"snarled" poems
As he snarled at my nakedness, I could only help but wonder if his intentions were of lust or love.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
The human soul was threshed out like maize
in the endless
granary of defeated actions,
of mean things that happened,
to the very edge of endurance, and beyond,
and not only death, but many deaths,
came to each one:
each day a tiny death, dust, worm, a light
flicked off in the mud at the city's edge,
a tiny death with coarse wings
pierced into each man like a short lance
and the man was besieged by the bread or by the knife,
the cattle-dealer: the child of sea-harbours,
or the dark captain of the plough,
or the rag-picker of snarled streets:
everybody lost heart, anxiously waiting for death,
the short death of every day:
and the grinding bad luck of every day was
like a black cup that they drank,
with their hands shaking.
10k
[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare]
Have pity ! show no pity !
Those eyes that send such shivers
Into my brain and spine : oh let them
Flame like the ancient city
Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers
When men let angels fret them !
Yea ! let the south wind blow,
And the Turkish banner advance,
And the word go out : No quarter !
But I shall hod thee -so !
While the boys and maidens dance
About the shambles of slaughter !
I know thee who thou art,
The inmost fiend that curlest
Thy vampire tounge about
Earth's corybantic heart,
Hell's warrior that whirlest
The darts of horror and doubt !
Thou knowest me who I am
The inmost soul and saviour
Of man ; what hieroglyph
Of the dragon and the lamb
Shall thou and I engrave here
On Time's inscandescable cliff ?
Look ! in the plished granite,
Black as thy cartouche is with sins,
I read the searing sentence
That blasts the eyes that scan it :
**** and SET be TWINS."
A fico for repentance !
Ay ! O Son of my mother
That snarled and clawed in her womb
As now we rave in our rapture,
I know thee, I love thee, brother !
Incestuous males that consumes
The light and the life that we capture.
Starve thou the soul of the world,
Brother, as I the body !
Shall we not glut our lust
On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled
To a hell of jesus and shoddy,
Dung and ethics and dust ?
Thou as I art Fate.
Coe then, conquer and kiss me !
Come ! what hinders? Believe me :
This is the thought we await.
The mark is fair ; can you miss me ?
See, how subtly I writhe !
Strange runes and unknown sigils
I trace in the trance that thrills us.
Death ! how lithe, how blithe
Are these male incestuous vigils !
Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us !
Wherefore I solemnly affirm
This twofold Oneness at the term.
Asar on Asi did beget
Horus twin brother unto Set.
Now Set and Horus kiss, to call
The Soul of the Unnatural
Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain
Lets the Beyond be born again.
This weird is of the tongue of Khem,
The Conjuration used of them.
Whoso shall speak it, let him die,
His bowels rotting inwardly,
Save he uncover and caress
The God that lighteth his liesse.
6k
Depression tends to have a manipulating and controlling manner that spits and hisses from behind her snarled teeth,
Depression swallows the light.
And in doing so, depression gulps down yellow, drowning the sun and all his mighty.
Depression chomps on green, bits off grass and shrubble stuck to the inner corner of her lip.
Depression chews pink, each candy floss cloud tickling her taste buds.
Depression chugs blue, the ferocious waves sloshing down her throat with ease.
Depression regurgitates darkness, there is no colour when depression grabs my hands, looming shadows engulf my vision,
Depression’s feet start to move and I realise we are dancing to the dull thud of my heartbeat,
I dance with depression all through the dark, but it isn’t just dark, it’s the kind of dark with no moon, no stars or streetlights, it’s the kind of dark that creeps up on you until you cannot even see your nose.
The darkness slithers under my fingernails and slices back my skin, slipping beneath my flesh, it wears my hand like a glove,
It wanders upwards and claims my face simply as a mask,
As it seeps down, down, down, my legs now become stilts.
I am no longer dancing with depression, depression is dancing me, I am her puppet.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
Someone said my monkey's dead,
But confusion hit their head,
Made them think that this is true,
I'm in a funk, what can I do?
Then they soon told my neighbors, yes,
Put my monkey to the test,
Called the papers just long enough to say,
Yes, my monkey ran away.
I searched high, and I searched low,
Dropped a rock upon my toe,
Hit my head on a doorway hard,
Couldn't find my monkey in the yard.
Traveled to the mountains nearby,
Looking for monkey made me cry,
Saw the clouds come floating by,
A speck of dirt flew in my eye.
Checked the traveling circus troup,
For details on missing monkey scoup,
Learned that he had traveled through,
What am I supposed to do?
Boarded a boat set for the Indian Ocean,
Got sea sick from the crazy motion,
Tried to eat, but it all came up,
Couldn't drink the swirl in my cup.
Once in Africa, deep in the jungle,
Searched for monkey and took a tumble,
Found a panther hiding in the bush,
Felt flat hard upon my ****
So, no monkey, not anywhere,
Does the world so truly care?
Waited patiently in a Star Bucks shop,
In came monkey and my coffee I dropped.
Called him by his first name, Charles,
Saw him stare and then he snarled,
Ran so fast for the door, he did,
What a silly and audacious kid.
Ran pursuit down a cobbled stone road,
Saw my monkey drop his precious load,
Screamed at him to stop and say,
Where he goes on this very day.
When my breath was heavily panting,
Stopped my call and my ranting,
Figured if he so desperately was going,
No more to care and no more knowing.
Monkey, monkey where are you?
Are you hiding in the zoo?
Will you ever be around?
You're a silly, slippery clown.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:33 AM UTC
I keep my head up,
lips snarled and puckered,
teeth show,
nose high,
squinted eyes,
you can see death in them.
I look to the left,
I look to the right,
now it's time to fight,
3-2-1 take flight,
we go all night,
keep my fist packed tight,
and if I lose I'll be back looking through my iron sight.
This is the law of the land,
dog eat dog,
tooth for tooth,
an eye for eye,
kill or be killed,
I'm a killer with a blood instinct.
Came up in the mafia vicinage,
we live life this ain't no scrimmage,
live by Omerta it ain't no image,
living life without problems is a privilege,
when you start talking to cops you finished,
that's how we get down in my evil village,
nothing changed we all living vintage,
I can see you coming in with your gimmick,
don't try to test my limit,
I'm Popeye on steroids and spinach.
Rimani persone reali.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
The clouds poured that day
When my mother took me in the church
I kneeled in front of a porcelain Mary
Who glared down in righteousness
So full of herself, i thought.
She should be a figure of strength
A warrior even, made by her virginal status
But you are still porcelain, I snarled
A slight push
And to pieces you go.
In the fear of the Divine
I confessed my sins
Her smile still cold and smirk like
Laughing ay my earthly worries
Dismissing my lonely sorrow.
I looked up again in pain and anger
Smothered by fear and angst
To be met with my mother’s face
Who stood in porcelain
Looking down in righteousness.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 8:45 PM UTC
The weathermen were not prepared,
the storm turned West towards the shore
For eighteen hours it came down
in blinding sheets three feet and more.
It buried cars, it covered streets
It weighted down branches
on the trees, it dusted roofs
It snarled the roads, The winter
storm did as it pleased
When it was done, the air was calm
a cold serene and peaceful scene.
The snow in drifts lay on the ground
as I looked upon what once was green.
Then, as whiteness overawed the earth
A single red snowdrop appeared.
It briefly touched the snow draped earth
then rose again towards heaven's sphere
then one by one, here and there
flakes disengaged and rose on high
until all the snow that was earthbound
in blinding flight had disappeared.
In a flash, the snow was gone
The fields of earth once more were green
No traces of the storm remained
like a half remembered dream.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 10:58 PM UTC
And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and behind me
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches!
Paint me a cavernous waste shore
Cast in the unstilled Cyclades,
Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks
Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.
Display me ****** above
Reviewing the insurgent gales
Which tangle Ariadne’s hair
And swell with haste the perjured sails.
Morning stirs the feet and hands
(Nausicaa and Polypheme).
Gesture of orang-outang
Rises from the sheets in steam.
This withered root of knots of hair
Slitted below and gashed with eyes,
This oval O cropped out with teeth:
The sickle motion from the thighs
Jackknifes upward at the knees
Then straightens out from heel to hip
Pushing the framework of the bed
And clawing at the pillow slip.
Sweeney addressed full length to shave
Broadbottomed, pink from nape to base,
Knows the female temperament
And wipes the suds around his face.
(The lengthened shadow of a man
Is history, said Emerson
Who had not seen the silhouette
Of Sweeney straddled in the sun.)
Tests the razor on his leg
Waiting until the shriek subsides.
The epileptic on the bed
Curves backward, clutching at her sides.
The ladies of the corridor
Find themselves involved, disgraced,
Call witness to their principles
And deprecate the lack of taste
Observing that hysteria
Might easily be misunderstood;
Mrs. Turner intimates
It does the house no sort of good.
But Doris, towelled from the bath,
Enters padding on broad feet,
Bringing sal volatile
And a glass of brandy neat.
3.3k
Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit.
RACINE
There is a panther stalks me down:
One day I'll have my death of him;
His greed has set the woods aflame,
He prowls more lordly than the sun.
Most soft, most suavely glides that step,
Advancing always at my back;
From gaunt hemlock, rooks croak havoc:
The hunt is on, and sprung the trap.
Flayed by thorns I trek the rocks,
Haggard through the hot white noon.
Along red network of his veins
What fires run, what craving wakes?
Insatiate, he ransacks the land
Condemned by our ancestral fault,
Crying: blood, let blood be spilt;
Meat must glut his mouth's raw wound.
Keen the rending teeth and sweet
The singeing fury of his fur;
His kisses parch, each paw's a briar,
Doom consummates that appetite.
In the wake of this fierce cat,
Kindled like torches for his joy,
Charred and ravened women lie,
Become his starving body's bait.
Now hills hatch menace, spawning shade;
Midnight cloaks the sultry grove;
The black marauder, hauled by love
On fluent haunches, keeps my speed.
Behind snarled thickets of my eyes
Lurks the lithe one; in dreams' ambush
Bright those claws that mar the flesh
And hungry, hungry, those taut thighs.
His ardor snares me, lights the trees,
And I run flaring in my skin;
What lull, what cool can lap me in
When burns and brands that yellow gaze?
I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst I squander blook;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
His voice waylays me, spells a trance,
The gutted forest falls to ash;
Appalled by secret want, I rush
From such assault of radiance.
Entering the tower of my fears,
I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:
The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs.
3k
Gluteus Maximus
That Gladiator of Rome
Got into such a rage
That his mouth did foam,
He cursed and snarled
And snarled and cursed,
Yet things didn’t improve
They got much worse;
His fists beat the ground
And he spat into the air,
No one dare come close
When his temper did flare.
Furiously struggling
To undo a knot so big
It wasn’t his strong point,
He couldn’t give a fig!
Unable to get to grips
With his **** leather laces
Those sandals caused such scowls
And grotesque grimaces...
So, aren’t you grateful
That he isn’t alive today?
That bad tempered warrior
Your life he would slay
Just with one of his black looks
Or a growl at your face,
You’d probably explode
With only a trace
Of smoke and shoes
Left where you did stand,
Nothing but grey ashes
On the Coliseum’s red sand!
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:42 AM UTC
We're watching you they all whisper.
The trees collapse laughing,
the moon shows it's golden crooked teeth,
and the wolvess raise their heads to the judgment filled sky in agreement.
You're alone surrounded by these things watching you.
Nearby a stream is skipping across the rocks it mockingly asks you,
"Little girl why are you crying? Inside of your cage of bones your weak little heart is dying.
Listen to the mean voices inside your head and maybe they'll set you free, smile for the stars so they can take your picture but smile big so they can't see your frown.
Always be perfect because someone is always watching."
My brain thought up a thought and I finally knew what the stream didn't mean to say.
I picked up my feet and began to run back to the place where I felt all alone.
I raised my head to the judgement filled sky just like the wolves and began to scream at the moon.
"Always be perfect because someone is always watching."
I snarled.
"I'm watching you and you're not perfect."
I howled to the moon.
"Your teeth are crooked and you're a sickly yellow not a gold."
I glare at the trees and laugh
"You are only broken."
I sang to the wolves
"This is your forest, be a king not a follower."
"I'm watching you"
I whisper.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
FISHTHOUGHTBLOOD JON BOLDUC
When I was a boy,
Father taught me to ice-fish.
Here’s a memory;
Father drills a hole,
the auger bounces, vibrates, roars,
shaving ice– soon
the blade connects with winter water,
–the engine fades off.
I fish floating ice chunks from the hole with a skimmer
while
Father sets the trap, ties the sinker, and hooks the minnow
thru its side.
He lowers the line
gently into the fishhole; the bait plunges to the lakebed.
Father reels up the slack, pitches the three legged trap
above the exposed black water
and we wait for a trout, or a snarled toothed pickerel.
Father,
I have learned
to fish for thoughts
with an ice–trap. When the flag
springs up, I reel
slippery ideas up from deep darkness.
As they flop, I pull the hook out from their lips,
knock them in the head,
throw them in a pail; gut them, I spill fishthoughtblood on the white snow.
After the low sun sets,
My friends and I fry caught fishthoughts
in my dim cabin.
Hughes, Plath, Ginsberg, and Eliot
talk around the fireplace
as the pan sizzles, as the oil jumps. Soon
we feast on flakey poemfillets;
we talk about the dark english rain,
the crowded zoos, electroshock therapy, bald mediocrity.
After we have eaten
and finished the wine,
and all my friends have gone home
I look down at empty plates
and somehow,
“the page is printed.”
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC
hold me closer and tighter
like i wouldn't know how to let go
wrap your arms and make me warmer
as the eyes of the night fade, he will let us glow
your fingers on my neck fire sparks against my skin
as our snarled hands dance with every stroke
you pierced at my cold heart, i bleed the light from within
your arms are my fireplace, i fret no more about the snow
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
Maggie threw a weak left jab at the upper torso of Jacob to throw him off balance and swung hard with her right arm towards his exposed left cheek, connecting her small fists on his flesh with such impact that it immediately began to swell up. He retaliated with a well placed right hook to the side of Maggie's arm that sent her moving sideways before she regained her footing and answered back with a succession of jabs to his midsection.
Sweat poured down both of their faces mixing with the blood from cuts and bruises that both had received in one of the earlier bouts. They were now in the sixth round and neither showed any determination in losing.
Jacob brought his right leg up for a straight kick towards Maggie's stomach but she caught his leg and rotated it clockwise knocking him off balance and falling chest first to the mat. Maggie attempted to a heel lock but could not gain enough leverage to lock it in and Jacob slipped out of her grip and got back to his feet and shook it off. Maggie snarled thru her mouth guard and spun around with a roundhouse, catching her foot just short of hard enough on his left calf, sending numbness up and down his leg. She went in for a double leg takedown but was caught off guard when Jacob raised his right knee and connected it with the left temple on her head. Her vision began to go hazy and she swung wildly with a left and then a right before she was able to shake the cobwebs clear and see him throwing a straight, hard, and fast right squarely at her face.
She ducked less than an inch before his fist would've met the bridge of her nose and she came up with her fists balled tightly in an uppercut and landed on the bottom of his jaw sending him reeling backwards and losing his balance he fell on the ground. Maggie rushed over and got on top of him in guard position and began raining down lefts and rights to his face which he was blocking. She threw a few shots at his side causing him to arch into a kidney shape and bring his arms away from his face. Maggie grabbed his left arm and went for a Fuji armbar and locked it in tightly, feeling the joint of his elbow bending sharply on her pelvic bone. She arched her back harder, tightened her thighs around his arm and twisted the upper portion of his wrist to the left until she felt the familiar feeling of a tap out on her legs. She released the grip and stood up, ****** bruised, sweaty, but not beaten.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
From my new book, Poems of Ancient Rome and Greece, available in paperback on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, as well as eBook on Kindle, Nook, and Apple Books: https://www.amazon.com/Poems-Ancient-Greece-Christopher-Saitta/dp/B0DS6933HB?ref_=ast_author_dp
My mother the sea,
She woke my sandy eyes,
Just to tell me she had to leave,
Draw past the markets where the fish are sun-dried,
Snarled by the coral-rough hands of divers deep.
My mother the sea,
She left her running tab
Of the grocer’s choicest greens,
Thumbed the velamentous rinds and spiny scarola,
Her xylem and phloem are the slow moving cruciferousness of a breeze.
My mother the sea,
Charwoman of tides,
Who dips and delves upon her knees,
Who scrubs her brothel-coves with chamber lye,
Cyprian mistress of the salt-stained sheets.
I have looked for you, mother,
A scugnizzo amid the striped awnings of the marketplace
~ like sails to the sky ~
Where the fishmongers hawk their pride
Of conch, cavallo, and black sea bream.
I have looked for you, mother,
Walked sun-forged along the boardwalk,
Amid the neon-mascara of signs,
Hand-in-hand with only the ladyfingers of salt and vinegar fries,
Toward the crisp syllabub of pebbles and sand.
A beach is window-warmth spread free, cosmopolitan,
The longeur of eyes crushed in the glass-dust of cities.
And in the sputtering of the frosted spume of tides,
Held broken seashells in my hands like broken needles,
Heard the pump-click of the ventilator through your mask of sand.
My mother the sea,
A naked convalescent,
Whose ever-turnings have taken
A turn for the worse.
Who will know her by her death, who but me?
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 8:29 AM UTC
Knotted Cord
Rebekah- Hebrew, meaning - Captivating; knotted cord. Wife of Isaac in the Old Testament.
I am a knotted cord,
Of chattering reactions,
and alphabetical perceptions
straining to elude me.
A tangle of cerebrum crammed to my cranium
snarled loops that hear light in code,
or see voices through pulsating synapses.
I am a knotted cord,
A grey rope of countless nucleotides;
fashioning my own skintight survival manual
from my own regenerating song.
Rough edged coils of yesses and noes,
Spiraling into collected silence.
I am a knotted cord,
A scrambled array of ambition,
Stitched with the lethargy
of an unraveled thread.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
Fallen words roll steadily of his tongue,
as he sings and swings upon the strings
of a love song that is about to be sung.
But before this song begins, let me remained you,
it is foiled by the sins of useless hearts,
breaking the strings of the violins
that once seemed so pure and clear.
When will you realise, that love like politics
is nothing but a front.
So forget the conspiracies, tear up the theories
of sonnets, both old and young,
and ones that are yet to be sung.
Because that smile, that you think emulates the sun
and creates emotions of fun, right from day one.
Is a nonentity.
With a slightly snarled pursed lip
Pursuing sweet nothing, yet your heart stays eclipsed
and you lean in to kiss.
Then 10 months down the line, you here a chime
you open your eyes, she’s gone, you’re out of time,
and finally you realise,
Love is like politics, it’s nothing but a front.
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 5:57 AM UTC
Aphrodite - Queen *****
Slouching.
Elbows resting on glass countertop -
Go **** yourself.
All you are -
Is beautiful.
All you are -
Is perfection.
Can't touch you baby,
No, not again.
Smiled and cooed,
Then playing the role of dog in heat,
Snapped and snarled -
Like I was the crazy one.
You asked for it.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them “Supper.” At that word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. “Don’t let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!”
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
1.6k
insane, i boxed the snarling dragon's snout
and bruised its lips, bruised knuckles on its teeth
i struck its eyes above and chin beneath
it snarled and growled, i punched it all about
my desperation vanished quick all doubt
without a mighty sword, even a sheath--
to slice open that throat just underneath--
just ****** flurry storm with thunder shout
i pried open its mouth, my damsel there
much deeper in the throat this time around
i reached and pulled her out past snapping jaws
how often must i raid this dragon's lair
to save one who in dragon's mouth be found
so frequently delicious with her flaws?
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
Running running running running
Bury him in the dirt
Bury him in the flesh
Skateboard wheels run along the ground
Shhh shhh shhh
A digger splits the pavement
Water spills into a dead bird's beak
Ten pressed to the power line
A chaotic mesh wings snarled in the air
For a second an eye emerges
But reality shifts
A man fails committing suicide
They remove the tie from his throat and blood cells rush through his flesh
But his starved brain remains dead
And his daughter can't stand his stupid bloated face
Red leaves the color of blood
A dog breaks its leg crossing the road
Gutters overflow with spit
And fish swim until their ribs shrink
There's a heart in the centre of the earth
Oil spills into the gulf
Fire seals the exits
And twenty families drown
Sprinklers carry their bodies to the heavens
A newspaper kid sees them on his morning run and bikes around
Reality shifts
I'm caught in the whirl of my motions
Tumbling forward unable to grasp my presence
Reality shifts reality shifts reality shifts
But I'm not ready to shift with it
There's a dead bird in my pocket
I cross a road but the road is endless
I feel sick
Head on my knees
Awake in my bedroom
Construction workers lift the tarmac and reseal it
The old pieces pile where no one sees them
Decay codified in construction
Jesus, what am I saying?
Is any of this even real?
I've been gone a long time
Hands stuffed in pockets
Eyes set on dead grass, raindrops and McDonald's wrappers
People gather and break like tides
But I'm never one of them
I thought the mouth was for flesh
But it's for rot
It all makes sense now
Why Sunday mornings taste like glass
Because I can't stand myself
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
1)
my wife came out of the shower
last month
still unwashed and dry as a bone
You’ve forgotten, she snarled, *haven’t you,
to pay the water bill?*
Ooops! I’d done it again!
2)
last Monday
she came waving her hairdryer at me
and she screamed;
*You’ve forgotten, haven’t you -
to pay the power bill?*
Ooops! I’d done it again!
3)
last winter
she was trembling
and she said, shivering:
*You’ve forgotten
to pay the bill for the gas heating ,
haven’t you?*
Ooops! I’d done it again!
4)
and yesterday
when I returned home from work
I found everything in the house floating -
the chairs and the sofa
and the oven and the dog
and my wife too, upside down
up there in mid air
And she hollered:
*You’ve forgotten, haven’t you
to pay the gravity bill?*
And she reached out for my neck
as I levitated too
*Help! Somebody
Help! Anybody
Help us get back
down to earth!*
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 3:16 AM UTC
You use lingo that flows yes
But I protest
How is it that I KILLIN YOU?
What do you mean? Am I scaring you again?
laughs Do not worry
I am just going to drug you and pounce
oh look I have hands this time!!!
****
NAAA I am ******* wit you
Maybe I do not want to blow the fantasy
Can that be topped?
We can be great friends you and I
but then again
First waves come with little knowledge
Now your dangerous cause you know my verse
I should dress in layers and pretend
ain't nothing happening between friends
Kick it in your chair at the other end..
grab your **** and make it mine
Scared again> yet> waves might get you wet?
Come on I saw you surf
Your not afraid of getting snarled at or hearing GRRRS
wait wait..We can kick it as friends do not hurry
Hang ten in your chair with no worry
Wanna watch Rocky Horror with Tim Curry?
How am I killin you dude? ; ) You poor *******
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC