"slobber" poems
Christmas is traditions
some last and others die
some leave you feeling fuzzy
others leave you asking "Why?"
There's rules that must be followed
And most of them we know
About gifts and cards and Christmas trees
and then there's mistletoe....
We all know the tradition
We all know what it is
You meet under the berries
And then you both must kiss
But, there's etiquette surrounding
The dreaded mistletoe
And there are things you aren't aware of
And I thought you all should know....
Always kiss your Aunties
Do it quick and on the cheek
Their lips are full of slobber
and sometimes they just reek
Grandmas, get a quick kiss
And ignore the sounds they make
Don't hug Grannies too tightly
They are brittle and might break
Avoid the pervert Uncles
With hands and eyes that roam
They act one way at Christmas
And another way at home
The little kids, won't kiss you
So, it's fun to give them chase
Make sure there's lots of slobber
So, they can wipe it off their face
Make sure kissing Grandad
That he has got his teeth
That they're not somewhere in a glass
or worse, smiling from a wreath
Always kiss your Mum though
Beware, Mums will always cry
and they will get you going too
No matter how hard you try
Kiss the one you came with
Let them know just how you feel
That your love for them's eternal
And your love for them is real
Kissing is tradition
and at Christmas can be great
But, don't kiss all the women
And forget about your date
The most important rule of all
If you don't want your bell rung
When kissing 'neath the mistletoe
DO NOT USE THE TONGUE
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
spring omnipotent goddess thou dost
inveigle into crossing sidewalks the
unwary june-bug and the frivolous angleworm
thou dost persuade to serenade his
lady the musical tom-cat,thou stuffest
the parks with overgrown pimply
cavaliers and gumchewing giggly
girls and not content
Spring, with this
thou hangest canary-birds in parlor windows
spring slattern of seasons you
have ***** legs and a muddy
petticoat,drowsy is your
mouth your eyes are sticky
with dreams and you have
a sloppy body
from being brought to bed of crocuses
When you sing in your whiskey voice
the grass
rises on the head of the earth
and all the trees are put on edge
spring,
of the jostle of
thy ******* and the slobber
of your thighs
i am so very
glad that the soul inside me Hollers
for thou comest and your hands
are the snow
and thy fingers are the rain,
and i hear
the screech of dissonant
flowers,and most of all
i hear your stepping
freakish feet
feet incorrigible
ragging the world,
10.8k
All year the flax-dam festered in the heart
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.
There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies,
But best of all was the warm thick slobber
Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water
In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring
I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied
Specks to range on window-sills at home,
On shelves at school, and wait and watch until
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.
Then one hot day when fields were rank
With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs
Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
To a coarse croaking that I had not heard
Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus.
Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked
On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped:
The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat
Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting.
I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew
That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.
7.2k
I wanna buy a puppy
A really happy puppy
I wanna buy a puppy
A happy big-eyed puppy
I want to buy a puppy
A warm and cuddable puppy
I want to buy a puppy
A pup won't slobber silly
I wanna buy a puppy
One that's so go-lucky
A happy happy puppy
I wanna buy a puppy
I want to buy a puppy
A big fat furry puppy
The warmth and love of puppy
I really want a puppy
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
My puppy loves to run,
My puppy loves to play,
My puppy is tons of fun,
My puppy does this all day.
My puppy loves to fetch
My puppy loves to slobber
Throw a bone, he’ll catch
My puppy has even stopped a robber!
My puppy loves to run,
My puppy loves to play,
Then his fur turned grey,
And he died last May.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC
The donkey and the ox
what a racket they must have made!
Munching on the straw
from the crib in the manger.
Such thick headed beasts!
How did our Savior survive
with all of His toes -
His swaddling free of slobber?
Imagine, if you will
their warm grassy breath forming
little clouds that were filled
with His radiance.
And pity poor Joseph
asleep, off to the side, and Mary
completely exhausted.
For, while resting, they missed
what soft brown eyes sensed -
that before shepherd or angel
or wise man arrived, a feast
had been set for the taking.
(For Sherry Smith)
Tom Spencer © 2018
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
Say you want a cat. A dog's too easy,
would wag when wag is inappropriate,
and slobber on the guests. You'll take the cat,
so different and strange, it drives you crazy,
its shiftlessness, its ins-and-outs, its chi.
You call. It does not come. Is this a pet,
this Dharma *** You say you can't accept
its vacant gaze, its scorn, who yearned to be
at home with feral grace, with all you're not.
But you're a Body safely locked from Mind,
that Problem no Mind solves. This point's defined
for you by **** who's not the pet you thought
but Otherness, one owned by God, or none.
Cat sleeps for hours, wants out. A job well done.
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 9:21 AM UTC
She tastes her tongue
-stuttering, spluttering-
and recoils -bitterness
and bile- slobber down
the side of the chin,
spitting it out.
She tapes her tongue
to the front of her
teeth -so that it
does not touch her
uttering buds going
down-
Slurping loudly
the syrupy silence
and its sounds
her thirst grows
to frenzy
Sacrificial
blood offering
-trembling-
to the ancients
within her
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 12:48 AM UTC
Sinewed by the the ancient art
of tai chi, he forged the forces of the universe
to lure a dreamer into his lair. He stayed
silent as a spider; and with seamless
gliding of limbs and fingers,
he entrapped his prey like a moth
entangled in a cobweb. The sky
was bleeding then when she asked: “How
can I walk through the dusk?” “Just
follow me, I’m a pathfinder,” said
he. He whispered to her ear: “Close
your eyes my child and trust your heart.”
And to the tremor of his voice he danced
her, deeper and deeper into the night. Soon
his lips dripped with her muffled sobs, the stench
of his slobber drifted into her pristine dream;
and he confessed: “She came to me;
I’m innocent.”
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
You see, I know this guy,
with bright and gentle eyes—
sunflowers against blue skies . . .
A true angel in disguise.
He’s known since before he could fly
that he wasn’t like the other guys,
or the him in their minds, that decoy,
that never dreams of kissing a boy
for the purest joy. . .
No, he’d have to strengthen those wings
not to tangle in the strings
that sting, and cling, and sling,
to save his prince—
his king.
A feathered, armored knight,
he soars with grace and might.
In a weary world of fright,
he’d invite any height –
loyal beyond first light.
And you see, there I was, drowned in muddy water,
with gills choked on death’s slobber,
****** by the wave’s merciless slaughter
of hope, that bled and foamed atop the marauder,
and lost like the sea king’s youngest daughter,
I, a merman bobbed below the knight’s shadow.
He saw the faintest blush
of my lost soul and rushed
to grace me from my grave, flushed
and bathed me amid the rainbows in the waterfall, hushed
my toxic tears, that cursed and gushed,
and pecked my lips, as sweetly as a thrush.
His feathers fluffed, my scales standing on edge.
I nested in the angel’s white down hedge
till my heart and soul was nursed to fledge.
Our skin taught with tingly warm bumps, an intimate pledge.
I a he fell in love with he a him, and love became our kedge.
So you see, while my worries ebb and flow like the moon’s tide,
bringing questions of where a bird and fish can reside,
I trust in him I can confide, never to hide, but cast my fears aside.
We’ve already broken the surface where the air and water collide,
we need not the world far and wide,
we need only to carry each other inside
our arms, and together glide,
feathers and scales side by side.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
There was a snail (named Dale)
with a very long tail
who ventured off into the world.
He said to himself
(Dale the snail)
I'd love to meet a bootiful goil.
So in a flash from space,
with mucus running down her face,
came an alien creature called Joan,
She saw a silver line
(it was a snail trail)
and followed it to see where it goes.
And far in ...the distance
she saw in an instance
at the end of the snail trail sparkling in the sun-
A slimy and sweet
creature she'd love to meet
with a shell on his back for a home.
She said:"I do declare,
you look dashing and fair"
as bubbles oozed from her eyes.
Dale just blushed,
as his face lit up,
and said: "aw you're just saying that you sassy young blob of an alien gawjus sweet thing with no hair :)"
She looked at this tiny dream of a slobber,
he was in awe at her globber.
But their hearts sank at their difference in size.
She was glandular large
like a bright yellow barge
and he was as small as a splarge.
A stick insect saw -
the tragedy of it all
and came up with a very cunning plan.
He knew a wizard once
who ate snails for lunch,
they could trick him to changing her small...
As he told them the tale,
their faces went pale
but their love was too strong for the fear.
So they slithered and shlozzered
to Joan's flying saucer
to find the castle of Wizzy the ****
The wizard was waiting
with his eyes full of hating
and a knife and a fork in each hand.
There was garlic and salt
that he took from his vault
and he drooled on his beard as he sang:
"Alien Shpeegle
with shnails in shmeegle,
a delightful shurprishe for a man!
Groggy my groach
with shome shlime on my toasht"
and he pranced and danced with his band.
The spacecraft landed,
unexpectant of ambush,
the couple wanderd on in.
Wizzy swung from a rafter
and trapped Dale in a corner,
and said: "My you'll go well with my Shtew!"
Joan got mad
and rolled on to her lad
and ****** the wizard into her goo.
She suddenly felt all tingly
as she turned into a twinky,
there was nothing more she could do.
The Wizard escaped
and poor Dale met his fate,
and was smeared on the twinky sliced in two.
Wizzy gobbled them up
with some glee in his cup,
and then succumbed to food poisoning goo.
So it seemed that it ended
on that dark cold September,
for the lovers who's loving was doomed...
But on a planet far away
at the early break of day
two souls bubbled in primordial stew.
An amoeba named Dale
and an amoeba named Joan
were floating in bubbles of gas,
So deep the attraction
-the magnetized action,
they could now be together at last.
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 1:38 AM UTC
THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs
On the night sky hair of the women,
And the long light-fingered men
Spoke to the dark-haired women,
"Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier."
How could he sit there among us all
Guzzling blood into his guts,
Goblets, mugs, buckets-
Leaning, toppling, laughing
With a slobber on his mouth,
A smear of red on his strong raw lips,
How could he sit there
And only two or three of us see him?
There was nothing to it.
He wasn't there at all, of course.
The roses leaned from the pots.
The sprays snot roses gold and red
And the roses slanted crimson sobs
In the night sky hair
And the voices chattered on the way
To the frappe, speaking of pictures,
Speaking of a strip of black velvet
Crossing a girlish woman's throat,
Speaking of the mystic music flash
Of pots and sprays of roses,
"Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier."
1.9k
Look at it, your finger isn't an
"Eraser"
Stop
STop
STOP
Trying to rub it out,
What are you doing
Spitting
on your
Fingers
If the love furnace isn't
warm, no amount of you
Mingging slobber will
Light this fire that needs a
Spark,
Flame,
Fire
Of passionate lust to
This I must say, what's been
On your fingers,
"Really spit from your mouth"
I don't want it smelling of
Bad Breath,
Garlic,
Morning Breath
"PASSION ALERT"
Wash you hands
Fingers too
Its called
"Mouth wash"
Use it too,
Do you know how delicate
This instrument
Your putting your fingers on?
Its the only one I have got
"So don't break it"
**!!That my ****
That's a ********
Rub it gently
Don't rub it out, or ill bite your nose
That my *****
Did you ever do
*** Ed at school"**
Jesus I use my emergency
Stimulator
Don't feel intimidated
Yes its how you use it,
Cough
Cough
Cough
Now go, a woman needs her
Five speed friend, ill be awhile
So don't bother me,
And don't forget to
Close the door on your way out.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
You're real bold with that text
"Yes baby. Slobber all over that ----..."
Sorry, NEXT.
Boys want Women to tend to their pacifier
But to think you'd think that I would even....
"Tch, The devil is a liar."
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
0623
*yeah, mom's sleeping still and i have to go out. i keep throwing my bone at the cage and she keeps telling me to lay down and go to sleep, but mom, I HAVE TO ***
0630
ok, moms up now and she took me out. i peed three whole times and sniffed a few other dogs' trails. i wish those other dogs would stay out of my yard. don't their parents know this is my yard? maybe you should tell them
0800
Woooooooooooooooooooo, Yip Yip Yip! it's time to eat! nom nom nom nom!
0825
mom is annoyed with me so she gave me a new bone to chew on. she calls it a bonut because it's shaped like a donut. i'd rather have a real donut.
0940
i must've been good because mom gave me a treat. i'm so good when i sleep. <----Hey dad, look, i'm a poet just like you!
1134
how am i texting you? i have no thumbs...or no phone for that matter
1500
Yip Yip Yip! you just pulled up! you're home! be prepared, i'm gonna attack you once you open the door and slobber all over your face!!!
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 6:22 PM UTC
We rang in the new year
On a mattress thrown on your
Living room floor
With the ball drop
On a desktop computer screen
The sound was lagging
Behind the images
And we were laughing
At how we always end up
Stuck in the past
You threw your arms around me
And let your kisses land
Carelessly wherever
They fell
And I outlined your jaw bone
With my pointer finger,
Threading it through
Your beard
And looking into your
Lazy eyes
You counted the times I said
"Like okay" at the beginning of a story
And by 5 AM , you announced
We'd reached a healthy twenty
You kept apologizing
For the way your dog
Was relentlessly
Licking my neck
But honestly
Even with her slobber
And yours
Dripping over my collar bones
And even with the night air
Tingling on my thighs,
Just a little too thick,
Just a little too warm,
Even with my straightened hair
Curling at its ends
And your brother's girlfriend's
Faint moaning sounds from behind
A locked door
There was nothing I'd rather be doing
Than watching your eyes expand and contract
To the rhythm of your stories
Before the blue light of television
Overlapping moon lit window sills
And dark spaces
You are the yellow light love,
Symbolism with a pulse,
Saying "it's officially 2017"
With a begging grin
And an undercurrent of
Gentle laughter,
Standing for change
And growth
And warmth
And simplicity
You are transparent
And in the palms of your hands
I see the year panned out
In blue veins
And freckles
And it is kind hearted
And it is forgiving
And it is kissing my forehead
And letting me breathe
I know this is going to
Be a good one
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
Oh ache I ache
Look at my aim
My ache is the answer
Block that shame
Father that baby
Baby that father
Shame your brother
Blubber and bother
Bother that blubber
Sober, I slobber
Clobber that slobber
Aim to smother my lover
With harangues to the beat
That will bloom in this box
I harangue till the end
Blooms ends with tick tocks
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
nothing ever makes sense
when its all upside-out-inside-down
when its all mixed up like her heart
like her thoughts till she can **** on a big fat joint
she always says dont bogart
and dont be lipping my paper...dont want your slobber on my doobie
then she relaxes into her day
but my backwards head thinks shes allready gone
least thats what im seeing in my
upside-out-inside-down thinking
shes doing her nails
and out of the corner of my mind
i am watching her her packing her life up and moving on
im imagining what will it be like if she was gone
know that redhead would come more often
know that my days wouldnt be as good
know my nights wouldnt have any passion or hope
that my world would be empty
but then she comes over to me and slips hers arms round me
and all that upside down inside out backwards thinking is a lie
shes not going anywhere without me
and she whispers a soft word on my ear
baby dont you ever leave me
this is no ordinary love
this is passion
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
I can still see the lights flashing
off the walls of the Crossroads Cafe
the red and blue turrets spinning gyroscopically
as they loaded the old guy in the ambulance
sliding the gurney in
like a tray of bread into the oven
but that old guy ain’t getting cooked
and coming out smelling fresh
they worked on him ten minutes
on that ***** diner linoleum
while our food got cold
three of us, at least, punched in 911
on our cells, all being told by the dispatch
the paramedics were already on their way
like maybe someone had a crystal ball
and knew the ancient diner
was going to fall flat on the floor
when he got up to pay his check
(for $4.88 I think)
I could see three quarters on the Formica
his silver goodbye to the world
his gift to some faceless waitress
who would not sleep that night
without an extra couple of beers
because his face, contorted and staring
into the florescent haze above him,
would still be in her head
when she closed her eyes…
after the cops and the paramedics
disappeared into the night
I ate what was left of my cold eggs and hash
when I got up to pay, my chest felt tight,
only for a second, under that same buzzing light,
when I crossed the spot where the old guy had lain
a fat roach made its way across the floor
through the last somber slobber
the man would ever drip
I crushed him casually,
remembering
I had forgotten
the tip
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
You raised them
You should keep them
And pay all their bills;
What you raised spills
Over into the common weal
And fears become real
As they are ignorant
Greedy and mean
Worst we’ve ever seen
And no hope of salvation
From your creation.
