
With grand tales
Today i returned
With a short story
Today i was tired and breathless
From the hike up the hill
Sweating profusely
And coughing forcefully
II could however blame that
On a chest cold
Rather than my sixteen year
Pack a day habit
The trail is not exactly the same
But much is the same
And it does still go by
Many fond memories
The deerstand from which
I shot my first deer with a bow & arrow
23 years ago still stands
However the ladder has curiously moved
Again there was a deer
Under the same stand
And i could not imagine
Ever shooting the deer today
Today the trail takes a more gentle
Climb to the top where i went
Looking for the tree under which
I made love to my high school sweetheart
At first i thought it was gone
But then i found it
Right where we left it
The tree that has not changed
I remembered Laying out a blanket
But soon realized that was not the truth
She was not a sweetheart
And we were not making love
As with much of my youth
i was guided by lust
Rather than by love
Or respect for anything
I would have done almost anything
To get rid of that memory
Fifteen years ago
while today i cherish it
My foul mouth has not changed
Proven when i said "holy ****
after nearly stepping on a turkey
Startling me as much as the bird
I stopped to check out the shale pit
I used to spend hours there
Scouring for fossil remains
Of plants and animals
I never found anything
But that didn't stop me from looking
Today i picked up one lump of shale
Looked it over and laughed
A pair of squirrels did not think
It was so funny
****** scurrying up a tree
And barking at me in unison
I guss the biggest impression i got
Was how much the woods
Has not changed
While much of me has
All the changes
may not be for better
But not all
For worse either
I shouldn't have given up on the woods
and i have been given several chances
So i am going to give the woods
Another chance as well
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
here's a ****** because I have to go.
What if life is full a fate?
Waiting for us to cross the gate?
To meet a stranger
someone new.
To Trip and fall
and feel askew.
just to make us a better
"me"
to make us feel invincibility.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
you want me to put out a cigarette out
inside your eye?
let's face it: tears don't come cheap...
sometimes you need more
than a rom-com to turn your eye into a
niagara falls... which way's the
hmm hum umm?
this sort of time-frame
is really confiscating my
anti-claustrophobic philia
worth of shaking
hands or knee-jerking
really quick;
get my drift? no? no matter...
i can do with a "thought"
basis for summary...
ah **** me...
can you imagine feeling
magnetism when shaking
your hand really ******
apart from watching
paint dry,
i suggest the "movie"
of watching ice freeze,
or mercury freeze...
the latter?
gone with the wind standard
of 3 hours +...
nice though...
to imagine, better still:
imitate...
what a sin to bed driving
a car, and listening to
classical music,
citing john brunning after five
p.m., who the **** listens to
classical music when driving
a car?
leprechauns?!
he-be-he-be-hoom-ha?!
modesty just ****** off,
all we're left with is
a welcome "bargain" of profanity;
i always enjoyed the idea
of running 100m while dribbling
a football, like the time
when marc overmars could outrun
most sprinters dribbling a football
while playing the left-wing for arsenal...
every time i see these men of sprint
getting all cocky... i tend to ask
them: hold an egg on a tbl. spoon...
and run the same time of the worth
of distance...
marc overmars would still
out-run you...
mind the fact that he was also dribbling
a football...
evidently humanity will not
remember a marc overmars: simply because
he wasn't in a ****** advert...
too bad... that dutch "prince" could
out-run that jamaican rod while
juggling three oranges with his hands,
balancing a watermelon on his head,
and dribbling a football;
basic!
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 9:57 PM UTC