"replete" poems
The new # 69 hoochi coochi smoochi
rubberized *** robot ****** sucker model 2.0
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****** off
feelin lonely
tired of spats
credit cards charged up from dates that don't put out
don't like the same restaurants
not ***** to your taste
cant stand the in-laws
you wana live costal, they like Kansas
or
tired of internet dating
and no time for a quickie
when the one you love tells you they aren't in the mood
well bunky
its a brave new world
take a spin in our new model
robot 69, 2.0
they talk
they walk
warm all ova inside and out
scented oiled perfumed *** optional
and flavored
to include
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and
phooey
replete with an array of assorted interchangeable
***** pussy's and butts
extra sturdy for ware and tear
and those little irresistible spankies and whoopins
you just cant live without
plus any colors, or rainbow rubber chasse
gay straight or mix it up how eva
trans trans gender
buy out right
or rent ala cart
deluxe or standard
voice activated
advanced multi lingual
baby talk and hits the high notes
talks back software program
and
NO always means YES
plus
screams
cu cu cu cu cu cummmmming
cooes I love you
**** me now *****
shred me you ****** ******
and many others
in over 50 languages
Other optional features include
age play
ethnic fetish
banjee
blow jobs
tipping the velvet
**** to mouth
salad tossing
tea bagging
spit roast
bare back
chicken head
death grip
*******
mammary ***********
***** call
Netflix and chill
donkey punch
golden shower
brown bath
cream pie
*******
motor boating
and the shocker
two in the pink and one in the stink
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
*towering gently overflowing with heightened awareness
subtle hints of blade’s keen glittering chiseled edges
untamed rugged surface powerfully averts gale’s acrid tempest
vigor pulsating that doth persuade the cloud’s reflections
if i shall not again embrace a meager glimpse; a demure echo
of thine towering mounts my soul shall ever suffer
my spirit soars with e'er one glance of thine majestic presence
replete with reminiscence seasons stir and beg thine tender mercies
to house the changing leaves at dusk of autumn’s auburn portraits
and give birth to crystal snow cascading peripherally in winter
which melding into spring then begs thy bluffs to cover
in soft amethyst of columbine blossoming first light of summer
‘tis not paramount to scale high aloft thine peaks in escalation
for small sheer glances stamp forever with imperial impressions
and ‘tho i’ve traveled ‘round and savored nature’s varied essence
none can compare thine evergreens laced in aspens nuance
my breath is gone and shan’t return ‘til in thy shadow casting
i stand and look upon thine hallowed face the rocky mountains
©2016 janetaylor
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 4:42 PM UTC
a cerebral grasping of existence’s resplendence
is insufficient
tenuously treading bereavement’s tide
i cradle life
twinkling moments spent on this planet
are hallowed time
i walk in quiet reverence as tears flow
at innocuous occurrences
god’s face aglow in each instance
perspective revived
a bumblebee drifting gently settles
evoking awe
i stand pensive aforetime unaware
in cathedrals we stand
eyes newly uncovered awakened discover
celestial dimensions
people replete with infinite spirit
are all that surround
my senses abruptly adjusting their focus
‘tis an earthly angelic realm
©2016janetaylor
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
In the morning I heard the Koel’s melodious call
It is a sure sign of Sneaking autumn’s fall
What a striking difference between winter and spring
It is undoubtedly season’s eternal king
I love nature’s green saree
She smiles with an uncontrollable spree
Her saree is full of beautiful flowers
there are very many different colours
Nature’s Bindi is the glorious sun
Her hair pin is the shining moon
She cools herself with her natural fan
Her stay here might be of a little span
She sits with an yellow sarree in the palanquin
The bride groom looks at her as if she were a queen
Her beauty and shyness is her divine pride
She is a newly married mesmerizing bride
the villages are replete with ripe corn
All the birds enjoy this beautiful morn
Mar 25, 2011
Mar 25, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
The candle light flickers with such intimacy,
Celeste bodies colliding in allure,
Leaving only marks of compassion,
Turbulence and vile noted under the moon light,
As people envy our love in the other room,
The charisma and sparkle in our synchronization,
The heart melting and charming sensations,
My feet limp and my head spins,
With every stroke and touch that you trace along my back,
Goose bumps seem to increment,
****** emerges that weaken the chains in my soul,
Hangover
Strengthening my love and awareness towards you,
Enthralling enchant,
Chamber of secrets revealed,
A new dawn seen,
Replete words,
Embelleshed and kept,
Diffusing angst and reviving love beat,
Singing me deep lullabies as I sleep.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
How tenuous this grip we have, how slight our hold remains
When all around loud braggards boast that power now pertains,
We see the banner headlines splashed across our daily rags
And redneck demonstrations cleans the streets of Spics and ****
When blood runs in the gutter as the battons rise and fall
And whilst taking tea in style the filthy rich ignore it all.
The blonde leader of our nation struts, postulates and brags
While the rest of us skive off around the corner smoking ****
Our kids ingest confusion as they loiter on the street
Unknowing our delusions make illusions held, replete.
How tenuous the grip we have, how slight our hold remains
As our allies shower cold distrust convinced our fault inflames.
What chance of clear redemption, what remedies revive
When truth is lost to darkness can our honesty survive?
Reputation cut to shards, confidences ******
That leaders of community no longer hold our trust
When white is caste as black and then to green and then to grey
And sanity refuses pontification one more day.
How tenuous the grip we have, how slight our holds remain
As twilight turns to darkness caste against a larks’ refrain.
M.
The White House
HAMILTON, New Zealand
25 July 2018
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
Today is the festival of colours.
We,Indians, sprinkle colours on friends
Nature is replete with beautiful colurs.
Life is a mixture of many emotions
We turn red when we are angry
and we become greenif we are jealous
Red stands for change and valour
White is symbolic of peace and purity
Green symbolizes harvest and prosperity
Yellow is considered good omen
Saffron means sacrifice
black is considered an evil
The leaves are green
The human blood is red
The Ripe fruits and corn are yellow
milk is white and the sky is blue
Nature and life are inseparable
Different colours tell different things
May the festival of colurs bring Happiness
and prosperity in this trouble torn world!
Mar 19, 2011
Mar 19, 2011 at 3:38 AM UTC
did you know
that the
self effulgent light
of God it self
is **** shaped
as above so below
the inner revelation
******* above...light woven
*** hole below ...flesh woven
does this not infer
a magical operation
perhaps a hermetic
ritual of adoration
perhaps a puja
to the ****
with ornate
kaleidoscopic mandalas
replete with wrinkles
and folds
emerald toilet bowls
silk *** wipe
with full color florals
to be ingratiated
by **** art prints
and to be fussed over
and judged
by certified *******
clergy
then to cleanse
with fragrant ointments
that it may remain
unsullied by its
birthing labors
voluptuous
smoldering
fecundations
for purities sake
as god remains
free of limitation
it too
must remain
free of its forgetful
tarnished children
i build temple of ****
high above the people
the little *****
do they
even know
where they come from
how they may
devote themselves
to the grandeur
of the solar ****
and its bestowals
of clumpy torpedoes
the catechism
of the solar ****
to know
to adore
to prostrate
to proselytize
the glory of ****
to the
for corners
of the earth
to be faithful
unto it
to be obedient
and present
your *******
for ritual manicures
by the true initiates
the fussy
******* faeries
those who have
the secret knowledge
and remain true
to the lore
and precepts
set forth
of divine correspondences
to fully appreciate
its eminence
its glory
and have no
God before it
that mercy
will follow them
all the days
of there lives*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
In the divet between mountains
Resides a wooden cabin – ostensibly an amalgamation of the scape
Adroitly - I - quondam female warrior flit
Down massive (ancient) hand-laid, hand-cut carved stone steps
Bounding from contingent step onto the dense pad of turned soil
Tacit compliance between gravity and soil holds footprints bound
A compressed deflating crescendo as pace ignites with bounds
Cadences of protuberant wildflowers and grasses erupt from swollen terra
A winsome chromatic menagerie, dispersed in ecstatic fistfuls
A venerably ancient ritual
My nascent clandestine vocation
Personally meted out - a beatification for my provisional sanctuary
Along glacier-fed stream
Lissome fingers shadow inert stalks –plucking dormant beginnings from their desiccated ligaments
I am austere and unadorned save for a festoon of pyrite flecks trailing my semblance
Residual gilding from my ante-meridian swim taken after requisite gathering of wild blackberries, goose berries, and rhubarb along oft-tamped path
The sun, nestling into its requisite apex endorsed my completion
I reclined into the hassock of soil, feeling the elements settle about with an embossment of my form
Imposing verdure arched subtly as compressed soil beckoned hyperbolic flux
As I lay within the basilica of opulent living columns replete with comestible bounty
Lingering dew honed inflections of sacrosanct petrichor in unison with piquant clover
Wild purple clover buds saccharinely tinted and inundated nestled nerves in mine cribriform plate
Birds pitched and galloped through the frond tips and beyond in the lapis expanse
Frequently snatching damselfly’s and assemblages of midges from their ephemeral drift
Auspicious rays transcended stippled diaphanous gravid clouds
Light inundated ether entered humbly into the cathedral oculus
Pyrite speckled terrain beneath, and my bare gilded form above
Cast a refracted aura about my sanctuary
Precipitously the elusive vaporous embankment distended further
Ashen atmospheric correspondence inaugurated liquescent sustenance to my mountain abode
And I -
Lingered beneath the descending gobbets, curls furled in a puddle
Fresh topsoil cupping my corporal topographic contours
Pressing blackberries into my mouth between smiles
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
The rainbow is still black and white,
Pitched in various hues,
Vibrant black and sullen whites,
Blending with the blackness inside.
Replete with broken trusts,
Reflecting a thousand shattered pieces,
Fading out like these emotions,
It never lived the light of dawn.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
Finally this Mint Assembly is Complete
As the Last Great Angel will sure confirm
Eight Gold Aureoles from Best Moments replete
A Standing Ovation his Spirit burns
See now, Prince of the Plym! And Testify
How they shared Lives to fertilise your Growth
There was no Contract; Only Hearts abide
Reminding you the Cradle of your Birth
Now you, Sweet Divine, to your Future's spout
Kindly live yourself well for Dream's extract
Know my Prayers stand as Friends throughout
Yet a Friend-on-Purpose I dress intact.
Eight Best Friends. Eight Blessed Souls I give Breath:
Kate. Dil. Jess. Beck. Lauren. Kat. Alice. Beth.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC
A milk udder lure between her thigh
though her chanty where bin nigh
as day her ungulate would stack
their jugs full in this wooden shack
while shop worn gloves did amount
a shine must replete but always count
only first total inside their raw clement.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
There is a sequence of small events, signs; that as they occur point us in the direction of the mid-winter festival. This morning: the first snow; iced rain, not the soft down-like floaty stuff, but hard crystal-shaped foot-crunching shards. Yesterday, it was on with the wooly hat, the padded waistcoat and a more than just sprightly walk in a park of leafless trees. Everywhere, a damp coldness.
Sitting companionably after the meal, a fire spitting in the hearth had brought a glow to her cheeks. She was replete with glowness, her speech dancing too and fro after the family phone calls of a Sunday night. Outside, the sound of wind against the house.