Are you afraid of your kid?
Is that what you did;
Let him or her do whatever
And you never told them
What is wisdom or whim?
Let them do what they please
As long as they don’t sneeze
In church or belch loudly
Then you can go on proudly
Bragging about your good child
Until they run totally wild
And get themselves arrested.
Then your lies are bested
And your laziness outed.
No wonder you pouted.
When things go wrong
You want someone to come along
And take care of things
And pay the fines that brings
Because they are sweet, down deep.
Then you go back to sleep
Because life should be easy for you
And the things your kids do
Are not your fault, so back out to buy
More magazines about movie stars
And slobber over newer cars
And ***** about the schools
Not teaching them the rules
And how to pursue them
Then you go out and sue them
For teaching what you do
And not what kids should do.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC
Talking
Always talking
Clock refusing to stop
Haggard chops cop slobber
Saliva’s dripping off
Bored exhalations
Mix
Mental ice
With
Warm air
Mere exposure
Drafting
Numb staring stupor
Sleepy
Waiting to hear
Friday night brew cheers near
Oh! There’s an hour cleared!
Closing on those last four
Funny
Hours I fling so freely
I most adore
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
The time numbs. I want it raw like it was.
Like ************ and ******
Something powerful and honest.
I let lies continue.
Fantasies I tease myself with.
I never follow these potential trails.
I’m terrified of not having blissful reverie.
Closure haunts me. I’m scared of definition.
I live in a time that never ends.
I breath the exhaust we know but cannot see.
The world spins upon my shoulders, I pass it on without using my hands.
People die, it’s distant.
Life doesn’t mean much.
I live here in a puddle.
I love all the potential I have to waste.
I don’t know what I would slobber on without it.
I want something raw.
Something abrasive, without some sort of superficial veil.
If I brush back another thin facade just to uncover a clearer image of ********
I’ll slump the world with my bear hands, and whatever blunt object is abreast.
The ensuing postlude or coattail if you will, is gruesome and redefines the word genocide.
Life passes by because it’s not cut with iron anymore. It’s chiseled away with fantastic stone and underlying hopeful chimes of music. A method to which leaves reality unclear, and insipid. Quite literally dull and un-vitriolic.
The time jingoes tore babies from teats, bounced sore bosoms, and buried John Doe’s in mass graves beside schools. Is long gone.
I live in a butterfly massacre.
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 2:51 PM UTC
Who thumps against me in the dark
And rings the jingles by the door
To let me know he has to *** a little after four,
Then barks at neighbors passing by
To let them know a guard is nigh?
Who chews my phone and my remote
And tears the pillow stuffings out,
Then wags his tail with sheepish smiles
And makes me laugh when I should pout?
Whose breath defeats my appetite
And slobber covers everything in sight
And pounces on our comfy bed at night
When I have snuggled in just right?
Tucker Freitas is his human name,
A wooly Labradoodle with no shame,
(We call the "grand-dog" to his face
But other things when in disgrace).
So would I have him any other way,
Say in a kennel or a fricassee,
Or stuffed and lying on a frame?
No, I will love him in his puppied self
Content to know he loves me as myself.
The company he gives is pure as gold,
His eager joy at seeing me is never old;
He's healthy and excited each time he hits my door,
Tongue hanging out and slobber flying,
Four feet sliding on the polished floor,
Remembering treats and wanting more.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
Is there romance in ***
Does romance deplete once kisses turn to slobber?
Do I feel love when my shirt comes off?
After "I love yous" have been said
Or more accurately,
after I finally said "I love you too"
They lay me down
Say they need me
In this moment
It means so much to them.
And I can't tell
Was it romantic?
Would it have been moreso
If we just
Held hands?
Or stared at each other
In loving astonishment
At our mutual feelings?
Am I learning to feel the romance in ***
Or do I just adore
That they
find romance in something that is so
sexualized?
Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 11:35 PM UTC