"snogging" poems
Once I met a platypus;
I took her to my heart.
We held hands by the lake at night,
And flew kites in the park.
We drank red wine by moonlight,
And closer, by degrees,
Expressed our deepest feelings;
Explored our fantasies.
And then, as these things happen,
There came a happy day:
We took an ad out in The Times
Announcing progeny.
But outrage at the outcome -
Our beloved platy-pups -
Was front page in the tabloids!
What was the platy-fuss?
We gave the papers interviews,
We gave our truth and trust -
But still my Love was slandered
Just for being oviparous!
We formed an equal rights group.
We founded charities.
To educate, to celebrate
Our ovi-parity!
We swore a solemn, binding oath,
Between the two of us
The Wedding feast and party was
Quite monatrematous!
Uncle Mallangong was tearful;
Aunt Echidna was abeam:
The Boondaburra “Moonwalking”
Was something to be seen!
There were Joeys sloshed on cider,
Wombats smoking ****
Emus snogging at the bar -
Koalas wild on speed!
For sickness, health; for poorer,
Or for great prosperity;
I will love and hold and cherish,
Through all adversity,
My nondarwinian lover;
My mutant, duck-billed Queen!
My unconventional ******
My monotreme – my dream!
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Sing to me, O dark vault of night.
The divine muse is upon me;
Up on my shoulders.
She doesn’t appear to have
anything instructive to say
apart from “And how the ruddy,
blasted, Viking-snogging,
****** ****** mother-defecating
hell did I get up here!?”
Inspiring words indeed.
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 1:04 PM UTC
When I flare my nostrils
I sneeze cordite?
When I pout my big lips
Does hot magma erupt?
When my gored orbs roll
Behold liquid blitz come
to judgment?
Fingered nerves claw
At the fragile fabric of sanity
Kamikaze dreams make horrendous
Enterprise at vanishing sunbeam
Clamourous amorous wishes
Purr vapours of invisible kisses
With the gods of fantasy
Clawing up the dark wall of hope
Plastered with ancient ivy of determination
To live and kiss another day
And weave another gooey dream
Or to live another flirtation
With a phantom lover?
Stainless steel roses
For my garden (please!)
For roses are painted red
By blood from wounded dreams
And dust puffed from rusting trust
Because life has been unfaithful
Snogging and ******** with another
LOVER! In my bed.
I have nourished mine love tree
With tears from swollen eyes of hope
And ***** from fat bladder of determination
Red blood from amputated limbs
Of self-sacrifice and selflessness
I have tried.
Undress your mind and jump into bed
My mind often has balled fists against a woe
Than has it kissed many a *****
Blasted Judas! you are the foe
You took away her innocence
There is no red stain on the white linen
Only red lipstick on my pillow
And chewing gum in my hair...
My mind still swoons
To be deflowered
Undress my mind.
-dougwa-
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 11:10 AM UTC
Love isn't all about
sunshine, lollipops and rainbows
it's about hard work and mayhem
and psychological blows
It's about betrayal and jealousy
infidelity and boredom
it's about looking the wrong way
and getting slapped by the doorman
It's about leaving the seat up
and many sleepless nights
it's about slamming the doors and making up
after many countless fights
It's about verbally vomiting sweet nothings
with warm and fuzzy glee
it's about finding pairs of ***** socks
hiding behind the settee
It's about holding hands and snogging
while everybody stares
it's about embarrassing storytelling
and pretending not to care
It's about realising that you need someone
no matter if they cause you bedlam
you just know it's because you love them warts and all
and you just can't live without them.
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 7:13 AM UTC
In kisses showered,
through cupped hands,
you cross
from beryl eyes,
and rest in me!
Your tender face,
in mine
embodied!
An impression forms,
of no other,
none,
no boundary,
where neither I
begins,
nor ends!
I gasp,
as both the outer,
and the inner
a single eye
betwixt
engenders.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 5:00 AM UTC
On the first night of the Festivus All grievances were aired
But after a few cups of *** our feelings were repaired
The Festivus pole shone brightly, illumined by a single light.
The alcohol flowed freely, this would be no silent night.
Cousin Jerry in the corner was caught snogging with Elaine.
George’s girl was laughing as he struggled to explain
The cause of her disappointment (shrinkage was to blame).
Cosmo Kramer danced around the pole, making spirits bright.
Newman spilled the bowl of punch,( he never was too bright).
Frank and Estelle were doing well and feeling little pain.
She pinned him in the feat of strength, not that he complained.
When the meal was over and the holiday was done
They all made their donations to support the Human fund.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
for all of us, star-seekers, feeling now alive
for those with the ghastly skill of being alone
amid crowds of people
lost in thought but ok inside
for those who see streaks of madness
fly round, illume patterns/puzzles
grasping scales celestial to infinitesimal
for those playing games with reality
snogging smug wealthy boys in stairwells
oxygen bonds breaking the sublime
for those forgotten under dirt, asphalt & spot
buried dates and dashes no splashes of memory
just naked nihilistic Precambrian bones
for those nameless from identity crises
smiling glibly through missing teeth
embarrassed by circumstance and the folly of age
for those trapped in jaunty youthful frames
lacking mind's dessert: veneration (contradiction)--still
wisdom perilously choked plus feared
for those chanceless beings fate sweeps & sooner snips
chuckling at theodicies while they still can
some soothed by snake oil--I mean Purpose--
then just dying
and we're still uplifted? we are still star-seekers.
we, divorced from form and aching for the sky's response
hear nothing, but we know
eyes' lies are all around us and inside
they wear us out and keep us moving
they are ancient dull clichés, tarnished but
they have the audacity to make us shine, aspire
they are what your grandma says to get you to behave
eyes' lies are true:
we are still star-seekers
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
Sick today of twinging strings,
And watching the happiness that my magic brings.
Today is the peak of this ever lasting longing,
Far surpassing lustfull shortlived snogging.
I want a warm hand to clutch and hold,
And with me watch the beauty of this world unfold.
In perpetual youth his love will keep me.
instead of weary cold loveless and empty.
Immortality keeps me from this destiny,
for with it comes my lovers repeating finality.
Every death is always the same,
tormented in moments of heartaches pain.
I cannot love one or any at all,
for the climb gets higher from every fall.
ive lost the pleasure,
of these heavenly endeavours.
So in your hands i place the choice to love,
and set it on white wings of my most beautiful Dove,
and throw myself onto the tides of eternity,
never to feel the gifts of divine maternity.
or to waltz to a song.
that plays a single life span long.
Jan 4, 2011
Jan 4, 2011 at 5:27 PM UTC
I open my mouth to your tongue
and it forces its way in
slurping past my incisors
and licking the crevices between my molars
like a snake about to strike
at a mongoose's ********
oh my god but your halitosis
is enough to make me boke
copiously on my new hush puppies.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
!!¡¡!!¡¡!!¡¡!!¡¡!!
C'mon baby, don't be shy!
Oh, how fast the time goes by!
Don't come up for air to even sigh!
Don't argue it, don't question why
It feels good, and that's no lie!
We feel like our hearts can fly!
I'm your girl, and you're my guy
The passion's there, my oh MY!
We're so lit up we could cry!
Together we could touch the SKY!
Yeah, kissing is a contact high!
Watch those hands tho...
don't you TRY... O:-)
SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/5/2015
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
There is no worse torture
To the lonely
Than seeing
Public displays of affection.
What is the point?
Holding hands
Everywhere you go,
Hugging,
Kissing,
Snogging.
You're ******* on
Open wounds.
Many of us
Didn't ask to be left.
We didn't volunteer
To be dying inside
With no paddles,
No nurse,
To revive us.
We know what
Heartbreak is.
And soon,
So will you.
You're
Overcompensating.
It's obvious.
You kiss her head,
Caress her face,
She's not your queen.
You have an ace
Hidden in your deck.
You're just hoping
She doesn't draw
Enough to
Expose you.
I have nothing
To make up for.
No sins against
A woman,
No jealousy
Against a man.
I have only
The experience
To tell when
Someone's being had.
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
respectability argument: to be honest, being british, i think you're being asked to be required in kenya.... unless french, and much needed in the ivory coast; unless of course bound to south america and resurrecting aztecs; but that's you, snogging Pocahontas: and there's me still thinking about L'vov in Ukraine and Vilnius in Lithuania, like some Greek torching Athens in order to reclaim the stature of being enclosed by the Koranic identification of being once named Byzantine.
i make children in my sleep. parisian monkey dogue;
i'll sell my mother for a chance to salute!
seigel... heil! is that drowned
or drunk monkeys? is that the fluffy ********
or the furry moustache?
vexen ßeß -
i'm getting the itch....
the children rebel,
they read:
azure eyed
and the keeper: those americans
aren't selling the idea of democracy,
they're selling patriotism...
we can't find patriotism
after vietnam...
i told you i sold the children
the idea...
they're hanging with me in the night...
they're engaging everyone with
drunk's antics... and 9 depths of Dante...
when no-one aims to be
intelligent, rather drunk...
high-streets of Aleppo...
only when children take to invoking
a priestly Saturday...
caste-made worth's of a ********
i charge to culprit the salutation...
for whatever coaxing
i too mind the hoax -
veneered in vex -
broadly gathered with a klux.
x x x... x x x... wind-farms of Bavaria.
tragedy in Dortmund, and navigating
the E34... i think they call it the Bermuda
spaghetti tangle...
schloss... Mathias Pfred...
y'ah, dirt-ridden with the Rhine...
neun counter eins...
luft, feuer, wasser, erde;
zahnseide nach naiv chittern, denken bürste;
ich nehmen die kontinent für schweinkratzen:
kichernd beifall - cacao Brad Pitt... suede
in foxtrot a vexing the ***** of mustard with
merging ginger and brownshirt; skunk
marching the heb toward allegiance texan,
for that pretty period of living in the 1960s
and the early 21st century...
and god said: either a german or a pole
will be my puppet joker, or i'll have
a resurrection of israel! **** why not, i'll
have both.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
Inside a box of 78's I smell the dust of youth
listening to Elvis in the record booth
back-combing my beehive and spraying it with lacquer
stiletto heels and dirndl skirts and belted waists that flatter
The taste of coca-cola at the local diner
glamorous bright red lipstick, there was nothing finer
tuppence to play a disk on the old juke box
stockings and suspenders and pretty floral frocks
The 1950's rock 'n roll era rebelled
the first time the young were able to express themselves
there was no birth pill, and smoking was the norm
no career women then, just housewives on top form
No mobile phones or internet way back then
or laptops and tablets or electronic pen
life was about dancing until the midnight hour
snogging behind the bicycle shed as women had great power
A time when conversation was something people did
families interacted and we played outside as kids
listening to the wireless and dancing around the kitchen
Mom making pastry and darning socks with criss-cross stitching
Monroe and Mansfield inspired dynamic verve
even motor cars had romantic **** curves
but I am happy looking back with my happy stories
time stops for no man and I have the fondest memories
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
Lance comes over
in his fancy boots and pretty jacket
says, you should hang out with us
I hate to see him snogging her
but courtesy makes me say yes
I barely know him
except that he likes fancy boots and jackets
he seems a decent good lad
he likes her and she likes him back
what could possibly go wrong?
but break the news
good lad Lance is not good at all
he's a creep and he makes her cry
taking her as his own and making her dull
now his fancy boots and jacket make me sick
his oily face makes me puke
please burn in hell, good lad Lance
courtesy shall not deter me from yelling that
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
leapfrog, crawlfrog
sitting frogs, snogging frogs
frogs, frogs, frogs
making pollywogs
sudden downpour
rainfall and now we have been
stopped by froggy urban sprawl
all over the road, expanding
the tadpole nation
every frog hop jumping
to their station.
uncle toad needs you
all the little froglets
stand up and take your
place in the human
eradication
we are small, we are cute
and soon we will be many
and our conflagration will bear fruit
the ribbet will roar
the pobblebonk will rise
watch out humans, watch out flies
time you realise...the frogs are coming
looking out for more...it is written
in our sacred lore...we are the future
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
7 PM: Train station snacks. A giggle, a rhyme, and two soulmates.
7.10 PM: A bleeding old woman. Stop for a while.
8 PM: MRT to Esplanade. The MRT sound.
9 PM: A bench in the Gardens by the Bay.
Beer bottles in hand and the relentless snogging.
Her head on his shoulders. Both tipsies.
He is desperate for her body.
9.30 PM: Lying on each other’s back. Seeing the clouds move.
10 PM: MRT to Nicolle Highway. Stop at 7/11. He buys beer for the night.
10.30 PM: Hotel room. She opens the door and he drops the bottles down.
Drinking.
11 PM: He finishes the Chardonnay all by himself, and feels her body against his, a surge of passion moves between their bodies.
He wraps his hands around her drunken body.
They kiss.
His hands on her *******
11:30 PM: They make love like wild kittens, and she moans. He loves her with all the stiffness under his jeans.
12 AM: It is midnight and she is crying. He is trying to console her.
12:30 AM: They pull out each other’s pants and slide against their nakedness. He finishes the last open bottle and puts on the first ****** of his life.
1 AM: Sweating. She is drunk and happy.
He feels his ***** lying outside his ******
Conversation about love, life, home.
1:30 AM: She opens the last beer bottle. Too drunk to be able to walk.
They down it together and make love again.
He feels her teeth biting his manhood.
2 AM: They are sleeping. Side by side. Naked, tired and lost in love.
3 AM: Still sleeping.
4 AM: She wakes up. He is snoring.
5 AM: Both of them awake.
Conversation about love, life, home
6 AM: It’s morning. She picks up her pants and pulls up her top.
She is going back, her bra and belt lying on the floors of their room, just like her heart.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 5:10 AM UTC
so once the flirting duo moved along to
the electric ballroom
down the road for some jiggy-jiggy wiggles
i walked into the world's end
and headed straight for the toilet,
started talking to a mate
while taking a **** ended up buying
him a drink, with the offer he asked:
are you gay?
no... i just feel like talking...
he further inquired: why are these barmaids
looking at you as if they know you?
so i replied...
i just have one of these faces...
people remember me like they remember
birthdays and Christmases...
so i bought a round, he bought a round,
but.... hmm... the whole encounter
pinnacled on: nothing short of a nuance
of a brief encounter...
music producers...
he asked me who i thought was
the best producer...
so i said, rick rubin....
he countered with timbaland...
because whatever he did with
justin timberlake &
nelly furtado...
to which i countered...
come on...
what didn't rick rubin
do with johnny cash?!
and there was nothing original about
it for most of the time...
just the covers...
we parted in good spirits
and... oh **** yeah...
snogging that girl...
i still don't know how i'm somehow
appealing, when i have the chance
to... charm.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC