"sampling" poems
it's hard to
be with you
and not get *****
your ***
your stomach
everything about you
makes me feel like
I just want to lift you up and throw you on the bed
rip your clothes off
and **** u so hard
until u *** all over
and scream and moan
and breathe so heavy
I want to feel your warm breath
on my neck
I want to feel your voice vibrate
as you give me head
I want to hear you say oh yes
as I **** you on the desk
and lift you up
and feel your *** cheeks
in my hands
girl I can't stand
to watch you walk away
without having a taste
and a sampling
of that wetness
my body yearns for you
it's a machine
that wants to be strong
and make you feel so good
that you can't imagine
ever touching another man
because
I'm your rock
When I had you in my arms
took hold of you
took control of you
you're mine now
I'm going to dominate you
and she likes it
she likes when I take over
and **** her all over
in several different positions
on the counter
to the bed
she ****** me, she was on top
and i felt that *** go up and down
and clap against my *****
then I flipped her over
and got on top
and ****** her hard and slow
she wanted to *** on my ****
which was perfectly fine with me
as I was caressing her ****
I ****** her against hte wall
threw her against the dresser
rubbed her *** on it
hard and aggressively
and made her breath
heavily
I lifted her leg up and pinned her against the wall
and felt all of her walls
as I pulled out and slid back in
all the way to the tip
to the base of my ****
she said does that feel good baby
I said yeah it's the best
she sent me pictures
of her *** and ****
and her pretty face
and I couldn't help but think
about how I wanted to take
my **** and go up in it
pull out
and *** all over her ***
and make her feel it
make her moan
make her legs shake
and vibrate
I want to make her ***** feel like
it's having a 7.1 earthquake
on the richter
I fixed her
she was stressed out
feeling uneasy
anxious
and an ****** relaxed her
gave her the endorphins she needs
to go about the rest of the week
let's **** baby
let's do it all night long
til we can't go anymore
and we're left laying on the bed
holding each other
laying sideways
with no pillows
forgetting about
how we usually sleep
and our bodies locked in
to each other
we're the same one another
we're a unit
together
******* not just for pleasure
but to satisfy our needs
and emotionally
doing each other good deeds
so we can go to bed
and get good sleep
and be better people
we're a strong couple
and we always know how to make the bed rumble
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC
Poetry is like sushi.
Sushi contains
Rice & goodies
Wrapped in nori.
Both are combined rolled
Into cylinders
Then cut
Into rolls.
Poetry
Is sounds & tropes
Rolled into images
Each poem
A unique
Experience.
When you
Eat Sushi
With chopsticks
You are too eat
the rolls
with just one bite
Sampling the wholeness
of the taste
and presentation.
May you
Devour
This poem
On the chopsticks
Of your feelings
And sample
The flavor
In the ink.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
Within a world of azure blue,
the mantas glide with angel wings,
and fly on winds of ocean waves,
inside their realm of mystery.
Like ancient beings from the deep,
they flash and shimmer in our light,
with other-worldly mammoth forms;
cephalic fins and flattened frames.
These gentle giants of the night,
draw fishes from the briny deep,
their vivid forms flash to and fro,
feed on the banquet of the sea.
They dance balletic in our lights;
exquisite, rings and summersaults,
with bubbles lit to guide their path,
they glide just past our mortal reach.
These stunning marvels of the deep,
are but a finite sampling,
of what our planet offers up,
far past our wild imaginings.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC
Random Sampling
Coughing up a lung,
sticking out my tongue.
Looking up her skirt,
dropped my pencil in the dirt.
Watching movies just for fun,
I will never own a gun.
Cat **** on the floor,
kicked it out the door.
Jake The Snake and The Macho Man,
will forever be a wresting fan.
Heavy metal and hard rock,
Skid Row's singer was Sebastian Bach.
New Jersey's pizza is the best,
it would beat New York's in any taste test.
Slept with girls, I didn't like,
soon after, I made them take a hike.
Never slept with a man,
if the money was right, I guess I can.
Love all my family and friends,
mess with them and I will defends.
Done some killer drugs,
stuck screwdrivers in some plugs.
I love paper, I love pen,
I'm more smart than the Three Wise Men.
Pina Colada's in Margaitaville,
then I take the bitter pill.
I still love eighties music,
it's relaxing and therapeutic.
Baseball is my favorite sport,
the Phillies, I will always support.
The next Super Bowl will be held in San Quentin,
***** girls take it on the chin.
I had a few nervous breakdowns,
I've put on a few to many pounds.
Allen does what Allen wants,
how's that for my final response.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC
Splayed before him.. a gift...
Delight to his every sense
Drawn into her beauty.. the want...
Within her fragrance.. the need
A willing captive of desire...
One morsel.. delectable flesh...
Forever hunger
One drop.. sweet nectar...
Unquenchable addiction
One sampling of perfection...
Taste buds aflame
Surrender...
One nights passion...
One moment in time.. his
Sweetest Obsession
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
i always fall for the bad ones
the ones who arrived from the shadow
the ones who lurk in the darkness and
flirt with danger
the ones who allow reality to slip
through their finger tips
the one whose pale face shone
in the golden sun
you see the bad ones aren’t
afraid of sampling death
they are risk takers
the bottom line is
when a good one comes along
i push them away because
the bad one still needs fixing
the bad ones do have
a way with my heart
and it gets broken
over and over
guess who comes running back?
i can still fix them if they’d let me
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 1:43 PM UTC
Seven score and eleven years after the Emancipation Proclamation;
I'd like to thank my community for finally acknowledging his memory.
Wanting to view historical document written by Rev. Martin Luther King,
logged on and took a virtual trip to our ever expanding National Archives.
His views on day of historic speech, "Heartwarming to see this marvelous,
gigantic group of people here from all over the nation to give witness."
I'm giving credit to ABC news for being allowed to hear the man's words
from his own mouth without having to read them in black and white.
There's no argument in regards to race differences and that we the people,
have miles to go before we are at similar mindset in climate of opinion.
Spotlight should shine brightly on how far we've come as we the people,
away with all the negatives of no hopes of ever achieving racial harmony.
If MLK were alive today he'd see many positive changes and would see
his dream is still alive and well though we have miles to journey's end.
Yes, Dr. Martin Luther King, you are appreciated as we honor your day.
I have many reasons to thank you and all who paid the ultimate sacrifice.
My children are allowed to attend any public school they wish without fear.
I can now sit in the front of the bus without fear of arrest or a mob beating.
There are no laws preventing me from front door entry of public buildings.
Thanks so much! I'm free to date or marry any person of any race I choose.
The list above is just a small sampling of all the changes his life evoked.
I'm thankful he was gifted to our planet in period of time he was needed.
He is missed by the planet and those of us who are grateful that he existed.
Dr. Martin Luther King was true Visionary with foresight to see great things.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC
Comets or meteors?
Perhaps they're like rooks and crows
“Where there's a rook there's a crow
“Where there's crows there's rooks”
To be one amongst a shower, a storm of meteors
Hurtling through the emptiness of infinity
Protected by the confidence of knowing
That we and our equally frenzied fellow travellers
However far we hurl ourselves
Flashing by through all the vastness
Looking tiny and bright like a fireside's sparks
Consumed in a stampede, burning up and soon to be lost
Are in fact racing along a familiar orbit
That could last as long as a million years
Which all too soon will pull us back to where we've been
A familiar sight, overlooking what we've already seen
Or to be a lonely meteor
Deserting the pack, distracted by some new attraction
Sampling a novel atmosphere, hardly aware
Of the flames gathering round
Till the grip that was a comfort
That was such a pleasure to be caught by
Loses its interest or changes its intent
Returning the wanderer to the emptiness
Or turning a journey of exploration
Into a pitiful conflagration
With a final pathetic fall
Messy and destructive to all
That witness the meaningless call
Of that misguided journey's concluding bump
Well, I don't know if this is good science
And hope not to be subject to such violence
Shooting stars may enjoy applause from those below
But I'll see it all from here, and adore the moon's glow.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
In the silence between what I believed to be real and reality is where you sit
Nestled between hope and illusion, you are there.
Waiting patiently, hoping diligently, you are my own mirage
Sampling the fragrances of fancied flowers and waiting
Always waiting
Your toes dip in pools of uncertainty and you wonder why you are here
Purgatory and respiratory, I can't breathe in this space
This half way between heaven and hell
So right it can't be wrong
But am I really crazy to believe it is all a sham
This illusion of a closing is really an opening
If you stare at it long enough
And think at it hard enough
It might just open
And I used to try to squeeze myself through
Just before it was closed
Because I believed it wouldn't be opened again
Now all my bridges have been burned and there is no going back
Never going back
I feel like some action star, like Arnold Schwarzenegger
Walking away from the scene of an explosion
No looking back
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
A car is a coffin for popcorn
lost in the back seat
we've driven to Land's End
& are standing at the crossroads
between destinations
I'm twelve or fourteen, I can't remember
on holiday from starched uniforms
blazing red & pins & needles-ridden morning assemblies
I'm not yet a European
not yet a Third Culture Kid
longing for cans of baked beans
whilst sampling new delights
my heart is still intact,
my soul is full of hope & dreams
& my hair is long, the way
mother & society wanted it
the signpost is pointing to America
now my lost hope
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
H'min in I want some, and this Vita Mix thing 'round here
'dat gets an eyes wiff of this sort of thing and it starts singing
ringing a real living day dream 'get on over here' all of a sudden
seems I'm thirsty no drink in years Basil where's that friendly Dandelion
and last I saw they were all out together with baby Spinach and baby Kale
an' were looking quite sweetly there 'bout ready for what they so beautifully do,
see and ask 'em if they'd come along with all their great buds willing be super brew
for a little bit dear, needy and overly due sweety and we's more exacting on being more
the cup of tea of super elixirs, gets this dude feeling quite bit better on and maybe next task-set
don't set him so far down under and year after lil' bit sweeter and lighter yet; beyond our sweetness
magically green goddess's delight of the kind of treatment sometimes hard to find between themselves
those red blood bearing types; so let's call on down Cilantro, get on down and out some more 'dem ****
heavy metals, how 'bout this dude anybody kno where he could trick a book into dropping off a truck load of SuperKombu, ordinary Kelp and while we're here now; now can we form our hearts around every shore and river that pours into thee before it is too much more of woe are the seas; I'm going to go on now but 'dat one's got black holed gravity's; Chlorella, Spirulina, Blue Greens Bloom Algaes taken with care and sampling testing is what by me next to LOVE Love and well and the water there a very dear and essential shimmering part of God to me; Temple Body Temple Earth; be they battered tattered near or see it far two homes each has got; We All Holy Stewards; are we sleeping on the job; no captain at the helm; did we check in and walk out and get high and expect a check and hope to keep our jobs; please help me; how would each of 7 billion else describe; give me your dreams and or each your fears;
what do you want;
come alive or
disappear!!!!
R
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
Learn Advanced Math! Lines to Polygons
Curves, Circles, Angles to Polyhedrons
Challenge yourself with Algebraic Expression
Solve Polynomials & Linear Equations
Do Sampling Techniques, compute Data’s Central Tendency
Test their Correlations & Probability
Study Linear Function by f(x) = mx + b
And Quadratic Function by f(x) = ax2 + bx + c
There are also functions that are Polynomial
Periodic, Logarithmic & Exponential!
-09/04/2016
(Dumarao)
*GEN Poems
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 10:53 PM UTC
Lisa comes into my room and flops on the bed. The day had been uncompromisingly gray, windy and cold. The night sky was a snowy, blowing darkness, an absolute void that absorbed the campus lights and reflected nothing back. “I’m missing Spring Break,” Lisa she says.
“It doesn’t even seem like Spring Break happened,” I say. “Most Yalies went to Puerto Rico this year, I think, from my sampling.”
“RIGHT?” Lisa said, “EVERYONE says that - we’re in sync. But I enjoyed Paris,” Lisa continued, “I liked your family - no - I LOVED your family,” she amends.
“THAT’s a strong take,” I say, chuckling.
“I watched basketball with your uncle (Rémi) and cousins and helped your grandma cook,” she explains, “I felt like a part of your family.”
“Aww,” I say, “You ARE part of my family now - you’re TRAPPED,” and we laughed.
They invented spring break because after several months, the student mind starts to notice a harsh reality - how much their dorm room resembles a cinder-block jail cell - and starts to wonder how a lifetime of study and stress over grades has gotten them no further in life than the average felon.
We’re at lunch. Lisa says, “Ok, what’s new with you?” Keep in mind we see each other ten times a day.
“Well,” I say, I’ve decided that “The Beatles are for spring.” Lisa laughs. “Stop!” I demand, “I’m going deep. Today’s song is Julia,” I say, “It’s John Lennon’s song to his mom who was run over by a car when he was a child.” “I love that song,” Lisa says.
“Ok, what about you?” I ask.
“My song right now is “Move like a Boss,” Lisa says, “When I’m walking across campus, with my air pods on - I’m intense, don’t get in my way - I’m dangerous, I’ll Will Smith you - I scare me.”
“Good to Know,” I say, wishing I’d gotten a lemon brownie.
Then I add, “I’ve got this presentation on Monday that I haven’t even had time to look at yet. If I don’t get on it by this weekend it’ll be a nuclear-level disaster. I started on it yesterday and the Internet went down for 20 minutes. It was stressful - of course, you don’t know how long the outage is going to be when you’re IN it - and I had THINGS to do - is that convoluted? ”
“No,” Lisa says, nodding in agreement, “losing the Interweb’s traumatic.”
Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
Fingers and thumbs tapping out messages
so many texts written, so many read, smiles apart
faces, eyes, feelings, never shared
music videos; lips and music separate
empty sounds, never tugging the heart strings.
Thumbs and fingers keying in distance
so much data, so little experience shared, time apart
laptops, smart phones, processing emptiness
unfeeling, sampling blandness, subtleties lost
empty words, crowding our lives.
Curves, flowing lines and spaces, passion
compressed
squashed out are the senses
sweat and smells, laughter lost.
All in the empty kingdom of bits and bytes
reigned by the gods of technology
the mantra being faster, faster
but still
all fingers and thumbs in the affairs of the heart.
As surely as we are propelled forward
into tomorrow
we hurtle
back to the dark ages
the dark castles of aloneness
Empty words, lost in the cells of our separation
all fingers and thumbs.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:25 AM UTC
remember....damn, what his name...
it'a right there... I know I know this...
He used to play with the Beatles...
Uh...Bass left handed...
no, not John Lennon...the other one...
not George, you know the other one....
no, definitely not Ringo
C'mon Tag you know this...
was married to Linda
and then that other *****
He wrote "Michelle, my belle"
and yesterday, all my troubles seemed
so far away...
sont des mot qui vont tres bien ensemble
It's in there tag, don't blame it on the stroke
or the smokes
how can you not remember this...
tres bien ensemble...
If I can't remember him even for this
brief moment, did he even exist
in my solipsistic world....
now I need a place to hide away...
Oh crap...McCartney...
how do you forget McCartney
Paul...duh...
May 10, 2011
May 10, 2011 at 10:58 AM UTC
Content, with a tinge of love,
I repent
All I've given up.
Realize what I've surmised
Is a traversed trial of fire.
Higher, higher;
The atmosphere you admire:
Lighter breathing,
Muscles beating,
Entreating my desire.
A pyre,
The phoenix feeling renaissance:
The lover's having ---
Once the want to be satisfied ---
Which was, while shattered, reconciled ---
Compiled a mile-long list
To mist the ever-flowering tree
Of prospect,
Respecting past
Opinion.
Your dominion over my
Ever-subjugating heart
(Pulsating a Morse message)
Belittles meaning in
Stockholm Syndrome,
For I am no
Shackled drone;
And, forever,
This you've known.
We are symbiotic.
We are psychotic.
Celeritous symbols
Sampling this:
Extended metaphor.
Extempore, we entertain and
Adore each other,
The world we are to each.
So: teach me how you look
With beseeching reach
Into deep territory in sleep;
Incept directly
And affect me
Romantically.
Augment what is meant and true.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 11:20 PM UTC
Painted a masterpiece
In my dreams:
A Chilean villa.
Cactus streams.
A flower composed,
Wilted with time
With muted colors,
Tequila with lime.
Fields of desert
With tuxtla soaring.
Winding paths of
Wood and brick flooring.
A cool wind blows
Through the heat
Over sweaty brows
And sandaled feet.
A moment trapped
That’s never been.
A life of others
Never seen.
Put away my brushes,
Stood back to admire
The deep ocean sky,
The burnt orange fire.
It lay on the table,
Alive on the canvas
When waking did cause
My hard work to vanish.
In memory only
And never shown
Forever discarded
Once beautifully known.
My studio of mind
So often produces
A wonderful concept
With no practical uses.
I’d like to live there
And run those streets,
Take shade under awnings
Sampling savory meats.
But I’ll never go there,
Never see that place.
Never plant in soil
That’s been erased.
That marvelous day
Conceived at night
Keeps the dreaming
Forever alight.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
What would I do without my fondest delirium?
he stalks my outside musings
he surprises my sharpest joy within
the dullest treading tumult.
I love the embrace of his watchful eye
he peruses my dreams,
a chef sampling caviar laced Hors d'oeuvres.
I speak to him through every reflection
the blank stare of vending machine glass,
the audacity of bathroom mirrored lashes,
the subtle wink of windows, skylights, vistas
every portal into another expanse
blasts me into the remainder of his silhouette.
What would I do without my fondest delirium?
he is the simplest clarity upon my devoted retinas
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
We'll live off contemporary breaths
Feeling the others resonating behest.
Faltering novelties woven at peace by pieces sampling these dangerous games.
Strutting their stuff, presence increased, releasing their hold over the tame.
Grand new shapes in sight
Moving closer, my feet are too fast.
How many past times can this outlast?
Inflated euphoria, bleeds over and takes me aghast.
Lining my heart, these infectious consorts and subtleties.
Letting me believe only in quartz and melody.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Completed, unfinished
Meeting, never met
Craving the simplest flame
The unrequited touch
Tender, a sampling
Vivacious
Do I know you?
I would like to
I would love to
Extinction is near
I can smell it
The death of the neatly
And inky curved letters
The excitement
Of receiving
One day, perhaps already
Electric transmission
Will monopolize
Gone will be
The crisp letter
Neatly folded, tantalizing
Faintly scented, terrifying
You and I
Always, on and on
Forever will exchange
The pieces of paper
Which to others
Mean nothing
Yet to us
Are the everything of eternity.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 7:08 PM UTC
A prophecy arose
Within the silhouette of dawn
how the hollow skylines pirouette
along fate’s bowels
gliding in smooth succession
Whilst sampling memories
of Japanese cherry blossoms
moths fervently surround
Diverse symmetries
of porch lights
Reveries
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 6:25 AM UTC
time has a scent
that's quite different
from bitter lemon zest
to cool peppermint
like that of sidewalk chalk
heavy rains keep washing off
time comes in many colors
beyond that on the box
sampling a taste
pouring out in waves
time is a surgeon
set to operate
is a makeshift shelf
where life's books are held
to one day be read
by somebody else
time is all of these
among many other things
but most of all
time is the cruelest of thieves
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
Young Americans, all volunteers
Sampling English women and English beer
Over sexed, over paid and over here
In the scrubby bit next to Sally's house there used to stand another cottage. If you scrape away some soil you can find floor bricks. A german fighter tailed some bombers back, shot one down as it made its final landing approach.It crashed short, demolishing the cottage. When Sally first moved in there were bits of metal laying around and dials hanging in the trees. An old boy turned up one day, a surviving crew member. They gave him some bits of his old plane to take home.
On planes with names like
Frivolous Sal, Dauntless Dotty
Million $ Baby, Memphis Belle
Sylvia was a child during the war.They saw a german fighter shot down, the pilot managed to open his chute. He walked up to their house, knocked on the door and gave himself up. Sylvia's dad marched him down to the Police Station.
Braving the freezing hostile skies
Thousands and thousands of you guys
How can we thank you
After you've died?
Next to Diane's house, hidden in the trees are the remains of nissen huts built as accommodation for the airmen. Not much left after 70 years, a few concrete block walls. Now and again she used to see some misty-eyed old guy gazing into the trees.
Long after you're gone
The land remembers
Bears the scars
Of those few years of turmoil
David is a gardener in our village, nice guy, should have retired by now. Don't think his father ever kept in touch.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
The thaw begins with a drip,
builds to a roar, subsides to sunlight
prisms playing over every surface
illuminating still-wet velvet wings
maroon and yellow, neon blue
pseudo-bark underneath.
In the clear-cut, pink fireweed
pierces a sky alive with souls
reveling in their last year on earth
sampling nectar with newly curled
tongues while summer degrades
to fall, burrowing in the cool
damp cord of fir put up for winter
awakening in spring, tasting summer
before the reprieve, too soon over
time come to fold
battered wings, to slip free
of this mourning cloak and rise.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC