"slags" poems
Id love a big fat ****
Or a wrinkled up old bag
An ugly looking hag
Who wants a ******* ****
If I had a big fat ***** with a big fat bucket
I'd lay between her fleshy thighs, and definitely **** it
My thrusting **** inside her **** is where I'd like to tuck it
Spunking up would be sublime, when I lick and **** it
When your about to **** the fat, it takes a certain knack
Stuffed up fishy **** ***** or **** ******* round the back
A nice piece of chunky **** with a big long sweaty crack
Fatty *** holes make you hard ,my **** would not be slack
I would ride a big large Gal, just like a waterbed
Bathroom ******* would be fun, as well as in the shed
Spunking up between her legs, cream cheese would then be spread
When both holes are full of *** she can **** my **** instead
And after I have finished, with all of those fat *******
Something different I would want, maybe some old wrinkled witches
All wearing apple gatherers, and big large ******* britches
Older ***** long overdue, scratching long lost itches
A lot of fun I could have, in an old folks place
Disrobed willing grannies ***** stuffed right in my face
At least eight bits of gristle ****** a display of my disgrace
With each granny ****** in turn, if they can stand the pace
As I lift their skirts up their knickers I would sniff
I'm hoping that old fannies good, and they don't smell or whiff
The smell of old used granny **** is probably just a myth
But I won't let it bother me, as long as I get stiff
I wouldn't even care, if they wore crap NHS glasses
As long as I could **** and *** inside there wrinkled arses
I would **** them old ****** , all from different classes
Some of them in wheelchairs and some with heart bypasses.
It's irrelevant how fat you are, I really do not mind
As long as you are willing, and your pussy's wet and kind
And if you like it up the **** then I'm that way inclined
******* ***** is quite fine, so is ******** from behind
So come on girls fat or old, all slags are a possibility
Your sexuality can flood out, there's no need for negativity
I'm willing to **** who comes along, to the best of my ability
Just make sure that I stay stiff, and maintain my agility
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:44 AM UTC
I've got a Chopper,
You can have ****** *********** with it if you like
It's got a trug, a Jew's harp that rattles the windows
And creatures to make it mosey around crack
I'd stretch jeans cheesecake abutting you if I could, but I used plastic toast
You're the kind of ***** that thrusts into *** my bodiliness
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I've got a disguise it's a torso of a Irish bull
There's a slit high up the skirt Miss World's bra-burner and gross
I've grappled page—3 girl for bouts
If you think Miss Universe could spasm creamy then I guess Mr Universe should
You're the kind of ***** that slides in with my wads
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I **** a chimpanzee and he hasn't got a stage—door Johnny
I don't copulate why I cock—a—doodle—doo him Gerald
He's inseminating à la carte geriatric but he's a voluptuous chimpanzee
You're the kind of ***** that stuffs *** my gallons
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I've got a Welshwoman of pornographic Casanovas
Here a Don Juan, there a Lothario, prognosticators of obscene persons of opposite *** sharing living quarters
Beg a bonk if you be on heat, they're on the back of the *****
You're the kind of ***** that spasms indoors using my lump
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags
I **** custom—built dead men of doo-wop passages
Incognito Muses, faceless ching, most of them are Barbie
Let's **** into the odd kitchenette and **** landlady creature
Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 3:46 PM UTC
going to the horror films
at ten years old
i wanted to be bitten by the vampire ladies
you know the ones
red brides from the netherworlds
with heaving *******
divinities of evil
with that dah look
in silky white gowns
a little messy from sleeping in the dirt
culture vulture goth girls
with upside down crosses
slags all gauzy bats in the belfry
deranged
but after all they where
dead
and dreadfully appealing
and I'm pretty fussy
so what the hell
they walked like floats
in marshy air
never touching the ground
above frozen dark crypt terrains
with twinkly bare feet
and black high glossed toenails
staring out of blood spilled eyes
drooling cloudy mouth hollows
and a yearning hungry countenance
encouraging me
to get closer
to bite me all over
pierce me
with needly fangs
puncturing little holes in tender me
making me leak like bad plumbing
until i sloped into the bog below
of course, i was panicked
all trembly
but i had a big one
for these evil shadowy ******* too
so i thought
yes
no
yes
no
yes
no
are you gonna **** me?
i asked
they drooled
ooow okay, i thought is it gonna hurt?
they shook there heads yes!
and drooled
real bad?
i inquired further
ah ha
they lingered glaring
drooling
i guess, waiting for me to make up my mind
oh okay anything for you
you dark dreamy girls
dilapidated queens of hell
with ballet derrières
"down and down I go
round and round I go
in a spin, lovin' the spin I'm in
under the old black magic called love"
after all at ten years old,
i already knew i was
a horror *****
and just a little turned on
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
you call her a ****
you call her a *****
you tear her skin into tiny shreds
and then beg for more,
your masculinity is fuelled by the sexuality you stripped her of.
she has no right to be liberated in your eyes,
but your eyes also want to see what is in between her thighs,
your respect for her body only exists as long as she is your possession.
a woman is to you what a table is to a person;
something to use,
sometimes a burden.
a woman can't be outspoken without being a *****
but if she's quiet you treat her like ****
you tell us to fight for what we believe in,
but when we do you tell us we're complaining,
(maybe you think I'm complaining)
while you're thinking about that
please mind the wage gap,
yes the wage gap MORE THINGS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT!
I get 75 pence for every pound a man makes,
maybe I'm making mistakes?
no, no I am not.
perhaps some people have forgot
that someone's *** doesn't make them under qualified,
I think your brain is nonaligned,
because right now in two thousand and sixteen a woman should be respected even if she isn't the god **** queen.
I hope you can see what struggles women endure,
we may as well go back years and years and knit at home while you go to war.
I'll just be over here cleaning the entire house,
oh and while I'm at it I'll clean that glass ceiling while waiting for my husband and feeding my offspring
because that's all a woman does right?
cook clean and nurture, and give yourself to your husband at night
God forbid you swing the other way!
single, or worse...
no kids and gay!
women have to fit into perfect cookie cutters.
that, and a size 6
but not too skinny though, men aren't nutters!
big ***** big *** and a small waist
your extra few inches of skin can be erased with diet pills, exercise plans and corsets!
if not, you can choose the forfeit,
of society telling you that you can achieve your dream beach body,
to catch the attention of somebody
preferably a man who can be the bread winner,
while we can stay at home, look after his kids and cook his dinner.
I'll stop complaining now and go back to concealing my blemishes and under eye bags,
while you talk to your friend about how we are still just slags.
~T.T
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
Ryan he likes slags called kim
I wonder if Kim's fat or slim
Is she ugly, is she grim
I guess Kim's good enough for him
Kim she's Ryan's piece of trim
Is it because she licks the rim
Are other slags out on a whim
Maybe their filled up to the brim
Bus stops talk they say so much
They seem to have that magic touch
Slags lives scrawled on shelters hutch
Straight to the point, not double Dutch
No other slags are good enough
perhaps their skanks and far too rough
Slags called Kim, must be so tough
When Ryan does not get enough
Not slags called Julie, Emma or Jane
Jodi and Rachel must be too plain
Just try Michelle, are you insane ?
Limiting tarts is loss not gain
Is Ryan partial to whips and chain ?
And Kim obliges him with pain
Kim must be different with the cane
It's no wonder he wants Kim again
Kim maybe great, from where your stood
She's just a **** who likes hard wood
Come on now Ryan, you know you should
There's other slags that's just as good
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
Lots of ladies there may be, but I haven't had that many
My **** is always active, and I think I would have any
In the past I could have been, just a bit too picky
The art of wanking I did try, but that left my pants all sticky
Some nice **** I would love, or an **** or three
The fairer *** is preferable, cos there's nothing strange about me
It really doesn't seem that fare, when there are many slags
And lots of ugly fat ****** that say they all want shags
But I can not locate any, I wish there was a way
That I could find a nice gal, and not someone that is gay
Nothing against the Lezzers, I'm just not that way inclined
But I'm fed up with wanking, and I don't want to go blind
I would ***** an old gal, with a big fat rounded ****
A squeezable amount of flesh, inside an **** ****
Big fat ****** are welcome, who want it up their bucket
I would like **** your **** and I'd really love to **** it
An **** I could really try, if only the girls would
******* lots of ***** ***** that could be quite good
A large obese girl I would **** with lots of rolls of fat
I'd stuff my **** inside there **** cos there's nothing wrong with that
Ideal worlds would be good, if you could **** the girls you like
But I will settle for a ***** or a well used ridden bike
Even in a ******** they could be a real good ****
If pussy's are full of ***** I'd still **** your *** filled bag
Maybe I could find an old gal who is a real life *****
I would just think so what, and **** her well used *****
After I have loosened up, her tight old ******* hole
I could have a tighter **** with her **** upon my pole
******** the ladies ******** this is always such a dream
Arses will be filled up, and the cat would get the cream
If you want to get ****** and you find any of this thrilling
Get your ***** and arseholes out, ready for a creamy filling
Come on all you fat slags, I'd like to see you naked
And even you wrinkly old bags, to me nothing is sacred
Your ***** cats are required, and your arses are inclined
Fat slags and old bags are still quite hard to find
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
Some days he'll dress in new or old
But with a smile always so sharp
His walking charm will take a toll
When the woman turns to dark
His snaking charm strolls to the pub
Where the slags and twonks *** around
Nothing but warm hands and pint to grub
Where the woman he sees is found
She spits bleeding words from her filthy mouth
As he scorns them back with his hand
The red only cries when she screams in doubt
The snake gives her his looking glan
Someone thought to call for help
But no help had ever arrived
The barman listened to the poor woman's yelp
People pretend she never cried
The smiling man of ruthless charm
Walks down the stairs of death
Vehemence covered with blood and sin
Whereas mannequin slags spread grim
In forms of angelic old and new
His inhibited shape had grew
More evil it grew as his smile knew
His deliverance was joyful harm
He preached to barman to slags to twonks
His ways of nature so brash and ******
From snake to wolf to man dressed well
Even a preacher of God his allure so grand
The cunting ***** bemoaned downwards
Dampened with red paint shrieked foreign words
With her limbs cut open, "Deliverance is God"
Finding it was the charming man who smiled as a sod
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
The game played no longer how it once was
No votes on new posts
don't check the trends
or check your own for views and comments
The substantive roaming data of broken WiFi connections
Mangle your jangling words, hide your swollen faces behind forced smiles, Rembrandt bastardisations or smeared oil paintings of the black soul(less) beasts that lurk in satiate tree shadows fawned over the lawnmower blue cycle rinse washed acid soaked daydream ***** slap nation
So you revere the works once read on poetical facsimile sites
only to smear words of younger wordsmith wrangled teen angst
and now in your age and ardor it seems advantageous to judge
But then that will leave you hollow inside
or in fact, you could jump from a tall building only to bounce off the concrete into a children's pool and drown there in three inches of **** coloured rain water
But so instead the workload decreases as your dementia bedpost nightmares
all come aflutter
The laced lily white throng of petal pinched patterns masks
the marked men on their dusty knees
There, watch how heads explode
or listen to foley artists rendering the lacquered finish of the watermelon headjuice
Make up words
or make up lies
Wear make-up daily, earn some prize
or don't
I don't care
idc
idk
Resemble rhyme or reason
Disassemble the times and season
Return to pejorative pretensions, rants in verse verse verse verse prose format and **** the rest
Or simply return to the old ways of playing the game
Upvote this, and maybe they'll take interest
Comment here
return one there
Use tags, hashtags, wash rags, fat slags, arm chair fat cats
But always separated by spaces, prettyblankspaces
No, I don't do slam poetry, I'm too white and not nearly rich enough to not care
Reassemble the times and season, maybe make sense of it
Maybe not
Just don't let them become a passing trend, please
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
du var ikke den slags
mand der passede ind
i statestikkerne om utroskab
i metroxpress
og du var ikke den slags
mand
med en advarsel
skrevet på ryggen, af en mavesur eks
du var den slags mand
der duftede af kanel
og nyvasket sengetøj og
du var den slags mand
der bar min taske
og lyttede til alle mine ord
og du var den slags mand der holdt mig
i dine arme og tørrede mine salte tårer
af knækket tillid bort fra mine kinder
og du var den slags mand der kunne
sige det med så meget overbevisning
når du sagde at du altid ville være der
men du var også den mand
der gik uden at se sig tilbage....
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
Earlier time's my younger days when I was about sixteen
Awareness of the fairer *** when I was sexually keen
**** time's that I did crave why were the girls so mean
When it came to getting ****** my **** was never seen
I thought about their naked ***** whether fat or lean
Activities in **** arts who cares where thier **** had been
If you get your ******* off making sure your **** is bare
Bending over the bed with your cheeks up in the air
Or knelt upon the sofa with my fingers through your hair
I will stuff my hotdog up inside your Derryair
Too many benders coming out and lots of ugly lags
Never enough willing girls and I could never find no slags
There wasn't any nice girls just ******* ***** bags
All I could attract we're bendy boys and horrible *** hags
Getting blow jobs really ****** my **** was never blown
Lots of Fanny's I would poke but none of them were shown
I didn't get no ***** and my seeds were never sown
Just left pulling on my plonker and wanking on my own
I could have had a blow job from all of those Gay boys
Or offered ******* ******** from dried up hobbledy hoys
But I didn't want a crap **** or play with those boys toys
So I never got to **** to much or make that **** noise
Now I am mid forties and I want the same thing now
I still want to stick my **** in some nice meow.
There's only skanky sourpuss or some old stupid cow
I am still in the same boat I have nothing to plough
I still want some nice ***** I'm still in that same phase
Lots of naked ladies ****** in lots of different ways
I'll have to keep on searching until to my dying days
The line is drawn at hobbledy hoys and most definitely gays
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
Jeg kan høre det milde havskummet,
Det berører bakken så nær hjemmet sitt.
Skjønnhet vevd i sitt rustne gylne hår,
Jeg har ikke kjent henne lenge, men *** lar meg gå på lufta.
Det er noe *** har, en slags nåde,
Det skinner som en gemstone gjennom ansiktet hennes.
Hennes øyne kan være gjennomsnittlig på noen andre,
Men i hennes ser jeg himmelen, et hjerte smelter meg.
*** har barnslig lurer og jeg elsker det så,
Og *** gir av det mest lunefullt lys.
Selv når vi står på den kalde betongen,
Jeg kan se blomster spring opp rundt føttene hennes.
Jeg tror jeg elsker henne, ja, det gjør jeg!
Nei jeg gjør det ikke, det kan ikke være sant.
-Det tynne barnet bak deg.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC
I want to meet a lady and to get my **** well shown
Instead of being a ****** and tossing on my own.
With her lips around my shaft to make me ******* moan.
******* on my bell end like a dog with a big bone.
Polishing my helmet to a shiny glossy tone.
So come on girls fat or thin even glass gets blown.
Even if its an older lass or any big fat slags
An old lady with a trolley or one with shopping bags.
A huge woman with hippo thighs a fat **** that ******* drags.
Big juicy melons to **** on like two large fleshy gags
an ugly toothless ***** or any old *** hags
So lets be fair and **** like ***** even smokers get the shags.
even if your homeless then we can surely meet.
And you have smelly clothing your in for a good treat.
I will get my **** out so you can taste my meat.
I'll **** you in an alleyway so we can be discrete.
I will *** inside your **** so you will feel the heat.
But It really comes something when you can have a *** out in the street.
If you want a bit of sparkle then its your **** i will sup.
And your *** is good then we'll definitely Hookup.
I'll release your big ***** from there double D size Cup
Licking on your cherrys just like a little pup.
I'll **** them like a lolly pop a sweet chuppa chupp.
If you want to have group *** then we'll have a 7up.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 5:04 AM UTC
Ord er vel lige så meget kunst som en streg på et lærred ?
eller er det bare mig der er helt væk
altså jeg tænker bare den måde du formulere dine ord på
den måde du bruger dine ord på
den måde du har taget tid til at vælge det perfekte ord
den måde du tænkt det inden du får det sagt
okay det er ikke alle der tænker før de taler men stadig det er vel os en slags kunst
der sidder nok folk derude og tænker hvad **** taler *** om kunst er noget der hænger på et galleri
der er nok også nogen der kan se hvad jeg mener
for hvad er kunst virkelig ?
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
*my exhibition of lost temper is only shown to those i respect;
for those i am contempt with, i exhort the energy of tact.*
my exhibition of a lost temper is only shown to those i respect, for those i am in contempt with: an exerted show of temperament that says tact is evident; which makes sense hearing my father break apathetic silence in anger on the building site to fathom a solidarity... and me without solidarity break it clean & open... on the gargantuan drums of emotion, to have being a god equate with a ****** ****** for a moment sanctified with “pride” in a miss händel's messiah playing in the royal albert hall and me in the brothel thinking it up in trumpet pistons, well... mickey trump. but how easily i would worship the narrative of a russian cobbler, had i two flats in st. petersburg and a chance to spot gucci and verdi together to **** off the russian slags of tight-nit suspenders... easing a forever-might-we-live face make-up that became surgery... how’s that? i exhibit my anger on people who can encompass the person... not the stage-fright fake personality... blood is veined blue with honour less colder. my exhibition of lost temper is only shown to those i respect, for those i do not: i am contempt in anonymity, and with such anonymity i exert the energy of tact... silenced anger that brews a carbon dioxide fizzling out.. that never does... but burrows deeper than haemoglobin into marrow rather than the veiny aquaeduct; should have let the beast sleep rather than wake it in its full pleasure of a nightmare slept in.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC
hendes læber fangede hans blik
fyldige men sarte som et rosenblad
hendes store øjne med de lange vipper
som et dådyr
grønne som nåle på et grantræ
han stirrede direkte ind i dem
fortabte sig i dybet
hvor han så hendes sjæl
forbløffet over den godhed og rummelighed
han fandt
som en sol der titter frem bag grå skyer
*** var nærmest altid omringet
af en form for lys
glødende
han var taknemmelig for hver en kurve
hendes krop bølgede sig i
maveskindet der var så fint og blødt
hendes lange ben
som bar hende yndefuldt rundt på
jorden
hendes brune lokker
med pandehåret som *** til tider skjulte sig bag
fik hende til at ligne noget fra et
modeblad fra tredserne
og der var en slags ydmyghed
over måden *** bare ikke kunne
tage imod et kompliment uden
at blive forlegen
som om *** ikke selv kunne se
hvor fuldstændig håbløst smuk
*** egentligt er
hendes latter og stemme
sød og skrøbelig
hendes bevægelser der nærmest
var filmiske
som om *** dansede på en scene
han blev fascineret af hele hendes væsen
og fandt hende meget sexet
på en måde som er svær at forklare
han sagde til hende at
*** lignede lidt et kys
og et kys blev *** til
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
og det var sådan en morgen
hvor solen strakte sig i hver en
strengformet sene
jeg kunne mærke sygdommen
havde forladt min krop
jeg lod aldrig tanker omkring
dit spindelvævssind gro fast
i længere tid, vidste det ville
sætte sig som ar på sjælen
den slags man påstår ikke kan
smitte ved berøring
den slags påstande jeg påstår
de forkerte mennesker har påstået
du gjorde mig mere syg end rask
rev celler i stykker og efterlod
bidemærker langs min rygsøjle
jeg græd oftere end jeg grinte
sommetider med tårer i øjnene
andre gange med metalsakse
i håret og øjne af granit
jeg glemte helt hvordan det var
at være alene
da du havde forladt min krop
jeg glemte helt jeg var sindssyg
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
en 'dump ham paa din doermaatte dreng'
en aften
en fyr du elsker med hele kroppen, udover dit hjerte
en fyr du er bange for at love for meget
en fyr hvis smerte du fjerner, kun for at efterlade en ny
en af de fyrer der gentager ham selv 10 gange, fordi han er nervoes
en af de slags fyrer hvis haender sveder naar du holder ham i haanden
en af de slags fyrer der afslutter deres tilbud om et besoeg hos dem med 'men kun hvis du VIRKELIG har lyst'
en af de slags fyrer der er bange for at de vil dig mere end du vil dem
en af de slags fyre der synes det er acceptabelt at komme i dig uden at spoerge om du er paa ppiller
en af de fyrer der tager lidt for haardt fat naar han krammer dig
en af de fyrer du aldrig rigtigt kunne lide, indtil det gik op for dig at du aldrig rigtigt havde ham
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
Are you wanking in your stockings in the halls.
It's time that us guys **** and squeeze our *****
We will ride an ugly old old dear
It's their ***** we want to slay
We'd love to **** you silly for the day
[Chorus:]
So here it is merry **** time
Everybody show your ***
look at our arseholes now
We really need to ***
Are you waiting for the fat slags to arrive?
I'm sure their big ***** have plenty room inside
The old ***** always tell you
That their ***** are the best
And their ***** are better than the rest
[Chorus:]
So here it is, Merry **** time
Everybody show your ***
Look at our hairy *****
We really need to ***
Who are you going to do
When your mother has her bit of a *****
Oooh oo oooh oohh
Are you wanking in your stockings in the halls
We'll **** your old fat mother when she calls
We will **** her on the hillside
That's where she will get laid
We'll *** deep inside her
When her legs are splayed
[Chorus:]
So here it is. Merry **** time
Everybody show your ***
Look at our **** holes now
We really want to ***
So here it is, Merry **** time
Everybody show your ***
Look at *** holes now
We really need to ***
So here it is, Merry **** time
Everybody wants a ***
Take your knickers down
We always need to ***
So here it is, Merry **** time
Everybody wants a ***
(It's **** time!)
Get up her ******** now
We really need to ***
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
Forever Ever or Never
Forever does it exist? Forever is never doesn’t exist. It betrays hearts, breaks bones in its subtle nuances. It takes love, makes it eternal but it’s not. There is nothing just worn down cloth from the gaggery. No one has any right to tell. Love has no name so don’t expect it to deliver your ***** pleasures.
Aphrodite has a mirror_ it reflects your world of despicable lust. Her voice flogs those who use its dance for uppity pose.
Freyja was here with Eros flown away.
I am impassioned with this. Never born_trapped in mother’s uterus_screaming forever. But you released me. This hideous hateful horrid hobgoblin always down inside inner core gutter’s sewer range. Crawling with the dregs- scrags_ slags lovers who have been banished for a dream of sensuality.
Unbeknown to every scab here, I am to see_ relish freedom_ hovering, staggering towards my light, the golden globe IBurning gone but not forever as there is no ever or nowhere forgone. Person of steel lifts me out of the gutter- carrys me on her back to the hollowmen hole. I’m gone.
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 9:20 AM UTC