"slavering" poems
Her words are ripened fruit,
Each a perfect, poignant peach
For trembling hands to reach.
Stroking first the pink flesh text,
Slowly, oh so slowly,
Relishing delicious words.
He takes a bite, sinks a slavering tongue
into creative juices,
Beginning, middle, please don't end,
He reads her with his mouth.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
Serendipity.
You ******* what!
What you saying, pal?
Serendipity, oh aye, all right,
Aye, seren-fuckin-dipity; whatever!
Tell it to the raggedy soaked-wino,
Look into his rheumy eyes, really look,
Want to kiss his toothless grin, eh? Do you?
Feel his sore-ridden tongue searching you out,
Nay, I thought not, anyway, he hears nothing,
Nothing except the rattle of change.
Tell it to the punctured ****** go on,
Cold body on a cold linoleum floor,
He can’t hear you either, maybe though,
Maybe, slipping away on the last tide of life,
Do-gooder, maybe he will hear you call,
‘Serendipity’ and wonder: what the ****
Until blackness closes in, blanking the stars.
Tell it to the Fourth Bridge jumpers, go on,
Always falling; to them, falling forever,
In hearts and minds, the event horizon of death,
Trapped in limbo, leaving unbearable hurt behind,
Along with serendipity and bad choices.
And the young, oh they need serendipity,
Cruelty of life glittering in furtive wary eyes,
Old already, far beyond halcyon blue-skies,
Used and abused by those closest, the shame,
Erosion of trust and sincerity completed over night,
Christmas ghosts: slovenly laggards by comparison.
Resilient youth! Yep, they ******* need to be,
Grinding machine of town-life hunting them,
Scouring dark corners, gnashing jaws growling,
Crunching down darkened alleys, feeding,
Lapping up the young blood of runaways,
Slavering maw eating them alive; laughing.
With serendipity, they can lie low, maybe hide,
Dream of escape, for they all want out,
Putting misery behind them, quelling cruelty,
After all, they live in a lucky ******* town,
So escape is not impossible, no,
Unlikely, yes, poor wee ********
Serendipity should shout a loud warning,
Run, scrawny urchins, run if you can,
Run for your lives, the rest of your lives,
Town-life’s grinding machine awaits,
Watches for you, so keep running,
Never stop, never look back,
Not ever, not ever,
Serendipity.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
no slavering kisses
like a dog on heat
no schoolboy fumble
wanting you to beat his meat.
no ***** in the dark
or a letch to grab your ****
no rancid breath,nor sweaty skin
to grasp you in his mits.
just you and your fingers
and your own ***** vices
pure ecstacy of loving yourself
with your battery op devices.
it is all in the touch
the rhythm of your wrist
the way your body squirms
giving a wriggle to your hips.
a gasp n moan
************ brings you pleasure
frustrated tensions fade away
as you fiddle at your leisure.
reaching your crescendo
a throb a pant a sigh
eyes slightly misted
youre at your dizzying high.
copyright gothicmistress 2010
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 6:02 AM UTC
again and again
the morning comes undone
and we march -
stuff-lunged into crunch
and mule love
blunder-bused and lump-kin
but for always
a short ton
of long grief
tweaking the snip
of a dead sow's ear
to reap a jewel
from a dead
mind.
but here
i love you like a war in Spain
spiking the Punch and Judy/
a fugue grief on a tide of dark joy
slavering at the haunches
of a Pegasus.
Blindfolded.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:15 AM UTC
Dripping *** she stood there, completely unaware
That every man about her had turned around to stare.
For in her nubile innocence and when her red lips smiled
She was causing utter mayhem as distracted drivers piled.
The Postmen stopped delivering, Policemen stood agape,
Conductors missed their trolleybus and Superman his cape!
…And as she sashayed down the street leaving bedlam in her wake
And all the while her red high heels were causing earth to shake,
Perambulating gracefully, impossibly demure,
She sauntered down the causeway, with a loveliness so pure.
Whilst just behind and following, a ravenous hot mob
Of nature’s gift to manhood, all slavering at the gob.
Quite suddenly with a swish of skirt she swirled about and laughed
At the frozen apparition there immobile and aghast.
Acutely frozen with embarrassment at having looked so ****** absurd
They all dispersed their different ways without a single word.
“Bye boys” she chortled, with a devilment in play
With flick of skirt and toss of hair she turned and walked away.
Ha!
Marshalg
Laughing to myself at the silly old mating game we play.
Pukehana Paradise
14 April 2013
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
Trick tricky on a radiant platform
Jezebel, arms full of gnashing curs
She loves everybody, that girl
She always meant well
The most dangerous thing in the world
Riding the dragon straight into the apocalypse
Nine heads slavering, always hungry
Swollen with decades of wasted debauchery
Brimstone falling from the rafters, pillars of melting wax, melting faces
Tongue to the iron, proving my lie
A deception of self, it’s a ******* masterpiece
The garden lush that falls to rot,
Lunatic blight, land that salts itself
Spending what was spent until it is finally dry like wither.
I,
I run hot and cold, a cheap parlor trick gone bad
Changing phase to phase and back again, losing a little more each time
Tiamat to fire the kiln, I wait
Too polluted by far to continue this way any longer
Wrapping myself up small for you, so helpless and inevitable
Hell-bent on teaching you how to better abuse me
Help me to recreate myself, oh yes please
I am, you will find
More pliable even, in the heat of your hands
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 1:10 AM UTC
_
On
Goolwa Beach
the waves are
dogged
bounding
puppies bouncing
excitedly around your feet
Greyhounds sprinting in to nip your
ankles Labradors wet nosed gambolling
slobbering Rottweilers snarling slavering
knocking you off balance in packs hard
on the heels of the leader *** crazed
sniffing the one in front mounting it
mad things collapsing foaming retreating
whimpering spent on the sand cowering like whipped curs
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 2:03 AM UTC
Those few shy sun rays
That fill the saddest valleys
With the grace of their warmness
Are not aware of the joy they bring when
They steal their way in from the 70's clouds
White, grey and dark as the night
Choked by the rage of the stormy skies
Putting up with our accusing eyes
Blaming them for this furious weather
Not knowing that they're under the pain and pressure
Of the scrunchy lightening tearing them up like a whip
Few of them survive while others slip
Between the hands of the mad forces pushing them to cry
Yes, they boil with the urge to pry
As raindrops ,as cold as the heavens' heart,
With the demons pressing "restart",
Soak us with the filthy rain
Of this silly, slavering game
Every round that a devil gains
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
They stared down that fruit
ravenously as junkies
seeking their next fix.
Days they spent
cleverly concealed
high in the banyan boughs
by the jungle home.
Monkey spies peered longingly,
slavering over the scrumptious cornucopia
of fruity delight,
so close.
They watched the white man
devour whole pigs three times
daily. When he ate
he feasted.
This gluttonous absurdity shall last no longer,
claimed the monkey chieftain.
Clang clang, rang the war bells,
and primate warriors gathered,
plotting a master plan,
the "Fruit Bowl Coup."
Gangsters conniving their next hit,
the monkeys schemed day and night.
The fruit shall be ours at last!
The white man's snores rumbled
after lunch. He dazed
in a satiated stupor.
With vine ropes and a leafy gag,
the monkeys stormed in.
A score tied him down,
muffled his pitiful squeaks.
The rest raided,
took siege over the kitchen,
plundering pirates.
They filled their cheeks
and hands with fruit,
then brought their *****
back to the tribe.
They feasted for days
and the white man cried.
Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 11:23 PM UTC
her tongue rattles a smoky gauze
wet lipped licks a velvet *****
holding her slavering heart
tin tin deo
while she finger painted her inside
thighs honey glazed red
hot as a fever
her mouth pours out of itself
a flagellating tongue fluent
*** blizzard
tin tin deo
dumb founded happy cross-eyed
her head like a carved moon
swaying asylums of shrieking beds
curved slick as a honeymoon ****
tin tin deo
a storm of purple
blowing wind of violets
from her warm kiln belly
zodiac ancient **********
ravishing flame
ruler of ever dreams
tin tin deo
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
I'm tired of Love lost,
of cookie-cutter me missing you
and all of the ridiculous rhymes that ensue.
More and more I am fed up,
plainly sick of inflated ego's insulated by chosen ignorance
or inborn imbalances,
maybe a history of inbreeding
from a catalyst of parochial need.
You are a parody of mental health
shaping the shifting black and white
to propound cheap love, I feel this as a slight.
Committing any wisp of originality
to become an unconscious marketing ploy,
you're looking for glory in methods unlearned
now butchered, bleeding clichés
to stain pages and pages
with your sullen insecurities.
For that I name you an idiot,
a slavering jowls dripping greedy soul.
Comprehend there is no invalidation of your emotions,
just a damning of self neglect and hidden pride in suffering
all laced with the unspoken demand for my respect.
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 6:22 PM UTC
so I surrounded myself with stuff
it made me feel better
worthy, an achiever
bolstering my confidence
stuff came through the post
parcels to open everyday
it was like Christmas
stuff was in shops
where people were happy
to help spend my money
it was like they were jealous
wanting to live through me
getting the stuff they wanted
but I was paying
then I began to worship stuff
exclusive stuff
one of a kind stuff
then I woke up
literally opened my eyes
and saw all this ****
how I had coveted it
no friends, no relationship
no emotion, no soul
I was effectively dead
some Egyptian mummy
preserved in a living tomb
full of all all the ****
I'd need in the afterlife
because I had no time
to appreciate it all now
so I sold my ****
to people who were like me
and I looked at them
slavering over my old ****
and I hated them
like seeing my image in a mirror
they were so pleased
carrying off their prizes
not realising it was all cursed
they never owned anything
just stuff someone would
someday
prize from their cold dead fingers
Dec 25, 2021
Dec 25, 2021 at 6:53 PM UTC
Waiting for the fruit to fill with pithy seeds
Underneath a barren lifeless tree
The carrion hunters spread their wings
And fan away the pollen on the breeze
My feet are crumpled sacks of bone and meat
My mind an ***** rotten like the orchards
Are scattered by my finger blackened pits
Inedible attractions for the birds
Famished as a calf without its mother
Left by the herd long crossed the overture
I cannot get my legs below my body
And find the gangly chains so I can stir
They wait above my dwindling departure
With slavering testaments to their breed
I am abandoned wasting underneath
With corpses of the scattered lives time bleeds
My gullet cries the reckless yawning end
That lungs have not attempted for so long
I let my chin collapse into my chest
Close my eyes remembering bygone
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
The dogs have all had a piece
They lay and eat their ****** feast
Yet still he does, still he stands
That tattered remnant of a man
With just enough flesh to go around
To sate the slavering red eyed hounds
But they're almost done
They crave for more
Not this sorry motherf@cker
He's out the door
They stop and howl
'What have we done'
They've put their food upon the run
They snap and snarl
All in vain
Aught to stop their hunger and pain
They cry with sorrow
To the empty wind
'Please come back we're famished again'
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
do not lay me amongst thy hand
(towar' heaven ascending)
of earth stuff more come.
come thy mouth as daughters;
come thy slavering, come thy pistil keep.
a flower,
come. come as
riotously fragrant Spring
snowing easily with health.
come, and, steal my soul for sleep;
and place 'tween the knees of forests
***** bales of sighing wind.
come in most unsilent clothed
thy myriad of flesh.
come and life
unmeet thy thighs
,admitting,
perhaps the lather(your colour)
through me to seep.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Blood and lipstick femininity -
My heels crack concrete.
Redder than wine -
Smile in the corner,
Snarl along the fangs.
I bite what’s mine to claim it,
Eat it whole and raw!
Black dress, fiery hair,
Hips like an empress,
The undefeated conquerer.
I know you think you’re king -
Baby, I’m a lioness.
You’ll eat what I hunt,
Lick the gore from my lips -
My slavering red mouth,
My feminine blood and lipstick.
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 11:31 AM UTC
Before you spun the translucent filaments around your body
To seal your scars, so that they may stay fresh
You opened your mouth with your fingers across the signals
And sent me a packet of code that said: Stay.Away.From.Me.
I withered and died, completely slain
A corpse that can still weep
Every ******* day—
Like a road that leads into a wall
Like a snake eating its own face.
And I threw myself around
Into frivolous hours, empty words I choked on spite to say
Strange faces culled from a few stupid lines
Things wanted, terrible with the meaningless
Hopeful wolves, perfectly politely slavering
But the bare harlotry of my mourning is mute and blind
Perfectly politely proof and void
Perfectly.fucking.ruined.
All you had to do was drop One Word and I could have stopped
I would have died happy, but No—
With the cheering of a sadistic crowd at my back
I grip the filthy saddle between my knees
Unable to even express my disgust
The evisceration of my eloquence, complete.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC
Like a rebel I flee from exquisite fate of deception,
Neither a knight of a night nor no day by both,
Watch brave man knows neither sun nor moon,
Slavering From conveyors, chisel and shovels,
Victimized of labor with a distraction to ultimate
Prize, while the politicians Serves through favor
Adjudication, feeding the Masters of the game,
Who strike at dawn till gloom, silence predators,
Animals, strike down, seizing, killing and ignoring
The Yelling, pushing the agenda of 1985 speech,
Using the Nelson Mandela image with the Big 5 as their
Lucky charm, to muting Africa’s consciousness
Wisdom for our freedom, detaining our brains in
Chains to keep their game on, I resign from their
Design, using us against us to build their golden castle
To live us so cold in a Convoy at their feet
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
I'm petrified
Of the monster inside.
Locked behind the façade
Of a beautiful mirage,
It rages,
Rattling the bars of its cage.
Snarling and slavering,
It begins carving
Its way out of my soul
With one goal:
To expose the beast.
And the belle will revel in its release.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Give up the ghost
Pour water to try to put out the sun
5:47 am, take off my glasses
Rub fingers on my face
Woke up aching, half on
And off my bed
Stretched, screaming
Awfully upon the rack
" I have pains in my heart which
Have taken my appetite "
Go bow down to Robert Johnson
Godlike
Poet extraordinare
" I have stones in my passway
And my road seems
Dark as night "
Ended up dying on his knees
Howling like a dog
A hellhound on his trail
Well I guess it finally
Caught up with him
I hear it's terrifying
Footsteps, padding, panting
Slavering, enslaving
80 years on and
Little has changed
" I have pains in my heart which
Have taken my appetite "
So, go pour buckets of rain
On the sun
Steal the moon and
Stash it in my backpack
Then run off drunkenly
Laughing
Laughing
Laughing at death
Laughing at life
What else can you do?
When there are;
Guilty lying tombstones
Obscene newspapers
Dead T.V.
The poisoned glass of whiskey
The dying mother
The weeping boyfriend
The creeping boy fiend
Drugs and alcohol
" Stones In My Passway "
Living too slow
Dying too fast
Stealing the moon
******* on the sun
The young girl beaten
And ***** in broken glass
The poisoned death
The poisoned life
5:47 am
Stretched upon the rack
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
The hull was that of a freighter, merchant,
Old, but still under steam,
It rose from off the horizon, distant,
Out of somebody’s dream,
Its livery had been dull and black
But now it flaked and it peeled,
The paint rose up on bubbles of rust
It was once designed to have sealed.
And from its stack there was dark grey smoke
That rose and spread on the sea,
Fouling the air in a narrow track
So they wouldn’t be seen by me,
We put the coastal cutter about
And raised the flag in the sun,
So Sally could see we were headed out
As she went on the Black Dog run.
The day was done it was almost dusk
When we entered that trail of smoke,
The freighter, ‘Emily Greensleeves’ must
Have burnt off a ton of coke,
We only saw her faint through a haze
And never a single crew,
But only Sally up on the bridge
As the dog came rabbiting through.
The dog, as black as a tinker’s ***
Raced back and forth on the deck,
Not so much as a chain restraint
Or a collar stud at its neck,
It stood there slavering down at us
When we got up close with a gun,
And often we thought to pick it off
When out on the Black Dog run.
But then the freighter would slip away
Deep in its trail of smoke,
And we’d be left alone in the bay
Trying to breathe, not choke,
Others have said they will bring her in
This ghostly girl, with a gun,
But nobody’s able to pin her down
When out on the Black Dog run.
David Lewis Paget
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 2:44 AM UTC
There are two wolves inside all men.
There is one that is Jealousy, Selfishness, Rage, and all other terrible things.
There is one that is Honor, Peace, Wisdom, and all other good things.
Or at least that's how the saying goes.
That saying also says that those two wolves fight, and the one that wins is the one that you feed.
Well, here's the problem with that-
If the Beast is the size of Fenris, the Godslaying Warg of indescribable power...It's not gonna matter for anything how much you feed that White Wolf.
That White Wolf is gonna use all the energy it gets from the food you give it just to keep itself away from the Beast, dodging its assault.
The White Wolf can't fight the Beast. It can survive the Beast. That's all it's gonna manage.
So, when you're trying to be that White Wolf, and you're trying to keep up with the giant, slavering Beast that wants nothing more than to **** eat, and forget you, the same as it wants to do with anything else- sometimes you wonder why you keep evading the Beast.
Because it hurts so much from the exhaustion and the burdens that feeding yourself place on you that you don't know if you WANT to keep moving.
Is there really anything wrong with just...laying down...relaxing...letting it all end?
After all...the poor Beast over there just wants to eat...and he's been starving as long as I've been alive...
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
Deja Vue
25 November 2021
I have been here when I was young.
Dead bears, wolves howling, wooden stairs, wooden legs.
Nights alone.
At my heels slavering death.
Gasping, failing breath.
Trembling, remembering their eyes.
Falling into the abyss.
This time will I awake?
Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 9:25 AM UTC