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"smack" poems
I wear a scarf to keep my words warm. So you will smile when they smack you in the face.
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Scarf
Smack After every slap And stroke. the whip, cracks across your back. Flush with arousal, Immense pleasure, your body reacts. your lesson reaching you teaching you how to relax As your legs spread, your mind relapses.
0
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
****
They look out from the terrace. At the borders of sight live rocky hills behind brown and golden and olive crop under a cloudless sky. BANG! An artificial cloud. “Mira,” she points, “Venga!” They fly down stairs, diving like sparrows into the street. Boys sprint across pavements and climb; men vault over fences in time for news to reach ears. "¡Ya vienen!" Excitement and fear. The rattling of cow bells and galloping nears. Men bait and dodge horns and escape through doors and up and over red wooden bars. Sticks beat on the concrete ground and closer, louder, gallops sound. Seconds away – until the last, he side steps into a house; indoors, apart, he runs through the foyer and up the stairs around a corner with long strides too fast to follow. She chooses left and sings soprano when doors won't budge and        it                       crashes                                        in. She turns and the fear is paralysing. "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" He hurdles the stairs and explodes but it rams her to and fro, thrashing her head against the wall where horns sin and gore cement and brick. He clasps the tail and heaves its hide from side to side as hooves smash crates of wine - they slip and slide in fractured glass; he finds a horn and yanks the head! He's yanked instead near dead before the men arrive down stairs to punch and kick it; strike and stick it smack and hit it; 'til it fits and quits and flees the foyer, fast and frantic, flying flustered by the frenzy, finally finding pattering paves it peters off down the street. "¿Que ha pasado?   ¿Quien ha sido?   ¡El Balbotin   y la Chicha!   ¡Que una vaca   les ha pillado!" "¿Estas bien?" Dizzy she's there with searching hands and scolding. "Podria haber sido peor"
0
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
Fermin el Balbotin
They look out from the terrace. At the borders of sight live rocky hills behind brown and golden and olive crop under a cloudless sky. BANG! An artificial cloud. “Mira,” she points, “Venga!” They fly down stairs, diving like sparrows into the street. Boys sprint across pavements and climb; men vault over fences in time for news to reach ears. "¡Ya vienen!" Excitement and fear. The rattling of cow bells and galloping nears. Men bait and dodge horns and escape through doors and up and over red wooden bars. Sticks beat on the concrete ground and closer, louder, gallops sound. Seconds away – until the last, he side steps into a house; indoors, apart, he runs through the foyer and up the stairs around a corner with long strides too fast to follow. She chooses left and sings soprano when doors won't budge and        it                       crashes                                        in. She turns and the fear is paralysing. "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" He hurdles the stairs and explodes but it rams her to and fro, thrashing her head against the wall where horns sin and gore cement and brick. He clasps the tail and heaves its hide from side to side as hooves smash crates of wine - they slip and slide in fractured glass; he finds a horn and yanks the head! He's yanked instead near dead before the men arrive down stairs to punch and kick it; strike and stick it smack and hit it; 'til it fits and quits and flees the foyer, fast and frantic, flying flustered by the frenzy, finally finding pattering paves it peters off down the street. "¿Que ha pasado?   ¿Quien ha sido?   ¡El Balbotin   y la Chicha!   ¡Que una vaca   les ha pillado!" "¿Estas bien?" Dizzy she's there with searching hands and scolding. "Podria haber sido peor"
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95
Hold you down. Tie you down. Handcuff you to our big bed. Slowly tear your clothes from your warm smooth body. Down to your bra and ******* Kiss you all over and lick some parts. Then I'll slowly start to unbutton my shirt and take off my pants, leaving me exposed. Slowly, is how I'm going to crawl on your body as I feel your wetness through your ******* and I start to rub my hard **** on the wet stain. I'll slip my hand under your back and unhook your bra and then slowly slip it off with my teeth. Then I'll rip your ******* off with my bare hands. When I see your nice sweet ***** I'll kiss it and then start to lick it. Squeezing your thighs and eating you out as you say my name in pleasure. Then I'll unlock the handcuffs and carry you and put you on top of me. I'll slowly start to slip my hard **** inside your tight ***** As you make your faces of pain and pleasure. As you go up and down on me, everytime I'll go in deeper and gain speed. I'll claw at your back as you're riding me and smack your *** As I'm playing with your **** you'll move your hair out of your face. Your sweat hitting my chest, mixing with mine, and me close to ******* I'll look into your eyes as I whisper I love you and you whisper it back. Me letting go will cause you to ****** and our bodies will shake in pleasure. You feel me *** hard inside your ***** You bend down to kiss me and I kiss you back softly.When we leave that room we know that we might have just made a baby...
0
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
The Room
One day my brother and I walked the path to the Mango Tree I was so happy to go see my friend the mango tree. How ever my brother was not… “What’s so great about a stupid ol’ mango tree it’s never done anything for me!” “SHH!” I said scornfully “She has feelings too, and she has done much for you. She has given us her fruit to fill our bellies and shade for free.” But my brother didn’t listen to me, He stubbornly went and kicked the tree repeatedly. And yelled “Mango Trees do NOT have feelings!” The tree shook violently and out from under it’s leaves dropped a bright green mango SMACK right on my brothers head and he fell dead. Another juicy plump mango dropped at my feet like the Mango Tree was thanking me. I picked it up and sat beside my senseless brother by the Mango Tree while devouring my mango and enjoying the silent scenery.
0
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
Irony of the Mango Tree
...about to do FORTY YEARS... **how much more do you need to see that you are in a tyranny?** This is akin to handing Socrates a poisoned vial Dre, in his new documentary on HBO... he says, if it doesn't feel right I'M OUT. * Does THIS feel right? * a million+white kids feel yah, a million plus feel yah TIME TO GET OUT! 9/29/2017 If I were a White Judge, Man what i would give to have gone to law school and been a White Judge Right Now A Black Capitalist acts like J.P. Morgan * *"Off the chain I leave CONGRESS soft in the brain cause SCUMBAGS still want the fame, off the name, First of all, you ain't STOLE long enough to be fu ckin with me and you, you ain't strong enough So whatever it is you puffin on that got you think that you Superman I got the Kryptonite, should I smack him with my **** and the mic?"* * -DMX (sic) reverse psychology works don't it?
0
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 6:02 PM UTC
DMX?
When I saw her The first woman with the first wide eyes Bright and light and dark and deep With life and mystery My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum And the first song was sung In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago When I first breathed that first scent My sight stopped My mind stopped My mind was my body and my hands and my gut And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time And it slowed down like an ice age beginning Then it melted into warm fire Where it burned The first touch of the first woman Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart The spark from the start of her heart beat Crossed through the fibers and Traveled down the pathways of her body Down the chemical electric synapses Through her arm and jumped across to my hand And traveled up and started a new beat It was a faster, and stronger beat And it beat And it beat Like the first dance, Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet Oh the first woman was all women And then there were other women And they were people Flesh and blood And minds and thoughts And feelings that I could not feel Good and bad and indifferent With hangups and problems Blemishes and baggage I met women coming Women going Here and there Now and then For coffee, for beer, One evening or ten I met scientists, nurses bartenders and baristas. Living lives I didn't mind Giving time when it was mine Asking for things I couldn't find Then I saw You All of you In time and space and speed I caught the scent of you Your fragrance and perfume And the primal musk of you That fatal lusts allure I felt you The gravity of your body from across the room Your electro-magnetic force pulling Pressure of the displaced particles pushing As you walked so slowly towards me And time stopped Light and sound and movement were captured Captive to your hypnotic sway Prisoner to your power over my perception You moved through the still air And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed The world was quiet And then it pounded   The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it As you moved closer, Like ride of the Valkyries Rising and crashing in waves It rose as you moved towards me You carried it in your wake And then it was a crescendo A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes As you stopped a few feet from me And time was stopped You were the first woman You were all women You are The only woman
0
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
The First Woman
When I saw her The first woman with the first wide eyes Bright and light and dark and deep With life and mystery My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum And the first song was sung In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago When I first breathed that first scent My sight stopped My mind stopped My mind was my body and my hands and my gut And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time And it slowed down like an ice age beginning Then it melted into warm fire Where it burned The first touch of the first woman Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart The spark from the start of her heart beat Crossed through the fibers and Traveled down the pathways of her body Down the chemical electric synapses Through her arm and jumped across to my hand And traveled up and started a new beat It was a faster, and stronger beat And it beat And it beat Like the first dance, Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet Oh the first woman was all women And then there were other women And they were people Flesh and blood And minds and thoughts And feelings that I could not feel Good and bad and indifferent With hangups and problems Blemishes and baggage I met women coming Women going Here and there Now and then For coffee, for beer, One evening or ten I met scientists, nurses bartenders and baristas. Living lives I didn't mind Giving time when it was mine Asking for things I couldn't find Then I saw You All of you In time and space and speed I caught the scent of you Your fragrance and perfume And the primal musk of you That fatal lusts allure I felt you The gravity of your body from across the room Your electro-magnetic force pulling Pressure of the displaced particles pushing As you walked so slowly towards me And time stopped Light and sound and movement were captured Captive to your hypnotic sway Prisoner to your power over my perception You moved through the still air And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed The world was quiet And then it pounded   The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it As you moved closer, Like ride of the Valkyries Rising and crashing in waves It rose as you moved towards me You carried it in your wake And then it was a crescendo A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes As you stopped a few feet from me And time was stopped You were the first woman You were all women You are The only woman
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86
picky teaser lota pizza flamingo burnin' gerhkin wordin' processing pro gramme lots a purple tan tanging tongue tear stupid deer croissant croissant croissant (are you here?) rich and faming silly daydream little cupid castle cooped chicken kickin' malicious software (are we there?) yet cooky suki mikky mopy skiing slopy tear out control shout doubt pout trouble double choc tim tam ginge sortafairy tail of a bat rat smack (should we pack?) and CRACK goes ankle blowing soccer flowin' talk tak no silly silly silly all these years (should I be crying these tears?) hello again a pen? why thanks some lunch punch crunch an ankle swollen ready all flail fall (?)
0
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
not being sarcastic not
A new year is come and you're still not gone. I can feel you creeping up on me. You feed on my energy, yet, I cannot see you. I'm glad I can't see your face. You smell like an old forgotten rot underneath a seam of doors hiding the old death of forgotten men. Your cousin looms, taunting me to acknowledge your presence. You climb on my back--you've caught up to me. I've tried running, it doesn't help. You live under my shadow; you're quiet like him too. I can hear the smack of your lips graze across my consciousness, your breath--icy. You touch my eyes and they freeze without freezing. The hairs on the back of my head hurt because they stand on end amidst your frozen breath. You make your move and whisper icily into my ear, . . . . You're nothing. I almost agree. . . . . No one loves you. My wife does! And my daughter too! . . . . No one wants to hear you speak. Fine, I'll shut up. I look into a mirror to see my reflection staring back at me. My icy stare sends chills to my bones. Is that really me? . . . . Yes, you're dead. Sometimes I feel like it, yeah. . . . . Nothing matters. Finally, we agree on something. . . . . It would be better if you just weren't here. I begin to cry. . . . . Remember your daughter, here's a picture. She's so beautiful. I cry some more. . . . . You will fail her. . . . . You have failed her. . . . . I will consume her. . . . . You perpetuated this all on your own. . . . . You're a fraud, seeking pity. . . . . You're a sorry person, aren't you? . . . . Feel that burning inside you? This is what happens when you let in the dark passenger. . . . . I shall consume you, too. . . . . --AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT. Yes, it is my fault. Like the fault line in the earth's crust, my mind splits in twain. The excitement ends when I've become drunk with madness, not seeing the light around me. I sleep a little, contemplating all that I convinced myself. In the morning the sun is out, shining through the window. You're still sleeping though, dear dark passenger. I try not to wake you. I seek the sun hoping you will disappear and take your darkness with you, but you persevere, keeping your hands at the ready until I am vulnerable again, waiting to make my dance to the tune of hopelessness--always just, "one more time."
0
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
The Dark Passenger
A new year is come and you're still not gone. I can feel you creeping up on me. You feed on my energy, yet, I cannot see you. I'm glad I can't see your face. You smell like an old forgotten rot underneath a seam of doors hiding the old death of forgotten men. Your cousin looms, taunting me to acknowledge your presence. You climb on my back--you've caught up to me. I've tried running, it doesn't help. You live under my shadow; you're quiet like him too. I can hear the smack of your lips graze across my consciousness, your breath--icy. You touch my eyes and they freeze without freezing. The hairs on the back of my head hurt because they stand on end amidst your frozen breath. You make your move and whisper icily into my ear, . . . . You're nothing. I almost agree. . . . . No one loves you. My wife does! And my daughter too! . . . . No one wants to hear you speak. Fine, I'll shut up. I look into a mirror to see my reflection staring back at me. My icy stare sends chills to my bones. Is that really me? . . . . Yes, you're dead. Sometimes I feel like it, yeah. . . . . Nothing matters. Finally, we agree on something. . . . . It would be better if you just weren't here. I begin to cry. . . . . Remember your daughter, here's a picture. She's so beautiful. I cry some more. . . . . You will fail her. . . . . You have failed her. . . . . I will consume her. . . . . You perpetuated this all on your own. . . . . You're a fraud, seeking pity. . . . . You're a sorry person, aren't you? . . . . Feel that burning inside you? This is what happens when you let in the dark passenger. . . . . I shall consume you, too. . . . . --AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT. Yes, it is my fault. Like the fault line in the earth's crust, my mind splits in twain. The excitement ends when I've become drunk with madness, not seeing the light around me. I sleep a little, contemplating all that I convinced myself. In the morning the sun is out, shining through the window. You're still sleeping though, dear dark passenger. I try not to wake you. I seek the sun hoping you will disappear and take your darkness with you, but you persevere, keeping your hands at the ready until I am vulnerable again, waiting to make my dance to the tune of hopelessness--always just, "one more time."
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32
Oh Language, where hast thou hid thyself? Thy once-bright spires decline to dust. The calm, well-reasoned flow of wisdom a bygone memory. I’ll not trust these tween-to-twenty-something’s prattle; endless babble of self-absorption centered in pleasure-maximizing: narcissistic thought-abortion. Dude—they’re SO not app’ed for language used by dad ten years ago. I’m totally DONE with their, like, verbiage They’re all: Smartphone Teenage Show. It’s just, like, TALKING—without words in language ghettos; texting proud . . . Their lack of precision offends my brain— They ought to be ashamed (out loud). Vygotsky’s vaunted Z.P.D, and Bakhtin’s heteroglossic crack along with Roland Barthe’s pet parrot Are SO like totally talking smack.
0
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
Hung on a Psychosociolinguistic Scaffold
I bet I could stretch Like you've never seen before With the crook of my finger And a wink, let the games begin You want to struggle My little **** toy? Ah ah ah, let's tie these hands Behind your back Don't get any ideas Pet Obey me, lie on your belly Crush your head into the pillow Cringe and squirm, please Let me just, strap this on Not listening, hm? I have other things Leather, that will leave marks On your tender, innocent flesh Let my fingers coil Make it harder to breathe Force you down By a pull of your hair I'm going to be an animal And you will be the prey I will feast on you I will nibble you Bite you into submission Pinch and squeeze Smack and tease Say please I will go on Long after you thought To say no, until All you want is More, more, more I will chew through you I will dominate you I dare you to struggle My little **** toy
0
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
******
one April dusk the sallow street-lamps were turning snowy against a west of robin’s egg blue when i entered a mad street whose mouth dripped with slavver of spring chased two flights of squirrel-stairs into a mid-victorian attic which is known as O ΠΑΡΞΕΝΩΝ and having ordered yaoorti from Nicho’ settled my feet on the ceiling inhaling six divine inches of Haremina in the thick of the snick- er of cards and smack of back- gammon boards i was aware of an entirely ***** circle of habitués their faces like cigarettebutts, chewed with disdain, led by a Jumpy ***** who played each card as if it were a thunderbolt red- hot peeling off huge slabs of a fuzzy language with the aid of an exclamatory tooth-pick And who may that be i said exhaling into eternity as Nicho’ laid before me bread more downy than street-lamps upon an almostclean plate “Achilles” said Nicho’ “and did you perhaps wish also shishkabob?”
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11k
One April Dusk The
You already know, young Dan pops the heater Come and slam a ***** like a WWE Diva. I go H.A.M on the track, tote the mac Any ***** talk **** Imma smack him with the strap. So racked up, I could buy the mall Come through, shop at Mr.Big and Mr.Tall.
0
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
Swag Overdose.
His strong hands gripped me everywhere, he knew my sensitive places. My eyes shone due to my intense obedience and humiliation. I started to perspire in an excitable way. My legs began to shake. I could feel his affection through his endless kiss. I felt intimidated. He loved me. I can still feel his indomitable hands around me, he knows my vulnerable spots. My eyes glisten from my potent passiveness and embarrassment. I break out in nervous sweats. My legs are trembling. I can feel his devotion in an infinite smack. I feel terrorized. He's attached to me.
0
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
Sickening Synonyms That Should Be Antonyms (will be deleted)
Every week we bypass each other As if neither of our existences Matter much to one another From across the room We gaze at each other Time further elapsing How my mouth just waters By the way you sway your hips As you perform your **** walk **** Would I ever love To softly smack that backside The way you flaunt drives me wild And then you turn to flash That lovely trademark smile Seducing me over the edge Purring like a naughty kitten I say: 'I want you...' 'I need you...' 'Come play with me I don't bite.' Upon my lap she jumped In her sexiest tone she whispered 'Let our bodies take the shape of lust.' © 2011 (All rights reserved)
0
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 1:16 AM UTC
Naughty Jaguar
Carnal instinct, mixed with leather bound books and leather on belts you tie me up, and smack me your kisses taste like blood Your tongue is filthy, your mind is wicked I'm full of tears, I'm wet you snarl you just want to see the bruises on my neck you just want to hear me beg You pick me up, and carry me to bed now, I'm royal now I'm sweet and raw and red now we'll rest head on head now I've done just as you said
0
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
sub.
Dear Best friend, You know who you are. You are the beautiful girl in the back of the class, who keeps to herself, but is still strangely likable. You are the girl with the piercing blue eyes and dark, dark sense of humor. Dear Best Friend, I know you literally are always willing to listen, whether it is talking about our mutual crush on that guy in our favourite class, or complaining about society, or my parents, or when I just need to talk about the weather to distract myself from the looming fear of everything going wrong. Dear Best Friend, I still remember when you first told me about your depression. I had always sort of known, but hearing you say it out loud, I honestly didn’t know what to do, because I don’t want you to end up like me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to turn to sharp inanimate objects, I don’t want your world to be dark, hopeless, I don’t want you to fall because depression is a slippery slope, trust me. I don’t want you to forever be broken. I don’t want you to be scared. I just don’t want you to end up as ****** up as me. Dear Best Friend, I know I’m not perfect, I’m not even close, and I ***** up... A lot. But I will do what ever I can to ALWAYS be there for you. I will always be the dorky, idiotic, annoying sidekick. Dear Best Friend, You are beautiful, don’t let anyone, ever tell you otherwise. Especially not some 12 year old boy with a stupid haircut. You are short, there is no denying that, but so is Billie Joe Armstrong and we still think he is the hottest thing since wood stoves. You have blue eyes, that I know you think are weird, but they are like oceans only not as dark. Your hair is almost as straight as the members in half the bands we listen to, but each curl falls in it’s own special place You are beautiful, stunning, breath-taking, and every other synonym for that word. Dear Best Friend, I’m sorry you have to put up with me when I am like this. I know I should just bottle it up, but for whatever reason it always seems like I can’t stop the words from escaping. I’m sorry, I am so so sorry that you have to deal with me. Dear Best Friend, I really want to smack you upside the face with a brick sometimes. But I won’t, because I am more scared of you hitting back than I am of doctors (and that’s saying something) Dear Best Friend, I promise that I will always be there as long as you need me, whether it’s in the middle of the night or when I am thousands of miles away with timezone barriers between us, just call me. When you are scared, call me. When what you are scared of is yourself, call me. When you need a friend, call me. When you want to gush about your new boyfriend, call me. When you want to just chat, call me. Dear Best Friend, At this point I think of you more like a sister that a friend. So, Dear Sister, I love you so much. Thank you for showing me that even the darkest nights have a sunrise, and that those sunrises are always the most spectacular.
0
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
Dear Best Friend
Dear Best friend, You know who you are. You are the beautiful girl in the back of the class, who keeps to herself, but is still strangely likable. You are the girl with the piercing blue eyes and dark, dark sense of humor. Dear Best Friend, I know you literally are always willing to listen, whether it is talking about our mutual crush on that guy in our favourite class, or complaining about society, or my parents, or when I just need to talk about the weather to distract myself from the looming fear of everything going wrong. Dear Best Friend, I still remember when you first told me about your depression. I had always sort of known, but hearing you say it out loud, I honestly didn’t know what to do, because I don’t want you to end up like me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to turn to sharp inanimate objects, I don’t want your world to be dark, hopeless, I don’t want you to fall because depression is a slippery slope, trust me. I don’t want you to forever be broken. I don’t want you to be scared. I just don’t want you to end up as ****** up as me. Dear Best Friend, I know I’m not perfect, I’m not even close, and I ***** up... A lot. But I will do what ever I can to ALWAYS be there for you. I will always be the dorky, idiotic, annoying sidekick. Dear Best Friend, You are beautiful, don’t let anyone, ever tell you otherwise. Especially not some 12 year old boy with a stupid haircut. You are short, there is no denying that, but so is Billie Joe Armstrong and we still think he is the hottest thing since wood stoves. You have blue eyes, that I know you think are weird, but they are like oceans only not as dark. Your hair is almost as straight as the members in half the bands we listen to, but each curl falls in it’s own special place You are beautiful, stunning, breath-taking, and every other synonym for that word. Dear Best Friend, I’m sorry you have to put up with me when I am like this. I know I should just bottle it up, but for whatever reason it always seems like I can’t stop the words from escaping. I’m sorry, I am so so sorry that you have to deal with me. Dear Best Friend, I really want to smack you upside the face with a brick sometimes. But I won’t, because I am more scared of you hitting back than I am of doctors (and that’s saying something) Dear Best Friend, I promise that I will always be there as long as you need me, whether it’s in the middle of the night or when I am thousands of miles away with timezone barriers between us, just call me. When you are scared, call me. When what you are scared of is yourself, call me. When you need a friend, call me. When you want to gush about your new boyfriend, call me. When you want to just chat, call me. Dear Best Friend, At this point I think of you more like a sister that a friend. So, Dear Sister, I love you so much. Thank you for showing me that even the darkest nights have a sunrise, and that those sunrises are always the most spectacular.
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24
I bow down my head straight into the pillow. I whine a funny sound and wonder about duty. Life seems to be all and all seems to be nothing but disappointment. Anointed to be dead from the first time I was alive. I strive to show hope, to be a silent messenger, but duty seems to hold me back. The great deep red within always wants to fight back. Smack the wrong until it's right, snack on the souls so easily broken by a single word that refutes their madness, while my face turns to a smile. Walking a mile in my shoes is being hungry for relief. Starving for sanity shows my vanity.
0
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
Night Time Self Hate
I am fat like an overused **** If you need some crack gimme some smack and ill make you lick my ***** until my *** goes splat. All over your face please put away the mace I only want to *** on your sister's face. I **** at poems I hate America the next chance i get ill give it back to the Cherroka. This will not rhyme I hate poetry. its only for dumbfucks who want to drink coffee with hipsters and lick obamas ***** I love black people and my ***** is gigantic. Goodbye :D I still hate Titanic.
0
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
I am fat
Between the sheets, in perfect peace, The back and forth is synchronous. The movements slow but never cease, Then rise with violence amorous. Between the sheets, yet closer still, The lust for love becomes sublime, One slides in to the other’s fill The coming moments beyond time. Between the sheets, the eyes roll back, The light caress has now dug in, Moans interrupted by a smack Of rhythmic impact skin in skin. Between the sheets, in unison, The lovers’ gush of spirit meets, Their finished glow beams like the sun. They lie alone—where are the sheets?
0
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 10:07 PM UTC
Between The Sheets
The screaming cheers travel a distance far in the divided hall the yellows and blues await the serving ball an overhand strike the ball speeds across the mid-line the yellows dig, set & attack the blues fling & smack fearless & skilled the crowd hails winning or defeat is a victory for all for the love of volleyball
0
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
MU Games: Volleyball
You can look at a puzzle for hours and hours and try to fit the pieces together the way they should be, but then you're gonna see a space smack dab in the middle, and you won't be able to find the piece to complete the picture. You and I have all the pieces, we just chose the wrong time to figure out the puzzle.
0
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
Puzzles
“What do you think The bravest drink Under the sky?” “Strong beer,” said I. “There’s a place for everything, Everything, anything, There’s a place for everything Where it ought to be: For a chicken, the hen’s wing; For poison, the bee’s sting; For almond-blossom, Spring; A beerhouse for me.” “There’s a prize for every one Every one, any one, There’s a prize for every one, Whoever he may be: Crags for the mountaineer, Flags for the Fusilier, For English poets, beer! Strong beer for me!” “Tell us, now, how and when We may find the bravest men?” “A sure test, an easy test: Those that drink beer are the best, Brown beer strongly brewed, English drink and English food.” Oh, never choose as Gideon chose By the cold well, but rather those Who look on beer when it is brown, Smack their lips and gulp it down. Leave the lads who tamely drink With Gideon by the water brink, But search the benches of the Plough, The Tun, the Sun, the Spotted Cow, For jolly rascal lads who pray, Pewter in hand, at close of day, “Teach me to live that I may fear The grave as little as my beer.”
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8k
Strong Beer
Let my love bleed let me leave my lipstick on your neck Let me wrap my hands around your neck Now it’s your turn, boy Let my love die Pull my hair and bite my neck Hit me and whisper you love me Stay with me till the morning And I will take my clothes off And my body is on fire And your neck kisses are so earthly Yet so heavenly Because it’s irespressible passion Let my love burn Let me hit your head with a gun Let me smack your neck Now it’s your turn, boy Let my love drown Swallow my howling tears And drown me in your sadness ocean Drown me Drown me And I will take my clothes off And my body is on fire And your neck kisses are so earthly Yet so heavenly Because it’s irespressible passion And I will take my clothes off And my body is on fire And your neck kisses are so earthly Yet so heavenly Because it’s irespressible passion
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Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
Neck Kisses
Value your worth with or without cloth how you dress or undress doesn't define who you are you are beautiful in both ways you deserve to be respected and treated like the golden rose fancy, rare, and desirable on display smack the ************ who ever tell you otherwise
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
(un)dress