"reamed" poems
Worst comes to worst,
don't go crazy
on a Friday.
Don't lose it on the train tracks,
you will get reamed.
If you decide to lose your mind
at the bus-stop
don't forget that there are some irrevocable
hurts
in this world.
Maybe you will go
to a seafood spot,
at Southport
and stare at the gulls
and scream
from inside the sound studio
of your car.
The kind of sound studio
that could deaden
sound
itself.
Maybe you will hammer it out
in your garage
and destroy your entire face
with a buzz-saw,
because insanity is your husband's love.
There is a bridge
where cars stream
and make
river-noises,
jumping from pearly concrete
to volcanic asphalt,
you might feel how it feels to
go from heaven to hell,
maybe you're always at that place,
but if anything
don't
do
it
on
a
Friday.
Mondays are better for self-hatred
and
suicide.
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
Grab-ass is as far from **** as promiscuity
is from prostitution---
The Weinsteins move to Nigeria
to make Nollywood blockbusters
w/ kpop soundtracks---
big in China & Russia, making movie stars
of Ukrainian beauty queens driving drunk
at midnight in a country where grab-ass is okay
& homosexuality is illegal
& subject to the death penalty---
See beautiful African women
lining up to get their ***** felt
by the Jewish movie mogul
who can make them stars overnight---
Mathematically correct & joined by Chinese
& Indian beauty queens in a veritable renaissance
Of ***** men and women
who become bolder in public
than in private in speaking out against those
who promote the homosexual lifestyle;
**** them all!’ they cry
& the Nollywood industry cranks on---
American boycott the new Nollywood films
Which means nothing but free publicity
Since Asian people line up
around the block & ***** the ***** of women
in front of them & Russians
hail the resurgence of masculinity
when the life of Pushkin is made into a biopic
with a Russian cast in
a Russian-Nigerian co-production;
In Elizabethan theatre
(the height of the Renaissance in England)
Young boys played girls
& backstage got their butts dutifully reamed---
The universal irony that young boys
replaced women yet were *****
& molested as if they were---
European history has always been gay
from the Neanderthals who died out from ******
(the root of the myth of ***** & Gomorrah);
To the Greeks & Romans
to the Catholic Church---to gay marriage
to the rights of transgenders
to be treated like women & men except in reverse
which changes everything for everybody---
In Nigeria gay men are lynched by mobs
Of right-thinking citizens
who pay good dollars to see movies
Where some of the world’s most attractive women
get sodomized by rough,
burly macho male stars as if they were boys---
Nollywood becomes Nollyporn
becomes Nollyrape & sells around the world
bringing in millions & then billions---
while Americans & Europeans, Australians & Kiwis
adamantly promote the gay agenda
that is rejected by the rest of the world---
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
If you scream no one will hear you
If you scream I will **** you
Little girl of seven
How ‘bout you bring me to heaven?
I’ll take you on a trip
You’ll feel your insides rip
It’s ten past noon
The beginning of June
She screamed anyway
In the middle of the day
Ten minutes before,
She knocked on her door
Nobody is home
She’s all alone
So she skipped to the park
Past trees of paper-white bark
To swing on the swings
Such a thoughtless innocent thing
He was looming there
She didn’t really care
Friendly he did seem
And tried to push her on the swing
Alarmed, she struggled to get down
He shoved her to the ground
The smell of cigarettes
The sound of deep heavy breaths
Deflowered was the maiden(head)
Defiled was the child
So loudly she had screamed
From the object he had reamed
Rough and rigid was the shaft
A sharp pain and the smell of blood
Briefly she blacked out from the traumatic flood
The monster bolted from the sound of her cries
What had he done? She understood.
Showed her womanhood
The smell of cigarettes
The beginning of regrets
The sting of his sixty second fling
Although he was gone
His stench lingered on
So once more, she ran to her apartment door
No one was there to comfort her despair
On her porch she sat
Numb and waiting
Mom comes home and asks what’s wrong
Why did she take so long?
A police report was made
The girl’s memory begins to fade (shove it down, make it drown)
Ten past noon
That day in June
A sunny day in the park
Where her life went dark
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 10:34 AM UTC
I walked lines and drew them
I wrote lines and snorted them.
I don't know, maybe my brain
was hemmed by a stem in my
gene pool. We reamed these fools,
for that one day we can say, hey
like Willie Mays' catch in 1952.
Unless you were finely dined by
these lines. I am nothing, but grit
and broke. Hopefully the smoke
will rise... through these lines.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
Dark and gelid
A chill of fear runs up my spine
With my death, I flirted
How he snuck, so vulpine.
My captor had me bound
Before I realized
The ropes he put around
Would leave me incised
I tugged and I screamed
In the silver moonlight
While he reamed,
I swore I would fight
I am not a princess
By birth, nor blood, nor right
But I have a fierceness
A silent kind of might
My ropes then I rend,
And I am free again.
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
Just because you think something is wrong,
Doesn't mean that its not right.
You don't see perspective,
But your own.
It's pitiful.
Open those two-faced eyes.
See from others lives.
You worship god.
See others role.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
I sit here on my perch
Gazing into the street
Feels good on my perch
It helps my aching feet
Call them back
Weight and vitals
Tell me your history
Please do not lie to me
Pinch the babies
Make them cry
So when they come back
They'll of me be shy
Well, this one lied to me
Now I stand before my boss
My *** getting reamed
Thanks to the one who lied to me
This one just found out they have cancer
Hold their hand
Hug them tight
As they ask why, looking for an answer
Wipe the tears from my eyes
It's time for the next
Look at the clock
After twelve
Still no lunch yet
The afternoons are starting
Still haven't been able to sit
My feet
**** are they aching
Now it's five
The last one just left
Missed my lunch
I don't remember if I peed yet
Now I can sit on my perch
Looking out my window
Watching the cars pass by
They're going home
That I long to do
The paperwork though
Home isn't coming soon
The day in the life
of this clinic nurse
So happy to just sit
**** my feet hurt***
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC
There are days where triggers are around every corner,
They lurk in shadows where darkness spills heavy breaths and tight chests...
Anxiety is a devasting thing...
No matter how many times you're told to "Breathe," it feels as though you're being reamed by the neck
So short of air and despite every logical reason to remain calm the feelings isn't the reality we all know that, but
You feel like a ship without a sail in the middle of a raging storm,
Torn down of all available help...
That help that could be to go to a friend and shout
Contradictions stare at us and you begin to question what it was or why
You tried to reach out for a hand when it's easier to cut those laces with those most important in places within you
It's easier to deal with it alone
And run away from the other facts, that they would help you if they only know//though shouldn't they know by the way I'm acting?
That's the lie within the lie
No one knows why we cry
Unless we open up from the inside
And let others see with their own eyes
No one knows unless we tell em'
Shouldn't expect them to know it
Or assume that we need help, in the best of light, no shadow would've cast down on your sight
You see what they cannot
And this begins the second thought...
Like a paperweight of all worries
Shouldn't you touch that page and turn it
It's easier said than done which is why so many close the book and refuse to write any more
What a bore, chore, snore
Let the pour of depression take it some more
You want help and the words escape your voice, lost in the void we call space
Can't make what's not there possible...
Giving up is that one obstacle that is inviting
But why, no not why
That's the lie within a lie
No one knows why we want to fly
Force those wings from the inside
And let others see you...the real you
With their own eyes
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC