"shred" poems
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cooes I love you
**** me now *****
shred me you ****** ******
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
Papers, Papers, Papers
Whiter than aching teeth,
Whiter than whites of tilted eyes,
Whiter than funeral wreaths.
My hands shake as I write this,
Filed away myths; Stolen lined sheets
My index finger chained by red tapes,
words mix and ground breaks,
I'm the one the world forsakes
Yellow maize, littered leaves,
all twisted into
black ink and clean sharp white paper blades.
-------"I am in a bit of daze," I tell myself, "look at those flaccid bits;
there lay the logs who use to be the jungle of my childhood dreams."
------"Don't be amazed," I replied, "these leafless branches and twigs are for
your Papier-Mâché degrees."
So I listen to my second self once,
the more logical cynical satirical one,
Treading on the plot of their paper works,
playing crosswords as anxiety uncork
my thoughts turn to the bankable orcs,
just as my career forks
Maybe I should be like my mother,
Marking numbers on a deck of cards-- waltzing with Chance.
Maybe I should be like my father,
Toiling for some rich men's grandson-- seething in Trance.
Maybe I should be like the Other,
Going along with the system-- thanking myself
beneath a cap, a diploma, a piece of paper.
I wore these books like bank notes tuxedoes,
I was promised the world by the credits I borrowed.
Must I go along with the mechanism of their game,
or should I rise up against all odds
Opposing, debating, rebelling against
this bundle, this trouble, funneling me into no-tomorrows
Or must I write it all down,
in my prayers against their lawyers, who need no reminds
Or must I shred, smear, and tear the papers with my own bare hands
But what will I ever be to them, friends?
A papercut, perhaps.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
You a ***
You a ***
You a ***
An nothin bout it,
For more information please contact poison control at 647-866-1219
Cause ***** you eaten too much ****
So pazass yo ***
Or I shred yo ***** like grass
Or nah
Gratata,
Dis aint nothin but raw
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
the first day i spent in
Venice, CA
i bought the 2 most
ster e o typical
things
Number 1
was my medical marijuana license
Number 2 was my skateboard
I’m not very good
at skateboarding
but when you shred
on the boardwalk
people get out of your way faster
and thats really all i wanted
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
I am writing this just to keep sane
Stop switching lanes and deal with the pain
I’m going to stay same and never give in to shame
I don’t see this as a game, what I’m saying is real
That’s why you feel every line that I spill
Every emotion comes from the notion
That we are the panacea for the poison
Explosion of our hearts started with the sparks
That ignited our greed amidst the dark
So now we find ourselves led by the misled
Bred like a hoard of cattle waiting to be shred
We focus on materials and ignore the cries
‘Cause it’s easier to watch from an iPad, as a baby dies
We work, struggle, and beg for a promotion
Instead of pouring our hearts into a positive devotion
Every person fueled by their own ambition
And integrity is at loss on our way to this mission
By Vladislav Vagner
http://www.poemjunction.net
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Since Christmas they have lived with us,
Guileless and clear,
Oval soul-animals,
Taking up half the space,
Moving and rubbing on the silk
Invisible air drifts,
Giving a shriek and pop
When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling.
Yellow cathead, blue fish ----
Such queer moons we live with
Instead of dead furniture!
Straw mats, white walls
And these traveling
Globes of thin air, red, green,
Delighting
The heart like wishes or free
Peacocks blessing
Old ground with a feather
Beaten in starry metals.
Your small
Brother is making
His balloon squeak like a cat.
Seeming to see
A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it,
He bites,
Then sits
Back, fat jug
Contemplating a world clear as water.
A red
Shred in his little fist.
12.3k
son spreads knee blood into ******* &/or
sidewalk chalk.
mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphalt.
of god & country.
of soggy bread in a lunch-bag; snackpack readied.
he skates.
the concussed ****** of booming youth.
omega he:
to the wolf pack outers.
breathing love of summer, he
is the son drunk on hi-c
& burping.
watching teenaged supersoakers yodel
on a bridge.
florida.
son sneaks out late to rationalize
the city’s features
under strange light & love of nightly people.
boy sculpts body out of beast,
turned dark corners.
arrives swollen.
his father erects a roofed flattop in the backyard slab
with flood light electronics taught to worship
the shred.
mother rattles the blender
on the kitchen outskirts, ***** breathed
& nearing with hugs.
blister-itched.
glossed folds of scar tissue.
those days on summer-beyond when the neighborhood pulsates.
with satellite dishes tuneforking high-frequency vibrations
from outerspace & pigeons explode.
son’s ears bleed, &
the television goes unwatched.
he snaps plank & ankle protein, refurbishing
his legs into iron-rods
or wands of summer anthem.
cold war.
he empties sugar-sweat & toxins
into the storm-drain.
essence of wet heat, skin pinched, & friend
of ghosts.
a three legged dog lay in the shade
leisurely watching the boy skate
on endless.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
I hear the carve of oars,
I see your palms enfold the wood,
as shards of stars shred
a black and glistening wave.
I hear the carve of oars,
the shore is breached,
we reach dank granite stairs, climb
a tower in moon gritty light.
I hear the carve of oars,
you speak, your turgid cheek
blue-steel-gray, your gaze grates,
my salt raged eyes summon waves and stars.
I hear the carve of oars,
waves rattle a candle's flame,
chill the bed frame, the wet stony room ––
the door closes, it scrapes.
I hear the carve of oars.
I know your lurching gate,
the clank as oar lock’s turn.
You slip the shore.
I hear the carve of oars
Copyright © 2002 Gary Brocks
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
The Fire-Brush is alive as the wind blows around,
Causing their seeds to be flung abound.
The wind turns red and seeds shred the sky,
My face is filled with ****** specks and I see the air dance with the red and blue of July.
The blush of the tree I sit in shakes,
As the firey skies make the blue trees bark quake,
And the crimson seeds overtake.
The wind then blows pass with all the fire brushes spawn,
Letting the sky clear like a new dawn.
I, swaying in the blue trees red leaves smile,
as I take off all the seeds from me.
I looked up to see the cloudless sky,
And gaze at magnificent red, yellow and blue sunset.
The seeds then glow red in my hand, and I smile,
because now I have a night light waiting for the dawn.
I look down at the brush and see the red gone,
All taken by the wind, all the seeds to be spread on,
All to be thrown across the world for the brush's lineage to give spawn.
Now I wait for the dusk and the moon,
Letting the Fire Brushes seed shine,
As I wait for that faithful dragoon.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 3:20 PM UTC
Submerged in darkness, a shimmering shred of light reaches
Gasping for air, yet I am still breathing
Struggling, yet I am still moving
Drowning – Yet I am still alive
In fear, but not frightened
So confused, so unclear
Even in my dying breath I yet again find myself thinking
Again and again…
Obsessed I think I am, but how can I not be?
After inhaling every breath,
After our childish scuffles,
I am still trapped down this lonely abyss
Away from the land – Away from you
I’m still drowning
Only now in solitude do I find that I’m least alone,
Spending every second walking back through memories,
Memories that are already fading
Do I still love you? I don’t even know
The first 5 days was agony,
In the 2nd week all I could do was think of you,
It was 1 month and I was still…
The 2nd month came and I thought I was better,
The 3rd month I was scared because I was forgetting you –
Where had all those sweet memories gone?
The 5th month…
That shred of light never reached me…
I drowned.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
time and tide waits for none
nor does the soldier of the battle won
swift as the light that pass
the mist crept the landmass
thunder and lightning left out
when the major called out
ahoy! all brave men
the sons of the Ganges terrain
reach out to the far north
where the enemy slept forth
show no mercy for you'l receive none
feel no pain and march as one
here's the ensign to raise up aloft
think of the weary deeds that you've got
let the din of cannon shred
the rhythm to carry you in right tread
never panic when the men grew wear
wave the standard to shook the fear
never misjudge the foe as weak
but remember your oath to our peak
never fall when ponderous struck
never halt when stark strike
fight till your warmth is turned icy
then the hawkish eyes will see
the unbeaten soul stamped on Indian lads
the mortal's robes you 've clad
holds the blessings of thousand
which will retain your soul and
spirit even when the tricolor is laid
on the honored graves made
hold tightly like limpet
till success is met
march brave Indians with gusto
and show them you are a maestro
draw your sword across
to pierce the devil's heart across
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
THE POETRY SERIES
*It is the poetry of little things that causes the earth to shred and shudder
The poetry of little things that ignites the greatest moments of bliss.
A smile from a little child,
A chuckle from a stranger.
The warmth of a knitted family
The entwining of old friends
The humming from the sea shores
The journey of the moonlight
The waves, the traveling waves
The Sea, the meandering sea
The Earth, the boundless earth
And the sweet song that nature sings.
These little things, garnered with the greatest love
Observed in silence
It is this poetry,
The poetry of little things that elicit the greatest happiness*
Ovi Odiete© All right reserved
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 7:28 PM UTC
-lights out-
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous
ecstasy like a shot of ****** or morphine,
the gland inside of my brain discharging
the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as
i hap-down and hold all my body parts
down to a deadstop trance-Healing
all my sicknesses-erasing all-not
even the shred of a 'I-hope-you' or a
Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind
blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought
comes a-springing from afar with its held-
forth figure of image, you spoof it out,
you spuff it off, you fake it, and
it fades, and thought never comes-and
with joy you realize for the first time
'thinking's just like not thinking-
So I don't have to think
any
more'
8.2k
All from you, every last shred
of my natural state, the tendencies by which I’m led
How can one say to another,
“You’re odd and make me uncomfortable... so I won’t love you brother.”
I won’t strive to understand or with your differences sympathize
or turn my judging lens toward my inside.
For you have a large speck deep in your eye,
and good thing I’m here to judge and criticize,
for your weaknesses bother me,
and I expect from you better,
I’m here to dot your vowels
and make sure you cross your letters.”
What do you have that has not been given you,
from our dear King Jesus above?
Oh Lord help us treasure You more than ourselves,
and abide in Your sweet and unconditional love.
Aug 18, 2010
Aug 18, 2010 at 5:02 PM UTC
shred, dash, drop, pinch, soupçon, jot, iota, whit,
atom, smattering, scintilla, hint, suggestion, tinge,
a modicum of good works,
my endeavor, to serve and deliver,
man's bounty of good words
from my kitbag,
fresh, hot, n' crusty
just like me....
Hello Poetry!
Feb 2014
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
there are bones between my teeth
moonlight glimmering in my eyes
dried blood in my nails, in my hair
my head pounding (thump. thump. thump.)
you know they say blood is thicker than water but that just means blood is more likely to stick in my throat
coughing up family ties one by one
glistening red memories, leaving only a metallic aftertaste
sick nightmare fantasy of ripping open bodies
im the monster in your fairytale stories
lets do a bit of editing, perhaps?
lets shred the whole **** book, perhaps?
lets set fire to the town, perhaps?
im tired of pretending to be your precious child, perfect student, "the innocent one"
i want to paint obscene material in your blood (in the name of art, of course)
@god do you ever feel unreal? are you even real? am i?
no i have to be real, I can feel the blood dripping down my arm, the bones cracking in my spine
im real. im real. im real.
everything hurts!!!!! fuCK i cant wait to rip you all to shreds !!!!!!
T H I S I S N O T A D R E A M
walking on eggshells is far more difficult with digitigrade legs, im not gonna try to be nice anymore
i dont need to be nice anymore
why be nice when you can **** why just **** when you can slaughter?
nobody can stop me from lighting up the post office,
nobody can stop me from gouging out your eyes
im no god but im closer than you
im no angel but you might be soon
close your blinds, lock your doors
big bad wolf is back again
bigger, badder, better wolf
greater, darker, madder wolf
teeth like knives and claws like daggers
six golden eyes staring into your soul
oh right, thats me!
i m i n y o u r h o m e
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
He held my hand today in the most delicate way,
as if my fingers resembled flower petals and my
palm reenacted butterfly wings. My hand felt
fragile in his grip, which mimicked my feelings
towards him because his heart did not belong
in the spaces between my touch - his heart
belonged in something as light as air; something
as delicate as cotton. And my heart was tattered
with thorns, assured to shred his into pieces. All
the more treacherous, he traced my fingers be
tween my mittens, and it still felt like fabric -
contrary to your inevitable static. And that is
when I knew that even though he did everything
right, he made it that much worse. As much as he
tried, my frost-coated lips challenged the warmth
in his voice, and it wasn't me he needed. It was I
that needeth not deserve him.
gd
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
8th grade.
That was the year everything
went to hell.
That was the year I went on a diet.
I decided to shed
my last shred
of dignity,
along with 60+ pounds
in order to impress the boy with the dark, curly hair.
That was the year I lied to my parents.
"Did you eat dinner?" they asked.
"Yes," I replied,
and they believed me.
They couldn't tell
that something wasn't quite right
with their perfect little girl,
who was starving for the perfect body,
and for attention from the boy with the dark, curly hair.
That was the year teachers began to ask questions.
Mr. May, with the spiky hair and burly arms,
glanced suspiciously at my pale skin,
eerily translucent and decorated with bruises.
Mrs. Fitz, who had recently been on a diet herself,
always made sure that I had a lunch,
although she never made sure I ate it.
Mrs. ***** a small woman with a big personality,
used to make comments about eating disorders
just to get a rise out of me,
and when that didn't work,
she went a step farther.
Mr. Daley, the 7th and 8th grade guidance counselor,
consumed every lie I fed him,
and when I grabbed a Jolly Rancher off his desk
on my way back to class,
he smiled with triumph,
as if he had cured me,
but he didn't see me throw it away
as soon as I got home.
Those extra 15 calories
would have ruined my chances with the boy with the dark, curly hair.
That was the year I couldn't leave the house without a sweater
because, even on the warmest day, I couldn't stop shivering.
That was the year all of my hair fell out.
That was the year I lost most of my friends.
That was the year everything went to hell
because of a boy with dark, curly hair.
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
Oh, how I delight in the taste
of my lover’s scent
as she cries out my name!
In my arms, a slender orchid
worshiped to soft placidity,
she murmurs
do I still yearn for my virginity?
And I whisper, my love,
ten thousand times
ten thousand times, no.
For what we tender feel in lost virginity
is not for lost virginity alone
Not for a shred of skin or a drop of blood;
what human being mourns this?
That small ***** we feel
is the eternal mortality
of all lost first experiences.
Then let us thank the Gods they spare us,
for now,
our last virginity.
Think now upon the family and friends
we have lost
to disease or hunger, to time
or accident, to addiction or war.
How shall we remember them
if not their names?
How shall we speak of them?
Will you remember me?
Or shall I become as dust in this temple?
Loudly, all my loves, hear me,
come now with me!
Let us leave this temple for a time,
walk with me to my secret garden
where we shall remove these robes
and look upon one another
with the gift of acceptance
and where
we shall place flowers in our hair.
Where we shall hold hands
and walk a bit farther
to the river and bathe one another
in the moonlight.
Then let us return here to celebrate
the memory of the fallen
as the Gods intended.
Let us remember the names,
let us speak the names and lest we forget,
cry out their names.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
**** me
just **** me
I want you inside me
Oh how I've wanted you
dreamed of you
our bodies intwined
breathing heavy
You don't have to take it
easy on me
I can handle it
Put your hands on me hold me down and choke me
just choke me
oh please be rough with me
I wont fight you
I'll let you right in
Kiss me
just kiss me
flick your tongue against mine
kiss me all the way
down my body
oh how I long for you to touch me just touch me
touch me there
make me shake
and beg for you to stop
torture me with your fingers
get me all excited
And wanting
raise my hips to meet yours
and smile at me
that smile that makes me weak
And flustered at the same time
that one that leaves me wondering
I don't know
what you're going to do
to me
but it doesn't matter
just do it
I want you
to do it all to me
claim me
Just claim me
in every single way
release yourself on me
I can take it
I want it
give it to me
please give it to me
show me how much you want me
just want me
need me
love me
push me to my limit
take me over the edge
make me scream your name
press into me
sO hard
I can't breathe
oh how i long to feel you
feel me
Just feel me
close your eyes
and gasp on me
Lay on top of me
don't let me move
Take control of me
oh how I want to taste you
your sweat
your seed
gut me
just gut me
Cut me into pieces
splitter me
shred my innocence
open me up
And spread me apart
look at my insides
At how you make
my heart race
blood boil
organs tense
by the way
You **** me
just **** me
show me
how much you
love me
just love me
please just love me
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
The princess who chose
To live in exile
Holding the hand of her husband
With a beautiful smile
Framed in a guile by Ravan
But she didn't fall in his wicked ways
Despite being held captive
And tortured for nights and days
She refused to go with Hanuman
When he came to rescue her
Insisted that Rama come openly to defeat her captor
In Rama's honor exile did she prefer
On the Ravan's defeat - to prove her purity
She had to walk through fire
But the flames neither touched her body
And nor her attire
The fire bowed in her honor
But that wasn't enough
For the clouds of gloom
Were towering above
The world has never been fair to women
Despite of proving her purity
Sita had to leave
It was the height of cruelty
Cause Rama was as weak
In the face of his men
As strong he was
In front of Ravan
Rama- the man
Sita loved enough to die for
Asked her to leave
To the path that led abhor
Just imagine the way Sita would be looking at Rama
With whom she had to part
For he was standing dumb like a statue
When her world was falling apart
Would she have accused or looked down at him
As she asked mother earth to swallow her
She was going back to where she came from
In order to save the last shred of her honor
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
All throughout History,
It's always been a mystery.
The most unlucky of days,
On this day we change our ways.
Careful what we do,
Careful when we tie our shoe.
Stay in and lock your door,
Don't get up off the floor.
Black cats and spilled salt,
The broken mirror is not my fault!
Avoiding ladders and a sidewalk crack,
Being on guard we do not lack.
Some say it's a day of fun,
Others shiver, hide, and run.
Some say it's black magic that comes out today,
Some say that it's demons here to stay.
Whatever your superstition on this very day,
Everyone's wits will shred and fray.
The day of bad luck comes only so often,
Let's just pray it doesn't lead to a coffin.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
I
pant at your sheer beauty
after the first sighting
in silence
I
crave and cradle your innocence
unnoticed
I
thirst to drink
from the source of your well
reluctantly
I
quiver a cowardice illusion
of the first move
from an awry smile of ignorance
I
steal your beauty and shred
Your body to pieces
unreachable you are torn from
a
silhouette desire
in
a damaged Magazine
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
Inspiring Needle, pierce his fresh Leather,
Inscribing Earth's Totem into his Birth
Mum was Happy; What else could be better
For such Achievement as well as your Worth
So what if you Ascend?! Can you improvise
Those Loyal Customers who bought your Face?
Good Lord! Just on the lower-arm-set's Tripe,
Crypted to prevent another Disgrace
Envy? Me? Please! Not on my Word's Best Site
Will I even Dare to take such Sour Note
As I once reminded myself in-spite
For every Storm there is a Shred of Hope.
Three Figures picturesqued on certain Price
That Midnomer then showed his Biggest Size.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
I am a chameleon
Black, white, red or blue I’ll be whoever you want me to.
In therapy I’m told it’s because I don’t know who I actually am, but the thing is there I am also a chameleon.
While sitting in that uncomfortable leather chair I’m a girl unsure- broken by the weight the world places on my shoulder but outside of that room I’m more sure of myself then I am sure of the laws of gravity.
I am a chameleon
Most days my name is Emma, other days its Emilia and on the rare occasion its Ellie. It may seem a little odd to you to have so many different names but I think it’s because I truly am different people.
See Emma is serious, but she has a fun side, while Emilia is fun with a serious side. Ellie is that broken girl from the uncomfortable chair while Emilia is always smiling never feeling an ounce of pain. Emma, well she’s broken too, but in a different way- that dosen’t matter much though because there is no way in hell she will let anyone see that.
I am a chameleon
But not in a disingenuous way. I’m not trying to lie or make you like me. Don’t get me wrong, I want you to like me, but I learned long ago that no matter how hard I try there will always be someone who doesn’t.
I am a chameleon
Because I love you so much it hurts, that’s why I want you to have a version of me you flel in love with. The person I truly am changes with the tide- she is far to disconcerting. So for you I will pretend that I find “Grey’s Anatomy” enjoyable or that I like eating eggs because you deserve some shred of consistency.
I am a chameleon
I hide from the world by blending into the background- it’s safer that way. Not just for me, but for you to. That way I can only show the parts of me that is safe for you to see. The heaviest pieces that have caused so many people to run will remain invisible.
You tell me you want to see. You tell me that you want to carry my burdens. The thing is, others have tried but, eventually, they are all crushed under the weight of my brokenness. So, I am not afraid that you will leave, I am afraid that you will stay.
I am a chameleon
Because I choose to be. See if I blend in then you can’t get too close to me. The farther away you are, the less it will hurt should I disappear and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.
So…
I am a chameleon
Because I haven’t truly decided if I am going to stay yet.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC