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Mark Jun 2020
YELLOW TAIL MOUSE TALE  
From the 9th diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.  
 
This week, I had the best surprise present since Christmas Day, when I received my new grouse pet mouse named, Smooch. But the surprise didn't come from my parents, Archie or Flo, for it didn't even come from my little brother Lemmy's mouth. It wasn't from the mouths of my two much older identical twin sisters, Emma and Jemma, either.  
 
Believe it or not, it came from the mouth of my mouse, named Smoochy. Yes that's right, he does speak and he told me about his remarkable life story, since birth.  
 
It began when, I was feeding him some of my Mum's delicious afternoon treat. Do you remember the one that I named, 'a colourful fruit-blast'? Smoochy said, 'wow!, I love your Mum's food, it reminds me of my Mums magical dessert creations, she used to make for me, before I came to live with the you and your family'.  
 
I was gob smacked, when I heard Smoochy, actually having a conversation with me. I now knew 100%, that I wasn't dreaming or hallucinating, when I thought, Smoochy spoke to me. Just like the time on the seashore with the whale, and the fairy floss at the seaside resort named, Slipslopslap Bay. Also the time during the circus, while we were holidaying at the big top park circus, named Rolling River Retreat.  
 
Smoochy, told me about his parents, who's names are, Slippy and Sloppy. He also said, 'that his birth name is actually, Poppy, but he didn't mind being called,Smoochy. His name I had given him last Christmas. He said, 'it's grouse for a mouse to have a cool nickname, in the world of humans'.  
 
He also added, that in the animal world most creatures, don't even speak. Except for some mice, a parrot, and he was also led to believe, maybe even the odd Dolphin, swimming around the ocean.  
 
Smoochy, told me, 'how he and his parents Slippy and Sloppy, ended up at the local pet shop, in my local village named, Shimmerdimmerlee, when he was only about 2 years old'.  
Smoochy' said, 'that his parents, used to travel around the globe, with the very colourful and world famous circus troop name, 'Mr. Kazoontite's and his Marvellous, Magical, Mysterious and Musically Minded Misfits'.  
 
They both used to appear in an act, with the circus's ventriloquist, who's stage name was, 'Mumbling Murray the Mouth of the South'.They would pop their heads out of his top, left and right hand side pockets, of his jacket, and pretend to speak in English.They could also speak, a bit of his native language called, 'Ogbogolo'.  
 
When Mumbling Murray, opened his mouth and spoke, they would only be grinding their teeth together, to get the cheese out of the gaps of their teeth. But, the crowd thought it was funny, so they just kept doing it, for every act, over several years.  
 
Then one day, my Mum was having a baby, it was me. So, I was born in a big top circus and was looked after, ever so well by my parents and all of the other circus workers. Then one day, Mumbling Murray had to go back to his home country, to look after his sick sister.  
 
Mumbling Murray, had just finished the circus tour, near our village and decided he should take my parents and I to the local pet store. He thought, 'maybe they can be cared for, by a new loving family'.  
 
While living in the pet store, we noticed, with utter amazement, a very colourful parrot, talking in English. So Smoochy's Dad, answered him back, and the parrot almost fell off his perch. He spun around, about 3 times in a row. He then yelled back to my Dad, 'did you say that'? Yes, I did indeed, replied my dad, with a very proud smile on his face. Wow, said the parrot, 'I thought I was the only non human, who could speak'.  
 
Smoochy's Dad told the parrot, who's name was Polly, by the way, 'that he and his wife Sloppy, had learnt to speak English, from the ventriloquist acts performing with Mumbling Murray, the Mouth of the South, and the world famous circus troop named, 'Mr. Kazoontite's, Marvellous, Magical, Mysterious and Musically Minded Misfits'. They, in turn, taught their only son, Smoochy, mouse language. during the day and English at night, before he went to sleep.  
 
As for my Mum Sloppy and her magical dessert creations she used to make for the family. It was the best mixtures of sweet and colourful ingredients anyone could ever imagine. She used to go looking for snacks that were left on the floor under the seating area after the end of each nights circus performance. She would find things like salted popcorn with a touch of butter, a variety of different coloured chocolate, Neapolitan ice cream, orange Jaffa's and an assortment of lollies. It was so fun eating it all in a large dessert bowl after our main meal.  
 
Gee I miss those days and miss my mum and dad so much, Smoochy (Poppy) told me. So the next day I mentioned to my parents that I really need to go to the loc pet shop to get something really important for Smoochy. They said what do you need? Dad said I have built you a new pet mouse house for your grouse new pet mouse Smoochy and I even hand painted it with such colourful flair using my artistic nous.  
 
What else does Smoochy need, asked my mum. I said it is something that everyone needs in life and can never be replaced. So my parents said ok, tomorrow morning we will go down to the village pet shop and try and find what is so important for you and your grouse pet mouse Smoochy.  
 
Here we are Smoochy, at the pet shop that took you and your parents in a few years ago. Let's go and have a look for you mum and dad together. We saw slimy snakes, sticky spiders, floating frogs, flirting fish, droopy ducks and even timid turtles. Then all of a sudden we spotted several mouse houses.  
 
Smoochy was quietly saying, "Hello mum and dad are you here", even I was yelling out, Slippy, Sloppy, are you here. Then Smoochy spotted his parents in a mouse house which was stacked up on the top of a shelf full of books, towards the back of the pet shop.  
 
Hello son, how have you been and how did you and your new friend know we were living here? Smoochy told them that his new friend Stewy, knows that he can talk and I told him of my early years of life and what had happened to us all.  
 
I then yelled out to my parents, "I've found what Smoochy needs, we have found his real parents right here in Shimmerdimmerlee's village pet shop. Mum and dad said ok, you can have the two much older mice, so Smoochy has a mum and dad like everyone should have in their lives, even though they aren't his real parents.  
 
So back home we went and welcomed Smoochy's mum and dad, Slippy and Sloppy to their new grouse pet mouse house and even showed them dads unusually built and outrageously painted outback backyard shed.  
 
It was a hot afternoon, so we also slid down the "Terrific Triple Tumbling Tremendously Turning Travelling Tubes" to the village pond and introduced Buck the Duck to Smoochy's mum and dad.  
 
Smoochy and I have decided to keep his families secret to ourselves for now. It's ok that my mum and dad don't believe what I say on some occasions, because at least I know what the meaning of family means deep down inside, for myself but also for my friend and grouse pet Smoochy and his loving mum and dad.
© Fetchitnow
20 October 2019.
This children’s fun adventure book series, is only for children from ages, 1-100. So please enjoy.
Note: Please read these in order, from diary entry 1-12, to get the vibe of all of the characters and the colourful sense of this crazy mess.
Sam Jun 2015
I used to 'slippy slide' on my bathroom floor
I would slather the tiles in water and soap
and push myself from wall to wall

the closest I have come to this in 15 years
was when I slipped on my own alcohol induced *****
at two in the morning on Monday 15th (I just woke up from this)

this isn't a poem for you
It was just a really good night
and that's poetry to me
Im not really sure what this is
zebra Aug 2017
tattooed girl
hello kitty
in need of a purge
she **** first
in the whip me
with a wet noodle
pain Olympics

her fruit launcher
like a summer papaya
***** gush
kissey squirts
candy crush
all gobbledygoo
and lickyfu

ooow she swayed
to the whip back crack
her torso bent
heaven sent

dipped in hot ***
and laughing lady sauce
she squealed
for
bok choy
eel ****
and slippy toy

**** buttered waffles
and gummy worms
lime and cherry *****
with candy sperms

you can find her
in the bend over den
eating puffer fish
so very Zen

toes gooey wet
spread on a cot
oh so high
**** and squat
******* baby
tied in a knot

**** bobba bubble
and chrysanthemum tea
nut scented black beer
and milk pearl ***

its the end of the line
ready to dine
get the gag
flex the spine

face to the ground
feet to the sky
held like a dove
***** splash cry
naughty *** *** ***
Alexandra Faith Sep 2017
Feet first
eyes closed tightly

I feel it on my ear
Blessed to feel your breath hot on my ear
I hear it pounding
Blessed to have you heart beating at my side
Arms wrapped around me
Hearts innertwined

Nothings better than the slippy love. The only kind to make you fall hard enough.
Steven Boston Aug 2021
Dwelling where the tears cry blood
echoed nightmares ghost my tortured shell
In streets not paved in gold
but misery mountains that I scale everyday
wearily sauntering around their slippy slopes

As I die a little bit more everyday

Sitting on my concrete throne
chained to the only thing I know
an abyss of loniless
my friend
my foe

As I die a little bit more everyday
This poem is about being homeless which I have experienced in my life. Now removed from it I wrote about it.
Yellow specimens in a jar,
like plump yolks bulging
in a jelly like substance
They are so weird,
Give the jar a little wobble,
and they jiggle against each other,
they are so weird
I want to touch them.

They are egg yolks,
I've got egg on my hands,
the mystery has gone,
I liked them better before,
now they're slippy sliding between my fingers
and oozing to the floor
who put's eggs in a jar like this?
That is just weird.

I wonder if they will notice,
the two I took out;
one slipped from my fingers and
one I tasted just be sure.
better ***** the lid back on the jar and
Oh no! It slippy slid out of my goopy hands
  and landed on the floor,
didn't smash, that's impressive,
there's still ******* eggs all over the place though.
Hannah Sabine Mar 2013
woke up this morning
to clean snow
falling on my fingers
and my cigarette
and thoughts of you
i wish you could just as simply
brush from my shoulders.
Niharika May 2020
There was a slippy cat named silk,
She had her eyes on my milk;
I became quite wise,
Why don't you try some mice?
This is how she was  bilked.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Hypocritical catastrophe,
Irreverent duplicity,
Luminarial ludiocrity,
Nonsensical impetuosity.

Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.

Constitutional incongruity,
Jesuitical dictatoriality,
Oxymoronic partiality,
Nepotistic surreality.

Materialistic abnormality,
Monetaristic conviviality ,
Ritualistic mediocrity,
Histrionic philanthropy.

Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.

Misdirection genuflection,
Malefaction justification,
Incarceration implication,
Resignation profliferation.

Prevarication reiteration,
Damnation indication,
Malefaction direction
Undetected discretion.

Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.
Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.
Dish on it gwib
**** on my bib
From the bib dribbled a slibular fib
A glandular ****
A rugged soghard
A pish-po-dish get it wet
Pish po dib, gwib, flib
flippy pippy whip slick
The tick slipped wicked from the slippy drib
Michael Jordan basketball
New Kix,
Box of
Got it three-ninety-nine in the aisle
Put it on the box of it did it
Why didn't I do it?
Did it.
Sock hard the block guard
The twiss'ed grits
SWB Sep 2011
me and cuz are gettin stove-piped
by three ripe, early-eyed airborne minds
me and cuz are flappin just right.

sharp turn on that slippy turnpike.
I spy twisted steel, cuz musta lied-
bottle kneck, open backpack, plastic bag.

guess cuz was 'fraid of a gun fight,
wid a seatbelt stained red on both sides.
me and cuz got us stove-piped.
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy.
Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy.
Lippy hippy, slippy dippy.
Nasty-nicey, normally snippy.

Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey.
Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey.
Hinky-stinky presidential *****.
Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko.

Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy
Get a mop, it never stops.
Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy
Face as gross as rotten taffy.

Whammy-bammy, scary scammy
Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy.
Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy
******* up future jumpy bumpy.

Glossy boss, a frightful loss
Ungathered moss at twice the cost.
Serious gap while the country naps
****** sap giving us a slap.

Frightening nooses tightening,
Rights denied like summer lightning.
Ignoring Popes and Snopes
Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes.

Immune to our cries, elected guys
Make horrifying decisions most unwise.
Like black magic before all our eyes
We’re leaderless as freedom dies.
softcomponent Aug 2014
greater than the sun and the moon
and the stars.. all combinationed as
amorphous telepathic diamond in
muttering ******-cave... is the dirt
underneath a slippy fingernail. an
aching finger working overtime to
function the body as day-to-day
existence laughs itself back into
shape after universal disaster. when
it was younger, the finger began to
pick at silly things like dusty piles of
trash, heaps of dirt, and flyswatter dog
****. it later grew up to finger a girls wet
***** and tease her with the juice on two
-finger-three-finger in mouth as *******
shoved itself up and inside, natures tractor
beam          -     -     -          God's Great Throbbing Death Star(e)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vO30b_SxLzE
Hank Roberts Dec 2011
She flies solo, glides freely floats softly
grace of that of a lonely hunter's dream. She can look
you in the eye and take you by surprise or she'll turn
you into Lot's wife.

She can walk, so slow or so fast, make anything
appear or vanish from path.  It's this that won't disintegrate,
but the gallows wait, they know the burnings won't last
but killing for justice won't ever pass.

Knock 'em dead the catalogue said, it's this you won't regret.  
It's not my eyes that are wrong for seeing, but the hands,
enable, events that were had. I turn back to look for her soft hands,
I turned back on her and now I'm a pillar of salt.

I sat there still and wake, couldn't breath, couldn't talk
but I could listen.  I heard it all.  I heard the stories. I heard things short and long.
I'm the pillars point of the world, people are mad, the pillars of marble
are left to toil and rot.

                                                      II
Feverous snakes coil and twist
While, soothing Medusa calls. Don’t You dare take a glance of horror or
Beware—
You’ll be hard as stone— blood diamonds

Her bed is snakes, drapes of spider webs, stone tile made from shale,
Slimy, slippy, scaled. Sticky.
Dark shadows and empty silhouettes— gaze
Wait, what’s just around that corner?

I hear her calling, my limbs—flesh
Not stone! Promiscuous queen,
*******, dark not pale, I’ll gouge my eyes before I’m caught dead
in your horrid bliss.

Her blood now fills the coral , of the red sea. So mystique and mastery
Of colors. All created from this
Hideous *****.
Bill murray Sep 2015
Trickle down
Rain rainy rain
Trickle poppers
Slippery membrane.
Slippy tickly beard
Prickly pear hair.
Helen Mar 2013
face in the crowd
...picture in a cloud
....thought disallowed
.....disgraced head, bowed

free ride
...heart open wide
....holding the lie inside
.....place, nowhere to hide

casual flirtation
...fine temptation
....lost translation
.....unique damnation

pair of eyes open wide
...unfaltering stride
....disgrace that is implied
.....slippy ***** just to slide
AMcQ Nov 2015
I am without poetry;
Without verse or rhyme.
I am cleansed of all torture;
Have no concept of time.

No longer frantic,
nor riddled with woe.
I have fled from self-pity
to a land of unknowns.

A space so reckless,
it tickles the skin.
My demeanour is calm
but I'm woozy within.

Love rushes to greet him,
palms slippy and warm.
Relieved that my body
Still longs for those arms.

Heat flows round the shadows;
My soul's once more kissed.
But I've been without poetry;
She's the one that I've missed.
Lara Ozdemir Dec 2018
slippy slimy slime
slugging through time
sublime hate crime
it’s a pain going through mine
• • •
don’t you know?
what it’s like to fight with all your might
pity going through
but at the end
you’ve won the battle
A teenager’s chapter
I like lying in the bath,
don't think I'll wash myself yet,
I like lying in it
think I'll think for a little while
and shut my eyes for a bit
mmm,
that's nice
where's my bath pillow?
doesn't matter,
just don't fall asleep again
one of these times
your probably going to
die
just look at the bubbles
the pretty bubbles James
look how nice
not as nice as the feeling of sleeping though
open your eye's James! open your eyes!
I can't help it this feelings too nice.

the bubbles in my bath shatter
and sink beneath me now shards of glass
of green,
and as I try to run the blades of grass cut my feet wide open
pouring my blood
until they are all rusty coloured
and they squeak like old mattress springs
  their delicate towers pushed by the wind
why are you chasing me? I cried,
It doesn't matter
the bath turning into a water slide
sending me down the plug hole
deeper inside

plunged into an abyssful ocean
body sinking down
wrapped up in it's blanket of blissful motion
warmth fades as I reach the place
where the light can not cut through
and blackness in my eyelids where once there was blue
I feel smooth ice slide against my knees
and soon my whole body  slides against it,
deeper and further down
I didn't need breath until I thought of it,
now I'm drowning!
Frantic scrabble slippy sliding
against the ice it's whiteness
stolen from the sky
need to break through
somehow
or I'm going to die
My attempts to climb take me nowhere
I beat my hands against the ice
let me in,
let me in to where there is the warmth of light
and breath to be breathed,
A slight crack,
A satisfying sound
As my fist tries to pound against the ice,
softened blows as they try to cut through the water
another crack
desperation pumps the blood to fuel my fists
as my chances of breath become
shorter and shorter
A break through
plunged down a waterfall
to rest in a still pool
greens and browns and bright colours of a distorted
jungle as I try to make my gaze to see through the silken water
It's softness calms me,
sinking once again
until my struggle turns into a jelly
I can step out of and see my reflection of myself in it
and bright green tree's with the fruits of tangerine coloured
photograph smiles,
making laughing noises
as I bounce my way across the pool,
and before they reach ripeness
My bounces turning into realisation of flight
before their camera flashes go off
and I am blinded,
  and now they look like twinkles
in a lonely oasis
I can see the whole desert from here,
and this is amazing,
I like flying
I can escape everything,
as I go higher
I reach cold clouds
and before I can pass them
I'm shrouded in doubt
and feel myself being pulled
back down to the ground
and I try and jump again,
but it's not as good this time...
I can't bounce in the sand
The heat must mean death soon
large glass beads sweat from the sand dunes
and I become stuck to one and begin to roll
down it's surface
and what was shallow before
turns into a hill,
and then nothing but falling
down
and I wake up
and wonder what I was just dreaming about,
minds ideas inscribed on the wings of butterflies,
already fluttered away into the clouds.
and I realise I fell asleep again
and the waters cold
and I forgot a towel.
life is but a playground with lots of different things
roundabouts and slides with lots and lots of swings
all of these you see as through life you go
it can push you fast it can push you slow
spin you round in circles and put your mind in doubt
spin you round so fast just like a roundabout
it can make you slide down a slippy *****
make you lose your faith and start to give up hope
life is just a playground with many different things
as you go through life all these things it brings
Isaace Feb 21
From the basement we can hear the eternal choo-choo.

These sounds:

Slippy-pippy, slip-slop,
Sniffle-schnort,
Flap-amusement, choo-choo.

The eternal choo-choo—
Haha! We keep chugging along:

Choo-choo! Slip-slapple!
Turtle! Turtle!
Slippy-sloppy-ploppy!
Flop-clumping!
Choo-choo.
Lee Dec 2012
What subtle and suggestive words I wish I could speak to your sublime beauty.
If a picture itself is worth a thousand poetic words
and life itself is a collection of unending, unaiming, uncaptured pictures
then what sweet words could be said to you with these lips
with this pen
that wouldn't be better expressed in action,
reaction,
interaction,
interwinement,
*******,
well of course;
I am a coward
and I say nothing to you
and I linger on in null contemplation
of the slippy words I would weave
as they stay sadly swimming in my clouded mind.
Mike Essig Mar 2017
tis pity she's no more*

A redolence of musk pervades the evening's air.
Take situation in hand. Sweat and perfume. Lubricious.
Teasing digits. Pressures applied. Tense of touch.
An opening of skirts. A parting of lips. A portal.
Brush of thumb she begins to writhe. Early moaning.
Damp, wet, moist, oozing, dripping, slippy. Fruition.
Coming to. A dance of desire. So many ups and downs.
Withdraw slowly. Enter with alacrity. More is not less.
Hollows of legs on shoulders. Depth charges. Grasp of gasps.
Muscles massage. Internal grip. External eruption.
Bear down. Press your case. Silent screams. Everything ends.
Simply collapse into delight. Smooth texture. Fine night.
Flailing arms in minestrone soup,
grasping ropes in gloopy slop.

Slippery snakes in slippy hands;
bobbing bereft in beefy broth.

Croutons swirl - a death knell eddy
clumping in a bread bricked tomb.
kirk Feb 2019
Wow what a night we have had, with your **** on show
I'm partial to your lovely cheeks, but that I think you know
It didn't really take too long, I'm glad we crossed that line
The bottom of the stairs is great, but anywhere is fine

You turned me on with your nice ***, there wasn't any Doubt
Such an exciting decision, when you got your great **** out
Leant on the stairs was lovely, I knew that we would jell
We got as far as the front door, before our clothing fell

Wow what a night we have had, I enjoyed squeezing your ****
I'm glad it is quite ample, and nice and big and sparse
It's good that we got naked, I hadn't been there long
To get undressed as soon as we can, is definitely not wrong

I loved the feeling that we had, it doesn't matter where
Whether it is on a bed, or bent down on a stair
We could try it in a field, or behind a wall
You can do anything you like, with no limits at all

Wow what a night we have had, with our inhibitions shed
It's just as good going upstairs, and continuing on the bed
We both got so excited, cos we knew what we would get
A different position felt so nice, when both of us got wet

What a lovely feeling, when our legs were in a tangle
When we layed down and our bodies, were at a different angle
I didn't really want to stop, because the feeling was amazing
We got so hot forget the heating, and the double glazing

Wow what a night we have had, and still it wasn't over
Your **** is just fantastic, you came like a super nova
We went downstairs for a while, and had a little rest
The sofa was the next place, where we did what we do best

I love to feel your moisture, I fingered you until you came
You were even wetter, and I know that I'm to blame
But I wanted your body, and I just can't get enough
Biting and scratching I don't mind, or being a bit rough

Wow what a night we have had, it is such a fantasy
If I had the choice it's where, I would like to be
It was so enjoyable, and I would do it all again
My mind is always thinking, of what night and where or when

I know it can be slippy, and it can be quite surprising
Especially when it's very damp, because we have been moisturising
Five times is achievable, your glistening body's a nice sight
A Pity it had to finish, but boy Wow What A Night
Something different for valentines day
kirk May 2016
He's Lying in a fruit box in a grocers car
Swinging with Granny Smith, stuffed his own Grandma
Rolled up at the Angry Veg, went in for a jar
After crumbling granny, a lovely pair behind the bar
A randy sort of fellow, he wants to go quite far
Things where looking up, a nice pair without a Bra

Ready to get his leaves off, his pips he wants to sew
A randy kind of apple, knowing how far he wants to go
Hoping that the nice pair is a ***** kind of ***
After he is turned on, his juice will surely flow

He is such a ***** **** the fruits he liked to blow
If he's making it with Gin, he'll **** them really sloe
Peeling back his outer skin, his nakedness will show
Once her juice is flowing, that pair will start to glow
Seeing everything he's got, but no one needs to know
She'll be pulling more than pints, his *** will slowly grow

******* on a nice pair for him it is nutritious
She has her reservations because he's too ambitious
And as he gets her peel off she becomes suspicious
That he's had a *******, with ripe golden delicious

But by now it is to late for that **** pair
He has her in his power pined her to the chair
Such a ***** ******* but he has that certain flair
For getting fruity with the fruits, especially when their bare

What a swanky fellow he always plays the field
Once he gets his wicked way, nothing is concealed
He loves fruity juiciness, their succulence is revealed
Only when their both undressed and their skins are peeled
For that pair he's got her, so she has will have to yield
Once he gets inside her then she knows her fate is sealed

His hands are all over her just like a hairy spider
As his *** gets bigger spreading her legs wider
She's under his control, so he will be her rider
Ramming his *** between her leafs a juicy slippy slider
Making all their juices flow to make barrels of sweet cider
He will have to squeeze her first when he begins to ride her

After he has finished and now that she is spent
Juices have been squeezed out, leaves are torn and bent
He's had his ******* pleasure his *** that he has lent
All he wanted was a good ****, nothing was really meant
Now that he has had her, he hasn't made a dent
On many different types of fruit, he has that fruity scent
All he ever wants to do, is have them in a box or tent
**** them fast and **** them slow, until they all ferment

So that's the story of Big Apple *** who is fine and dandy
He is such a ***** fellow it's no wonder he's called Randy
**** fruit he fancies, he wants all different types of candy
He likes the young and succulent type but their not always handy
So he'll settle for old Granny smith or if not a hand shandy
And if he cannot get a ****, he'll drink a glass of brandy
Adonis Yerasimou May 2020
I've watched you countless nights and days.
Don't know your name but seen your face.
I've seen you cry and smile and laugh.
You are the One, my better half.

I know your likes your shoulds and wants.
Your musts, your wonts, your oughts and donts.
Your dreams and fears, your tears and hopes.
Your ups and downs, your slippy slopes.

I've heard you breathe, choke up and sigh.
Listed the things that make you cry.
I've watched you work, and rest and sleep.
I've felt your pain like bones deep.

To you I 'm not a that or this.
I won't be a thing you'll ever miss.
A mystery only is what I am.
For you I'm none I'm just a ****.
Put some effort into making it creepy. ;) (hehehe)
Classy J Jan 2021
Peace to sensei,
Coming to you live through airwaves,
As I wack off to ******,
Going on my own personal crusade,
Breaking walls like a man made out of Kool-Aid,
Like Muhammad Ali my flow is like a butterfly,
A war torn zealot that delivers like a pizza guy,
That thinks of your girl while he cream-pies.
Hahaha
Going in like it’s D-Day,
Call it a Gink Raid,
Hit em with a AK,
Shoot em down easier than slippy,
Slice a ****** up like it’s child’s play,
Call me a real killer like Chucky,
Hear the sirens Blair,
Oh **** gotta find a getaway.
Faster than a red hot chilli pepper,
To the cops displeasure.
Going underground like I’m master splinter,
Relaxing, steaming hams like Skinner,
Until I come up with a new plan,
That is truly evil like Mr.Sinister.
That would make a metal man,
Like Victor Vaughn approve of her.

This is a Gink Raid,
Carpe Diem,
Seize the Day,
Where human nature is displayed.

This is a Gink Raid,
A death parade,
A unpinned grenade,
Where human nature is displayed.

Times ticking closer to Doomsday.
Everyone always acts tough till it’s judgement day.
Crimes picking up, got things going sideways.
Rick Grime surviving bundles of zombies.
Simon says we better run away.
Shame gambling doesn’t pay.
Never know what lies in bouquets.
Semi-automatic bullets dance like ballets.
Piercing through flesh of desired prey.
That fall gently like flowers on summers day.
Death, an embrace none can escape.
No time for breath, when faced with fate.
Can’t hit the breaks.  
When rates have high stakes.
It’s war time, where peace comes from hate.
That takes lives for humanities sake.
A foolish pride, that existed since we were primates.
A sacrifice of blood, for a slice of cake.
That hooked crooks like bait.
Adversity is something we create.
Internally; suffocating us like restraints.
That keeps us in a sheepish state.
That innately generates,
A division of race that isolates,
A segregation which discriminates,
That dictates which traits.
Are more dominantly quaint.
That got us repeating history that betrays.
For...

This is a Gink Raid,
Carpe Diem,
Seize the Day,
Where human nature is displayed.

This is a Gink Raid,
A death parade,
A unpinned grenade,
Where human nature is displayed.
Kathryn Crowley Mar 2018
River sparkles under scowling sky
Flowing curves
Serpentine sweepings
Amidst steel and concrete.

I lived in a ghetto box here.
Nothing is permanent.

Let’s go
in a boat
through secret underground streams
to that place
deep beneath parkland roots
of elm, ash and hazel
where wise old rocks
with lime green beards
sit still in wisdom.

Do they envy us movement?
Moss is slippy underfoot.
Nothing is permanent.

Let’s alchemise emotions of liquid
Peel off layers
Abandon those old world clothes in a pile
Slip
naked
into pure warm water

Soak
in a healing cave
of glowing amethyst
Until
Through a crack in the crystal
We enter a shaft of light
Magnificent and frightening
Then emerge
into pastel skies
Return to earth
Boisterous
Forever transformed by the fusion
Welcomed back
By a squelching piano
Made of our ancestors’ mud
To play
To sing
To be.
My music is at https://soundcloud.com/musicalroutes.
phil roberts Aug 2016
Those who are expecting
A metaphor for life here
It isn't

This is about the slides we made as kids
One of our winter sports
When the snow was on the ground
We would pick a place
And tread it down over and over
Until it was compacted and hard
Then we would slide and shuffle our feet on it
Until it became shiny and slippy
Then we would slide on it
until it became longer and glassy
By then it was a proper slide
And you could charge other kids
Usually marbles or conkers
To use your slide for a while
Capitalism starts young

So one day I was up and out early
Working diligently on a wonderful slide
And it positively gleamed in the morning sun
But I had made an unfortunate error
My slide was on the public footpath
Right outside our front gate
And along came Mrs Cooper
Naturally, the inevitable happened
It was, after all, a very good slide
Some might say.....lethal

Well, her shopping bag flew into the air
Closely followed by her feet
I don't remember much about Mrs Cooper
But I do recall that she was rather rotund
And wore enormous pink bloomers
Which in itself was rather scary
Obviously, I tried to help her up
But her weight took us both back down
She shouldn't have used language like that
In front of a kid my age

You won't be surprised to read
That I suffered the consequences
I'll bet my **** was sorer than hers
And I was made to pour salt
All over my beautiful slide

                                     By Phil Roberts
Kon Grin Jun 2017
Picturesque, content and vigil,
Bearing sigil
Of her inner lion at her mouth's gate.

Loving more of dusty morning
Than I ever did her groin.
Wonder still on why she is irate.

Running down a slippy spiral;
Tempo vivo going viral;
Mind is gold and loud, words are in the shade.
when love is on the slide down a slippy *****
you dont know what to do.  dont know how to cope.
it makes you feel so sad as it slips away
the love that you once knew now began to stray.

everthing seems hopeless now your love as gone
you start losing faith  and strength to carry on
as the time goes by.  it will help you heal.
all the hurt will go and change the way you feel.

then you can you start again learn to love once more
bring back all the love that you had before
DAF Mar 2020
Real Seems
Plastic to the touch
Generic
Disingenuous
Seams and Strands of Sanity
Have begun to Unravel
AG Apr 2018
You do your best to stay away
From any feelings, any hoping
Your caution wouldn’t let you stay
In front of me with your heart open

And even those friends that you have
Can never say they really know you
Cause you make sure to keep yourself
On lock, where no one will disturb you

It’s tough to go through life alone
Relying only on your strength
But then in times when no one’s there
You’re thankful for avoiding pain
Their absence could have caused your heart

This doubtful freedom, lonely freedom
Somehow encourages to fight
Against uncertainties & fears
And dreadful thoughts you have in mind

Wake up, open your eyes & see
All slippy roads that lead to trouble
All broken parts of what could be
A dream of yours, a dream of being happy
With someone else - it never meant to happen

Your cold blood’s never been a weakness.

It’s air you breath under the water
When others drown and reach the bottom
It’s sound you hear when you are stranded
And search for path that brings you home

It’s wind that comes in early morning
And clears your head from all the doubting
It’s only thing that heals your trauma
And helps to fight the dark inside

A broken heart is not an option
It’s dead end that’s prescribed for us
Don’t let a flash of your emotions
Trick you to think it’s gonna last

Don’t give a chance for other people
To sneak in your soul when you’re weak
Stand up for what you’re believing
Stand up against their empty dreams

16-12-2017
phil roberts Nov 2016
Those who are expecting
A metaphor for life here
It isn't

This is about the slides we made as kids
One of our winter sports
When the snow was on the ground
We would pick a place
And tread it down over and over
Until it was compacted and hard
Then we would slide and shuffle our feet on it
Until it became shiny and slippy
Then we would slide on it
until it became longer and glassy
By then it was a proper slide
And you could charge other kids
Usually marbles or conkers
To use your slide for a while
Capitalism starts young

So one day I was up and out early
Working diligently on a wonderful slide
And it positively gleamed in the morning sun
But I had made an unfortunate error
My slide was on the public footpath
Right outside our front gate
And along came Mrs Cooper
Naturally, the inevitable happened
It was, after all, a very good slide
Some might say.....lethal

Well, her shopping bag flew into the air
Closely followed by her feet
I don't remember much about Mrs Cooper
But I do recall that she was rather rotund
And wore enormous pink bloomers
Which in itself was rather scary
Obviously, I tried to help her up
But her weight took us both back down
She shouldn't have used language like that
In front of a kid my age

You won't be surprised to read
That I suffered the consequences
I'll bet my **** was sorer than hers
And I was made to pour salt
All over my beautiful slide

                                     By Phil Roberts

— The End —