"scabies" poems
Upon a morning dreary
I took a **** which left my ******* weary
I wiped
I flushed
I exited the bathroom blushed
Twelve hours passed
Since that horrid **** left my ***
And low and behold
A smell flowed to my nose
Just as a burning arose
Underneath my *******
I knew too late the **** had stained
The flesh, my taint tucked under my ******** train
ONE WIPE WAS NOT ENOUGH...
Pretty soon around six o'clock
There came upon my door a knock knock knock
And who was there?
Who did I hear calling to my ears?
It was the *** positive, gonarreah infested, scabies encrusted, syphilis ridden, transexual sex-kitten I had started a relationship with over Craig's List
Now, listen children carefully to this...
***** tucked hisher's lips around hisher's teeth
And began a ******* that could make the Hulk weak
But it was over in a jif
When ***** caught a wiff
And that little sneak
Took a pervy peak
At the feces widely spread underneath
***** RAN AWAY CRYING
I was laughing so hard I thought I was dying
That pesky little poo
Left on hisher bottom lip
Made that entire bathroom trip
FULLFILLING
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
It was one of those unfair things
like scabies or head-lice.
Although it can happen to anybody regardless of precautions
by the time you realize it has happened to you
It is too late.
Despite having no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed,
She was
...and felt awkward too.
Similarly, she wanted to hide herself away from the world until she was cured and rid of the irritation.
Being jilted ******
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
you might have to stare into neutrons
to un-bond the Marmaduke con
your large doggerels are farcical in a feline fashion.
what harm you do -
fondles the rabid scabies
of our scathing
debutantes.
we are
an affront to the baklava
where the syrup is fierce
and yet the spirit
is amber
locking swift Hymenoptera
into place....
you might have to stare into space
to see me...
but be me,
and you might
gain a wee thing as fabulous
as when we bent knees to no god
but had demons
in our **** larceny.
you polished the rogering,
you foggy bogged
the biscuit.
had your druthers whisk
the cinch a
bit.
till we nipped, went.
had our coffee
spent.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
Golden skies and grass greens,
ribbons and threads and legacies,
heavens and harlots, power and age.
It's all flames in the end, isn't it?
All words, all swords, fall so, perfectly.
And like a cancer, you can eat the cigarettes' so sweetly,
all the champagne flowing so freely,
And when we wait for our Paris.
Life makes you intoa a creatures below, surprisingly like mosquito in summer
eating in the garden of fire, to live happily.
It's all smokes and shadows tomorrow,
and it falls like a cold shaped drink, like a dollar
swinging, settling, hoping to be taller, but falling
in our hangover and faded like-memories
in the black morning, of anxiety and sorrow.
Just eating in the garden of fire,
dragons, vampires, pirates and scabies.
All from a broken shaped bottle with ***** like choices,
liars of empires, sweats of angels and children,
it all flames in the end, in the garden of fire, isn't it?
But when the wind turns north,
will you turn and know, when the rich
and the wicked find no more?
If we slowly find the money isn't the answer to all things,
and the battles, bills, and blessings don't become our idols
maybe eternity, will overflow, we can lie down in grass so green,
and like mountains, like kings, we will find happiness so free.
Surely in meadows and forests, witches and wickedness,
anger and bitterness, will be song so forgotten once we are so free.
We will eat the richest cheese, running into homes of orphans,
we can cause them to be such kings, alive and well and so happy.
Before the end truly comes, in time and reason, a new healing,
king and throne, with eyes so weary, knees and backs so heavy,
we will remember, like a song so catchy, a life set free.
Jul 5, 2022
Jul 5, 2022 at 3:52 PM UTC
You're in my head; you're in
Like rabies.
I've got you under my skin,
Like scabies.
You broke my heart; you're heart-
Attacking.
You crack me up. I ****
I'm cracking.
Sep 28, 2024
Sep 28, 2024 at 11:28 AM UTC
Such an abatement of voices creep sparingly, verily I tell you, they shall be accrue in the mornings dew!!
Acquaint me on mine wrongs, thank me for mine songs I subdue!!!
They are just registry's of what's real and what's not!!!!
Must you haveth natural air to breathe? Annotater of annunuity. Apprentice fakes overtake innocent babies where the unnatural scabies infest the freshest of human skins.
Carrouse all your symptoms away. You leader, you fearer, you murderer by day!!!
Your one charitable cent gives to noone, for someone in thy heavens watches your do's and donts!!!!
Sure you won't infest beyond breed. You striver to succeed, your alive today aren't thou?
Grant it, you don't look it....
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Cuter than those
With the plague, or rabies,
Or fungusy toes,
Or a bad case of scabies,
Or one extra nose,
Are zombified babies.
O.O
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
because of too many nightmares I’m visited by the dead
those familiar persons with ordinary words
with hobbies and bad habits
so homy /
we ride together on the horse or in the small car
we fall asleep in the bed from the doll’s house furniture
it’s too ridiculous / I am too old
to wear a dandelion flower on my chest
as a mourning sign for the sun of my childhood
when I gathered in my hands small hearts from shepherd’s purse weeds
to grow roots in another place eventually
since I have wandered on the straight road
I hide under my softly lined coat
my arms tattooed by lightnings still lively
my blood dripping in the dust
sticking like scabies onto my shoe soles // I am ashamed
to take off my shoes to follow the shortcut
the gate has moved altogether with its pillars
on the other side of the road /
I tighten my fist under the sleeve
I bend my knees and crouch
near the deserted well with the cry of a white lamb
whiter and whiter
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
Plush gadget men, strapped with rounded green circular things, pig's of high class weapon. Mustard seed, to ghastly. Their deed's ***** and satire flaming. Guillotine wagon's to be put into FEMA cache camp's, the 200 million man army to cometh, a false prophet to bloweth mind's, wherein crime wilt seemeth as a prize to the suckling babies.. Rat's and scabies to infest the white pillar mansion! **** thy cigarette's and fathom, what thy blue bowling ball couldst hath been. Calleth it greenhouse gas, I sayeth get out the gas mask's and survive the fan flying ship's!! Martial law to be given as commandment's, citizens shalt turneth **** normal wilt be blood running down thy alleyway signs reading (STOP) the red paint to be the mark of the martyr's, desolate and slaughtered. The day wilt be shorter, as night to colden longer. Suicide vests to be strapped to the terrorist chest, as mothers turneth against brother's, and sister's against father's! Heart's wilt faulter the man's conscious thinking, the skeleton's wilt be stinking, as the maggot's of hell doth rise ... New age Rome to collapse as a domino on grandma's stove. À triumphant death, the devil wilt smile, until his days art outnumbered by the chariot riders, of Jehovah's miracle Mile..........
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophetic poetry
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Plush gadget men, strapped with rounded green circular things, pig's of high class weapon. Mustard seed, to ghastly. Their deed's ***** and satire flaming. Guillotine wagon's to be put into FEMA cache camp's, the 200 million man army to cometh, a false prophet to bloweth mind's, wherein crime wilt seemeth as a prize to the suckling babies.. Rat's and scabies to infest the white pillar mansion! **** thy cigarette's and fathom, what thy blue bowling ball couldst hath been. Calleth it greenhouse gas, I sayeth get out the gas mask's and survive the fan flying ship's!! Martial law to be given as commandment's, citizens shalt turneth **** normal wilt be blood running down thy alleyway signs reading (STOP) the red paint to be the mark of the martyr's, desolate and slaughtered. The day wilt be shorter, as night to colden longer. Suicide vests to be strapped to the terrorist chest, as mothers turneth against brother's, and sister's against father's! Heart's wilt faulter the man's conscious thinking, the skeleton's wilt be stinking, as the maggot's of hell doth rise ... New age Rome to collapse as a domino on grandma's stove. À triumphant death, the devil wilt smile, until his days art outnumbered by the chariot riders, of Jehovah's miracle Mile..........
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophetic poetry
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
you're under my skin
you're a tick
you're scabies
you shouldn't be here
you're irritable
get out
get out
get out
I don't want you here
you're in my blood
you're in my veins
you're my ******
so bad for me
but so good
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
Throughout my life I swear I've heard it all ,
That white mommies don't have brown babies.( guess we showed them mom)
It is just a rash, um yea, you know that's scabies?
That havin rhythm is just the same as birth control.
Just take one hit.... May as well go on and sell your soul .
The infamous, nothing is ever as bad as it may seem.
Remember there is no I in the word team.( but there's is one on win hehe)
Don't act like your **** don't stink.
The classic, the end is closer than we think.
There is no such thing as a stupid question... Yea Right!
We all look the same if we turn off the light.
It will only hurt for a minute( well that really depends now doesn't it)
The water is not cold..go ahead jump in it.
To the shamless, don't worry I promise I'll call.
Let me stop right there, cuz really now I've heard it all
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
(16+)
Come sit down my child
whilst I tell you a little story,
about the son who was a wicked boy
and how he fell from glory.
It was upon a dark Sunday evening
betwixt the eleventh hour and the twelfth,
that our young boy
paid a fleeting visit to his sister, who was very ill of health.
Suffering, and weak with scabies,
pale skinned and lay bare on her bed,
thy demonic ******* was excited by her submission,
so laid her 'til she was dead.
And upon the following morning,
there was not a sound of his grieving
but that of his tired yawning,
as he put back on his clothes
wiped up the fingerprints
and carefully cleaned up her robes.
Because even he knew
that this secret little interest
was an illegal, sordid, act
of malicious ****** -
And so, seven long days after,
at the funeral he paid his dutiful respects
to the girl he'd fantasised about for countless years -
grinning sickly on the inside,
but still managing a few small tears.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Scathed infected scabies
Rapper's turned **** rock and roll robot babies
Tomorrow wilt come?
Maby,
If I let it to be!!!
Drowned at sea
Bushed by curse
Raised in the outlands
Cities make it's church
Soldier turned killers
They've swept the faraway ditch
Where mothers give sons bombs
And religion the devil made his *****
The towers will bop and crumble
The dollar shalt be naught
Fakers will turn makers
Judges shalt turn cop
Rob as thou wilt
Smile as thou ****
Valuation shalt be thy stake
Break it or to make it
An open grace heartache
For as thou left thy king
Or forgot thy queen
Thine own god shalt forget thou
As many are seeking Savior's
The answers in the clouds!!!
Mixed in technological doom
A cell to every door
No missing of scented rooms
Just blanch of old day war!!!!
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
a summer bloomer
treats leprosy and scabies
Pincushion Flower
Aug 10, 2022
Aug 10, 2022 at 9:26 PM UTC
AGUILAR
But a happy few
Broke from our cages and were spared for slaves,
Within the warlike clutch of Na Chan Can.
My freedom have your wax and honey bought.
One stubborn soul, Guerrero, stays behind.
CORTÉS
And with slave’s ransoms, we must rescue him.
AGUILAR
He will not come.
ALVARADO You must mean “could not,” man.
What exile, broiling in the pits of hell
Is tossed a rope from heaven and will not come?
Your Spanish rusted in these humid airs.
AGUILAR
These Mayas have seduced him to their cause.
When I confronted him, he spoke to me:
“I am a wartime chieftain, and their judge,
And see how lovely are my wife and sons!”
Three handsome half-castes nestled at his hip.
“You go,” he said, “and may God go with you.
But black tattoos have spiraled round my eyes,
And broad, thick discs now pierce my ears and lips.
Would Christians welcome one so scarified?”
CORTÉS
God only scorns the scars of souls.
OLMEDO Well said.
AGUILAR
His crabbed wife waved in my face and spat:
“What grimy scarecrow dares provoke my lord?
Shove off!” But our Guerrero caught my arm.
“I’ve warned our Mayas of Castile,” he hissed.
“If Spanish visitations will be suffered,
The scabies of their ‘culture’ will erupt,
And Europe’s slow, inexorable flow
Must soon encrust and case these florid lands
As running wax will coat a candlestick.
Then must I trim Death’s wicks.”
CORTÉS What can that mean?
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
Upon my grave I swear such words.
Not be repeated by men or birds.
By kith or kin.
No mortal sin.
As scabies creeping 'neath itching skin.
Irksomeness and irritation.
Drums be banged in expectation.
May the flowers be bought forth.
So buzzing bees get fed and pollen spread.
The coming.
The going.
All mortals knowing.
Perplexed by the way the world is going.
Purple haze of flower beds.
Man and his minions are losing their heads.
Heralding a missing future.
Of dog show trophies made of pewter.
Bent out of shape.
Somewhat distorted.
Free flying world of buds and bees.
(c)LIVVI
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 9:50 AM UTC
From princess to stranger
I was your darlin' in a manger
Now I cry myself to sleep
I miss my daddy..
Every day I push to go to school
Even they call me of a fool
My mind never really leaves you
If I were to not **** myself they'd boo
At the age of 3 I was looking after babies
You were out getting drunk with scabies
I miss my daddy..
By ten I was figuring life out
Realizing missing you without a doubt
I miss my daddy..
But by the time I turned fifteen
The thoughts of death were mean
They broke in I swear
All the laughs we used to share
You told me to fly high
That you were the only guy in my life
Well in that case
I'll see you soon daddy..
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 11:26 AM UTC