I like a whole lip-smacking smorgasbord of words,
such as preposterous and scrumptious,
sumptuous and curious,
roiling, rambunctious and trumpeting,
priapic, satyric and seraphic,
satyriasis and mimesis. Now this mimesis is the imitative
representation of nature and behavior in art and literature,
which is a pretentious way of trying to say what us writers do.
But hey, we don't just mimic things,
we can be sagacious and salacious, too.
Accordingly, I also like *******, which has a liquid sound,
and I'm not being facetious to suggest that
******* has a close connection to callipygous.
Then, for those who are suspicious of the libidinous,
I also like curmudgeonly and bodacious,
loquacious, precocious and pulchritudinous,
lubricious and fugacious,
scripturient, radiance, iridescence and magnificence,
lissome, lithe and languid (but not too limp),
shimmering and diaphanous, effulgent and evanescent,
flamboyant, fandango and flibbertigibbet,
(although this is difficult to say when you’re drunk),
voluptuous and vertiginous, slithery, **** and glistening.
And when I include crepuscular, strumpet and strawberry,
I may as well add whipped cream
as well, because this can be laid on in dollops,
and dollops is really an excellent word
along with slurping and *******, too.
Actually, I'm very flexible about words,
because in my lexicon, low moaning noises are OK, too.
These sounds come from the chord of creation
which is a sort of reverberation from the time of
primordial ooze, which I would like to squish between my toes.
Then there's protozoa, spermatozoa and also
wriggling flagella everywhere. So there.
But words don't even need to make sense,
because sweet nothings can say everything,
and heavy breathing can be ******,
even rhapsodic, ending in delirium.
Titillating should be in here too, because we all need
some tintinnabulation and tickling of the senses sometimes.
I've also decided that fecund is my second favorite word after love.
Fecund sounds abrupt, but it buds magnificently
in ******* and bellies to burgeon in absolute abundance,
everywhere. This brings me to *******, which I like, too.
I'm also partial to proud words, including bold, bulging and
brazen, along with a bit of swaggering braggadocio.
Then I like some big words, like brobdingnagian,
although I hope I'm not sesquipedalian.
Salivate is a word to celebrate as well,
along with onomatopoeia that helps choose some words here.
Drooling is highly evocative, too,
and it's not being provocative to observe that
even weapons drool when they're in the wrong hands.
And I shouldn't leave out *******, as you would expect,
because ****** is a sort of rippling word
that rhymes with spasm. Both sound deceptively simple,
but by golly, they can be intensely gripping.
And really, it's alright to writhe to this occasion
because all of us writers should endeavor
to have some good writhing in our oeuvre.
Even some bad writhing can be lots of fun, too.
But I almost forgot to mention yearning and burning (with desire)
and vulviform, velvet and venerous.
Yippee, yee har and hollerin' along with other exclamations
of exhortatory exuberance should be in this index, too.
Now. The words I don’t like include no, can’t, never,
stop and mustn’t. Also, irascible and intractable,
unmentionable, ineffable, inexpressible, incoherent,
immutable, impotent and impossible.
Then I don't like importune and misfortune,
and I don't know who thought up unthinkable,
because this is an oxymoron.
Inscrutable is also a complete cop out,
especially when there's no such word as scrutable.
Gawping, gaping, cavernous and cretinous, obsequious,
grovelling, pursed lips, circuitous,
obfuscation and isolation, unpalatable,
cruelty, tyranny and hypocrisy,
should also get the heave-**.
And I definitely don't like parsimonious and mendicant,
which are miserable words.
Quitting doesn't get there either,
and shut the **** up and ******* should also be taboo.
Also, hopeless is, really, well, it's hopeless
because it denies hope, and hope is buoyant and boundless.
I mean, sometimes hope is all we have.
But the word I dislike most is ****,
because this is an insulting word, and
to be taxonomical,
the negative score of this word is astronomical.
Hate is also right up there on this list. Hate is abominable
because it tries to destroy love, and love is indomitable.
Indomitable
is the
mightiest
word
of them all.
Yeah. So there.

Mike T Minehan

Scripturient means violently word obsessed.
How can someone obsessed with words
Not be violent, but not the way you think?
I am scripturient. The molecules that compose
My very blood are the same bits of iron from
A dynasty of stars that lived and died and
Shone their light and faded...some of them exploded.
Exploding stars-violence engineered in my DNA.
But that is everyone. Man. Woman. Whatever.
Violently word obsessed is in my mind.
In the (fictional?) rise and fall of universes.
All the ends and beginnings. Man vs. man.
Man vs. nature. Man vs. God. Man vs. self.
Make and unmake. Heal and then break.
History will dryly report the fall of the Roman Empire,
I will tell you of the last emperor who watched
The world he'd known crumble into ashes.
History will tell you of the Greek Fire used
In the defense of Constantinople.
I will tell you of the fire's reflection in the sea
And the distortions made in the reflection
As men dive into the salt water to escape the flame.
History will tell you what people have done;
I will tell you who they are. The truth is, if
I'm going to be honest, then my words will likely
Be violent. It's not just wars; it's the people who
Shatter each other every day, whether unintentionally
Or for sport. It is the little lie or the denied truth.
Our own minds often torture us. I am word obsessed.
I am scripturient. I came across the word as meaning
"Word obsessed," but then I learned that it meant
"Violently word obsessed." I denied it for a while,
But, if you want to tell the truth of humanity,
You must be violent. Bits of raging stardust
Who can never seem to be at peace. That's us.
Man vs man. Man vs. nature. Man vs. God. Man vs. self.

adjective

1. i never asked to be like this, consumed utterly. when i run out of ink i dip my quill in my own veins and scratch out beautiful, ethereal, unutterable words in crimson. passion and pain are interchangeable in my mind, each one bleeding into the other and through each other.

2. words forge my palace and my prison. i compose poetry and story and power, like a creature possessed. my pen flies across the page, like it has a mind of its own.

3. i run out of space on the page in front of me, filling my notebook, filling innumerable napkins at various cafés with half-formed thoughts and unintelligible scribbles. i ink 3am inspirations and epiphanies on my skin, up and down my arms, a living testament to my obsession, my mania.

4. i must move mountains and i have a teaspoon for a *****.

h.f.m.

Some People don't understand poetry
They think everything has to rhyme
Sometimes I write poems full of mystery
And people say that they're "just fine"
But how can you rate something so deep
Something for which I am proud
Something that came straight from my heart
Why is it so hard to please the crowd?
I truly don't care what people think
But it would be nice to receive some validation
Instead people tell me to do something more productive
But I love making my own creations
I love every poet out there
I feel as if I know you even though I don't
Maybe one day I'll meet you
Maybe I wont
But I want to say thank you
For sharing your souls and your deepest feelings with me
We are a loving community
We all let our hearts run free

Happiness is to work,
To leave all your worries behind.
Happiness is not to tarry,
But hurry towards the climb.
Happiness is being busy,
To rid ourselves of emotional stress.
Happiness is completion,
And not waiting for life's next test.
Happiness is being scripturient,
A word lesser known.
Happiness is sanity in insanity,
Of being workful and forlorn.

Every day had started to become achromic,
There is no joy left to be gained from it,
No matter how scripturient I may be,
At one point I shall run out of creativity,
Everything I see is now in black and white,
I dont even see the brilliance in a moonlit night,
The petals of the rose have all started to wilt,
Leaving my tarnished soul with this feeling of guilt