Settling herself against him, feet tucked under his reclining body, she tells him about her niece, a birthday girl just two last week. This little one was touchingly innocent of what happens on a birthday. She knew it was coming, next week, soon, then tomorrow. Imagine her the night before: just think you'll wake up and be two! And that's what this birthday business is? She wakes and there is something special in the air, her sister smile-full, bouncy with expectation. Her parents’ voices are louder than usual, there are bigger hugs and longer kisses. Birthday, birthday, birthday. Her grandparents arrive. More hugs. THEN her father appears with a cake! It's only just after breakfast, but the large people are having coffee and there's her juice cup and a cake! Birthday, birthday, birthday shouts her sister. For me, a cake for me? My cake? Daddy lights the candles! Oh, oh, oh. This is . . . and something wrapped in pretty paper is being handed to me. Her sister, being wonderfully sisterly shows her how to remove the wrapping. A book! Read it to me now, now, please. It's my birthday, now.
This is a sign he thinks later when in bed she folds herself to him, arranges his arms and hands to hold her into sleep, still glowing a little. This is surely a sign. A child's discovery of the birth day. The joy it brings, the way it lights up our lives. And never again will her father see quite that measure of surprise and delight in his daughter's face. Next year she'll be full of expectation, know all about birthdays . . and be three.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
Prescient, her essence
Casts a demure persuasion,
Endowed with verve and vision;
Concept to consummation,
The serenely possessed,
Creator, originator,
Allusion to the eternal azure,
Logos of abstraction,
Word and image collision.
Tonal palette of faith infused reason
Beauty and sublimity,
Serve to season
Verse, canvas and film,
Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom,
Lyrical each permutation,
Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical.
Visage and hair, her figure haunted
With perfection - a work of Art
Nurtured and lived invocation,
The canon of taste;
Crystal for the *****
Devotional fragrance ,
Holistic ethos, melodic invention,
Animated, pure -
The embodiment of redemption.
Transcending form, parenthetically
(Merely) the decorative,
Allure, artistry and symmetry
Superlative complexity,
Her erudition satiates, supplanting
Winds of constructive banality.
Purveyor of an uncommon savor,
She collaborates in the peculiar
Pursuit and reward,
Encounter with depth, explored,
Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime
Igniting within an Eros
Passion for truth, being and Telos.
Visionary of grace and peace
Transforming our earthbound dissonance;
Our caprice,
Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity,
She narrates the Good.
Pen, lens, color and stage
Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive
Romantic articulation,
The reservoir deep,
Innately primed conduit of Love.
Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite
Woman of substance, pulchritude
And delight.
Effervescent - her smile exquisite,
Eclipsing suffering,
Wordless expression, understood language.
I am transported, my imagination replete,
Sonya Rose -
Art personified; unabridged, complete.
©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Spring came full of rejuvenating hope to ward off the chilly winters,
It came replete with dreams of days much brighter,
It came to exfoliate & gently scrub away the old ones,
Yes it came to make way for the new flowers.
It stayed till the sun was high up there in the shy sky,
It stayed till the sun burnt holes in human pockets with bills of electricity,
It stayed till the sun was cursed for being out there with AC's to help the well to do,
Yes it stayed there till it was the merciless month of June.
Summer then took over in July by burning animal & human skins alike,
It even did not spare a patch of cool water in the naked-barren lands,
It made animals cry & people kneel down and call for help,
Yes their calls weren't left unanswered and soon it was the rainy monsoon.
Monsoon - the rainy season lashes upon the oven hot land in August's end,
It eases the hot temperatures and releases peafowls in mating,
It even threatens to drown the ill-prepared cities of India by flood-waters,
Yes Mumbai is just one example of how Indian people want the autumn to come.
Autumn - the reliever from torrid showers,
It is an exception in the Indian season cycle,
It is neither that torrid monsoon before it nor is it the hostile winters succeeding it,
Yes it is a short calm time just before the winter season extreme in the north.
Winter season as we've learnt to call it in schools,
It sends chills down the spines of Indian people all over,
It is harsh only in the north but the other people simply don't have tolerance or genes,
Yes I love the beautiful winter season so what if once it nearly took my life while on trekking.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
The world is full of friends yet to meet
The world with divine love replete
O Ganesh, I am at your feet
Your incarnation in the poetry of the beat
Statuesque and filled with light
As I saw you on my flight
A mesmerising and illustrious sight
That bids goodbye to hate and spite
Irresistible to adore
Ganesh, the champion of ancient lore
A countervailing force to war
Hear him riot, hear him roar
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 8:33 PM UTC
The evening breeze,
the rhythm of the trees,
the song of love,
the honey bees,
I climb back under the covers
and dream of traveling horses,
starry skies, valleys and plains;
from which the mountains rise.
I keep my feet upon the ground.
She keeps her eyes upon the road.
Our souls, wild and fertile, roaming with desire,
Our souls, wild and fertile, roaming with desire,
but love ?
In that she is replete;
traveling from A to Z.
and i'm happy for her.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 6:01 AM UTC
The assassins hit in 63
And Camelot was gone,
Inspiration vanished
And the darkness sang it’s song.
*Vietnam escalated
Brezhnev’s Russia loomed,
Africa was eviscerated
And Red China entombed.
*Floating on a long white cloud
The Kiwis were replete
With abundant British markets
For their butter, wool and meat.
*The Europeans went ****
And Britain lost it’s way
When the Beatles and the Rolling Stones
Monopolized their day.
*Man landed on the moon
And raised the Yankee flag
And they shot Mahatma Ghandi
For making good things out of bad.
*The Berlin Wall dividing,
The Cold War tense and spare,
ICBM’s threaten silently
In their silos of despair.
*Bob Menzies ruled Australia
As an amassing of his loot
And his White Australia Policy
Condemned him as a brute.
*Found naked on her tousled bed,
Blonde hair across her face,
Marylin Monroe is dead
The world’s a darker place.
*In the Age of Aquarius
Our children lost their youth,
LSD and smoking ***
And Afro’s were the proof.
*Lots of leg in miniskirts,
High bouffant’s in the hair,
Screaming teeny boppers
Rock with Elvis on “the Air”.
*Giant, Rawhide, Ponderosa,
Martin Luther King,
Kaftans and a cheese fondue,
Abortion is a sin!
It’s a sixties kaleidoscope,
A panoramic skim
Of an era of wonderment
Which you and I lived in.
Marshalg
@the Gate
Mangere Bridge
20th January 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:25 PM UTC
Cerro Aconcagua sat on his Feet
Watching his children browse his Bones below
Either for Sport or for Samples replete
As they enjoyed the Splendour of his Brow
And how you hugged the Wind which sprayed your Frost
Then took your Role as a Giant-of-Salt
This the Rockies felt the best you can boast
Though in that Line conscience comes to halt
For what they discovered, an Inca wrapped
Possibly a Victim of Sacrifice
Flesh still worn; Of Fibres long-live sapped
For the Sky-God's Hunger he did suffice.
The only Wonder as far as I see
How Sturdy are you yet Motherly be.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
I breathe you in until I can no more
And savor ev’ry moment that you’re near
Breathless. Winded. Your closeness I adore
For in your sweet embrace I have no fear
I drink you in until I am replete
You fill and overflow my wanting heart
Two souls rejoice and hearts together beat
A bond beyond compare; never to part
And as we slowly dance this dance of love
And all others are but a silhouette
You draw me close; as one; like hand and glove
Then speak to me the words I’ll not forget
And in my heart they’re locked; and there they’ll stay
Forever more – until my dying day
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 11:34 PM UTC
****** thought it was a concept novel.
But wrong he was.
India knew Blitzkrieg long before ******
In ancient dramas like Mahabharata,
And of course the older Ramayana,
The epics are replete with incidents,
Or rather determining acts of battle,
That determined the course of time,
Armies attacked the relaxing armies,
Changed the outcome of war.
So was the ancient Indian ideology.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
Two inconnu sheathed within sight of one moon
Betwixt embers'and uppers consumed by whom
Two nocturnal allies have each exhumed
By Caffeine and Adderall's swindling tomb
And Nicotine's cluches; an imbibing room
He can't spell
I can't speak
Parallels
None bespeak
He's got canines and relatives
To replete empty spots
Whilst a book full of lies
Keeps my soul ersatz.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
Already the month
of August 2018,
May never become
a je June'm
(Forget-me-not)
time of year,
especially for nouveau
homeless and,
penniless residents,
(now more like worrier),
who reside in the
(burnt to a crisp)
Golden State where,
towering uncontrollable
wild fire infernos veer
really did tax mental,
physical, and spiritual
oye vey iz mare (to
the bajillion power
of Google Plex) their
heirlooms, mementos,
and trappings of
das kapital lifestyle
went up in smoke,
which tragedy didst seer
the eyes (yes, iz traumatic,
but also the air)
looms with toxic
particulate matter,
though concerned former
propertied owners
(now ashen faced)
as utter grief doth rear
a scorched (bumping) ugly head,
yet the onset of Autumn,
(and the main
purport of this poem)
(oh my dog, that twill be
in approximately three weeks,
when Eastern Orthodox Church
denotes beginning of ecclesiastical
annum mull house
for straight or queer
(these times opening
doors to LGBT, or GLBT
(an initialism that
stands for lesbian,
gay, bisexual, and transgender),
nonetheless history
replete with app pear
chock full of factoids such as:
September (Latin septem,
"seven") with near
exhaustive steeped in
pagan glory of antiquity.
Ancient Roman observances
for September include:
Ludi Romani, originally celebrated
September 12 - September 14,
later extended to
September 5 to September 19.
In 1st century BC, an extra day added
in honor of deified
Julius Caesar on 4 September.
Epulum Jovis held: September 13.
Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22.
Septimontium celebrated September, and
December 11 on later calendars
September called "harvest month"
in Charlemagne's calendar.
September corresponds partly to
Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire
of first French republic.
On Usenet, September 1993
(Eternal September) never ended.
September called Herbstmonat,
harvest month, in Switzerland.
The Anglo-Saxons called
month Gerstmonath,
barley month, that crop
then usually harvested.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
Spacious and resplendent,
Summoning people only once,
Words replete with beauty,
The voice of the imam like music to our ears,
Performing Hajj,
People from faraway,
Come to pray,
In the house of God for seeking His light,
Forgiveness and prayer on their tongues,
Regret and guilt shedding from their eyes,
Quarrels and worries aside,
Not caring about colour and creed,
My eyes seek only forgiveness,
And guidance,
For making things right,
O God please forgive me !
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
there in the wilderness
all things go to live
and all things go to die.
she stole my shirt and hatchet
and took to the woods.
hacked out the heart.
traded one wilderness for another. city into
trees.
she needed to breathe
and wring wet socks, relax, and study the mycelium songs underfoot.
she she she, like a marvelous
new love.
the grass and green stuff woven.
canteen replete with wheat nectar
or half-batch whiskey.
needs nutrient,
the seed so new.
needs space,
the daughter as she grew.
what tempest breaks the trees and old heads
of mother timber?
perhaps deep-winter,
to test the fiber of a florescent forest fleek.
she built a chikee from fallen arms of a sprucewood soul,
drank water from a clay-thrown bowl
and granola to heat her bones.
new fish.
the river is cold on glacier blood.
new day,
driven beyond the random access roads & cobalt blast-holes stretching
gulches bloomed in chaparral.
up they crawl along monumental spine and shoulder,
giants sleeping.
she she she, live a marvelous new love.
the wonder is seen.
the wilderness lived and remembered
by girl or elk bugling their high-decibel poems
when ready.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC