"slickest" poems
I was always told to avoid drugs at all costs,
but what about the one that brushed its fingers against my neck?
that got me addicted with words
injected itself into my bloodstream via soft, slow lips
how do I stay away from the slickest poison of all,
the poison that has poured heated breaths into my ears
left dark bruises in unseen places on my chest.
how can I avoid the hallucinogen I love most,
what do I do to avoid you?
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
Your body language waving me on; the way you are addressing me, is driving me crazy; hugging your curves, its turning me on. The ride; must be superb. Your profiler unheard, your concaves, suggest that your are blessed; anything less is absurd. Got my attention; standing attention; and savory every word. I hope my word-of-mouth; is the best thing you ever heard. Cause my words slipping off of the tip of your tongue; might be the slickest thing, they've ever rode. All eyes on you; such a lovely road. Best part about it; you broke the mold.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
When the sun slid down behind the buildings of Camden Town and the evening came to light
when the beggars of Mornington Crescent came out into the night to fire the West End and the good people took fright,
I was down in Goodge Street spilling the beans in the American church,perched on a pew,as you do,talking to a vicar,the slickest padre I ever did meet,
he talked to me in parables as if I was the arable land he sought,but Jesus and I had a deal,so I thought,
he went his way,I went mine until the divine light of reckoning came beckoning me,and I didn't think that this was the time.
But we all make mistakes and the winner takes all,I pondered on this as I walked through the hall of the ancients.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
You want this
swelling rise of swollen self
that drowns my thoughts
in blood that throbs
the slickest steps always
slip the best
when pressed
hydrant-pressure pulses
In that slow build
You wind around me
tight
as we settle into that fractured time
when I am yours and you are mine
connected
I growl,
a bear in heat
you squirm and entreat me
to make love to you
treat you like my princess
your ******* scream at you to be
as they graze the cotton sheets
Melded
lubricated to stop the high tension
smoking burn of friction
the slap of your *** as you writhe back
consuming me
***** deep
in your centre
My fingers clasp into your hips
holding the depth
my eyes closed
you smell of lilacs and berries
if they had been slathered in sin
and served up in piping hot lust
you sound like heaven
echoing through my blood stream
the thud of my heart screaming your name
breathe
I command myself to stay with you
as my hands let you ease off of
my ****
you take full advantage
there on your knees and I am vulnerable
to your slick
to your wet...
(Too right, I'm just a man)
all you needed was an inch of freedom
to rock forwad then slam your cheeky control
back onto me
that slick sound that
unmistakable ***** ******* sound
slops against my thighs
the invite to drive
me into a frenzy
the want
the need to please
be pleased
freed from thought and reason
Shower me in your lust
soak the sheets
moments before I shower you with mine
the hot splash
on your back
as we lose control together
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC
I've had more than my share of news.
My pocket watch doesn't have a snooze.
I tried to get by the right way,
But the world's a society.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
The slickest part of the granite is mine.
Stay on your side of the line,
Unless you get a clear invite.
No chance of that except in dead of night.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
I don't want to take the blame
Of being foolish to your game.
I have heard it all before
And there's no use coming back for more.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
The fragile nature of your face
Needs to look elsewhere for grace.
I am not the savior of souls
Though I've collected many tolls.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
Are my lines straight as a curve
Or do I need to write more words?
I don't need to cease the day.
I just lock my heart away.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
I've been lit by the candle's light
Buy the late night love of Mr. Right.
As solid as the moment was,
It wasn't even really love.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
I go to where from angels flee
In their fits of jealousy.
I do whatev' I **** well please;
I'm stormy waters of the sea.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
One day the one that set the course
Of my hardened tour de force
Will write me of a wedding day,
Some good came of sending me away.
Somebody's getting burned
But it won't be me.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 4:13 AM UTC
I do a little ditty, a little ditty-doo,
A finger-snappin'-somethin'
That I dittied just for you.
It may not be an anthem,
A ballad for the times,
It may not be the bestest words
Or have the slickest rhymes.
It won't make sense or flow so well
Or tell a lovely tale,
And if you seek inspiration-
Sad to say, it's sure to fail.
But still I did the little ditty,
Little ditty I did do,
And typed it up for giggles
And put it here for you...
And if you find my ditty
poorly made or lacking class,
Rest assured, this poetic ****
Was pulled straight out of my...
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 2:36 AM UTC
Once a week on Wednesdays
Round about high noon
The crowd falls deadly silent
As his presence fills the room
Is it out of reverence
Or is it out of fear
A rustling of feathers
As the Colonel draws near
He passes back and forth
In his Stately Southern Swagger
You can make out nervous clucking
As it certainly isn't laughter
Pointing out a few in the crowd
That's the last we'll see of you
Until you're deep fried battered
And set out on a platter
That's when Henrietta hen
Noticed the paper in his pocket
In her slickest ninja move
Grabbed it fast, don't dare drop it
His secret recipe
Who would ever have believed
What he'd planned to dust them in
The chickens have now got it
They gave it to Robbie Rooster
Because he's computer savvy
Down loaded the app for eBay
To see who would like to have it
From the Ukraine to Japan
The bids started pouring in
Popeye and some Church
Were in the battle to the end
The Colonel's misfortune paid that day
The chickens bought themselves an island
Skedaddling themselves far away
The coups now forever silent
Enjoying life drinking margaritas
Sticking it to the Man with golden tan
You can lick your fingers on that Sanders
As you'll never see them again...
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
Those stars you see are dead
Only blackness there instead
Sights that enlight hearts and heads
Are finite delights we misread
And those TV shows and media spiel
They're real profits for fake ideals
Our lives are dull, at worst ordeals
And to appeal to the way humans can feel
Cuts the thickest, if slickest, business deal
So we divide ourselves into groups and sides
Find the one that best describes what's 'inside'
Who we are is defined by who we stand beside
With as much control of the pride or snide chides implied
As we have over landslides or mountainsides or the tides
In the age of the original, the individual
We shun the biblical, the ritual, the miracle
And turn to the visual,
A new kind of digital Fictional
Where the miserable are invisible
The political are cynical
The habitual criminals reciprocal
And the principles hypocritical
Those stars you see are dead
That's what the phycisist said
Even sky has us misled
When the truth that's spreaded is dreaded
The truth we bred is embedded
The easily read are easily led
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
Darkness nervously approaches people and
is quiet and awkward.
Rumors begin to swirl about what a mean person darknesses is
what she hides. As if a light was thrown people
stop hanging out with Darkness.
The rumors swirl into facts.
She is untrustworthy and her name
is now a bad word.
Dangerous people start doing their business with Darkness.
She allows it her, figuring they will
go away soon.
They don’t and soon people who don’t care for her
enter her house, only interested in what she hides.
Light sends a message to Darkness: What a loser,
only professionals and the slickest trust me.
Darkness stares into distant Light and is in awe of her
variety and how she is not herself just the opposite of light.
Darkness looks at her spots and cries about the uneven
distance between her spots about how everyone sees her
differently.
Just one star, Light feels for Darkness.
Slowly Light’s feelings light up, and like a
series of candles random pockets of her pop on.
Light and Darkness grow used to seeing other’s silhouettes and
slowly start hanging out closer, sharing the sky, careful
not to negate each other
Light starts to defend Darkness.
Slowly, saying Darkness sure is a pain but
she adds another layer to everything,
she doesn’t like those who visit her any more
than you do. She just has to be everywhere that I’m not.
Darkness starts to grow fond of Light and has
a light-bulb moment when she realizes that Light needs her
the same way she needs Light, yet they can never grow
too close, always a barrier in-between them, weather
it be distance or a wall.
Long distance friends, they settle
knowing that they will negate each other,
almost seeing each other.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
Games of war, have always been war games.
Von Neuman and A. E. Wildersmith and I were
reasoning with a wandering mind claiming
-bug in my eye
me me em meme, I think we missed a reason for war.
-stop actual bug
tic
Is there one that does not steal, **** and destroy, nay.
Is this a thief's old trick, watch
take your time…
tic
The Naval Electronic War Simulator -c.1960
What're the odds based on known unknown?
Rand,
AI is un biased, mono options outcomes are not,
so we live
double minded, who is responding to morphic resonic
we we we
memeing miming silent
plots, stories telling stories as if once there were these
beings
sent to serve the man kind who think,
curiously,
acting the role of kurio, I think I am a thinking thing,
not a man,
smaller than a breadbox, if that is still
a common clue,
one end gives moo,
the other gives poo,
those males of the bovine ilk…
none remain who know it all, there was a fall,
a wall fell in some in Silo- am I sure sure I heard
word o'good smite me with blithering idiocy so as
none
recall the lies, when I said,
this is that way, and it was
really this way, all along the watchtower, nothing,
ever, but joker's
making thieves confess,
there need be no such way out of here.
This is the answer to somebody else's prayer,
you and I got in by slickest trick ever played,
we said it must be true.
We happened to agree,
a we we be or else
this is
a simulation of a Turing Test with actual Von Neuman per-
petuity mods, self-governing beings thinkable as
characters by any augmented sapient, this
is now.
We are online, as they say, to all Wichita linemen,
somewhere in was.
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 10:48 PM UTC
so I called now what.... it’s been a week since I last spoke with you! I know I can be pretty mean especially u... to think the connection was real is a understatement! I hate to let people in my head... weird chick! yesterday’s problems should never effect today’s communication... I’m big on that I hate to let **** linger... I shoulda called the next day but I’m Not gonna keep compromising with u.... so if I don’t hear from u by the end of today, miscommunication would have set our fate! I read between the stars so I’d hate to give up... but your so cold the slickest ******* I know “The Greedy One” so I know it’s through cause I’m not gonna hear from you
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC
I've forgotten how to act around you
At the start of all this I was the slickest and suavest siren around
But now I squirm at the thought of your stare
And become aware of my breathing
As if this paranoia takes me over to the point where Its as if I am the only one in a room that the focus is on
I try to sneak glances at you
And it's quite untrue
When I think I may just have a future with you
Because you
Yes you
Are just a figment of my imagination
An object to fuel my desires,
The real ones at least.
My interest is waning
Yet I'm still struggling with the failure of this
Because when I think I may have a future with you
Suddenly you're not just a figment of my imagination
you're real
And I can't believe it
That you stand before me
And now you're just another distraction in my life
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC