Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Georgia Owen Aug 2014
"It's a beautiful thing, finding yourself through the touch of another."
Even if it's violent
And controlled
Hilarity at its most exhilarating

What is a total package?
"Try not to be so direct," offers my professor.
I'm pretty sure nothing is real anymore.
Only theoretical.

Make me hysterical.
Show me you're worth the inevitable suffering.
And yes, I do realize the suffering is inevitable either way.
Trade-ins. Better off?
Fake promises, Fake promise,
and your words so sweet.
I, the innocent girl becomes crazy

you tell me you love me,
But all you want is to satisfy your selfish desires.
You tell me I am the most beautiful girl in the world,
but all you want is to flatter me.

You tell me you will never leave me whatever happens
But all you want is to make me lose my guard,
Time comes when I am pregnant
You tell me you are not responsible, that you are too young
You tell me you cannot marry an ugly person like me.
That I am not your class, that I am it wasn’t you,
The most beautiful girl in the world I was, but now I am no more.
A fatherless child comes into the world
No one to call dad, No one to lift her when she falls down and hurts herself
No one to run to when mum spanks her
Your fake promises, your foolish promises
Oh selfish boy, master of lies
Who have brought all these misery on me and on your innocent child
whom you have rejected.

Will I believe you boy, Never never in my life
I will be master of myself, I will control my destiny  
I will educate myself  and Show you what I can do, foolish boy the master of lies.
Fake promises fake promises
Copyright ©2008 Miriam Musonda-salati
Matt Dec 2014
When oh when will I meet my mistress?
I hope she has a lovely apartment or small home
She will wear her lovely black boots and designer jeans
And perhaps a **** blouse too

In the winter evening
We will have a nice fire

I will lie across her lap in only my *******
It will be so comforting to receive a firm spanking from her
It will be a loving spanking
Just firm enough to show she is in charge
But not too firm to make me cry

She pulls down my pink satin *******
Whap! Whap!
First 10 spanks with her hand
And then the next 10 with her wooden hairbrush
She used the hairbrush because
She thought I could have done a better job
Cleaning our kitchen floor

I have never been so happy to serve my mistress
I have prepared a lovely dinner prepared for her
After we eat
I will give her oral pleasure for as long as she desires
What a beautiful evening indeed
Hands Nov 2012
He catches me in lovin--
liking
him

and it's always striking
how my body acts on whim.
He always looks the best
not wearing any clothes,
makes my ***** point west
with their ***** woes.
He makes me think in lovely
and dresses me in kisses:
purple,
black,
red and bruised up
kisses
(he never misses).
I have a necklace ringing
all around my skinny neck,
I wear his love
like a trophy,
do I look a-wreck?
I make him wreck my body
night after night after night
because I want his gaudy,
pale and beautiful might
to come down all at once
and bury me in flesh;
to fill my ears with grunts
and turn my soil threshed.
Thresh me, thresh me hard,
my beautiful man,
my body's prettier marred
with your harmattan
breezes blowing on my sands;
how I really,
really,
really
like
my
man
because he buries me in hugging
and hides me in his warmth;
he always has me shrugging
the yeses from up north
in the epicenter of all pleasure
rooted in my mind;
it's the greatest measure
of our loving time.
He spanks me 'til I moan,
I **** him 'til he's dry,
his touch turns me to stone and
his stroking makes me cry.
Though it may be sore
after a day or so
my heart is always hurting
from the constant flow
of his body's beautiful fluids,
white and clear and true;
who needs a beautiful blue
when I have my like,
my really,
really,
really
like;
it's better than number two.




(I really,
really,
really like you)
this shouldn't feel so long ago.
Joe Cottonwood Mar 2017
You, my old companion,
I’ve junked three trucks and still I keep you.
Buried five dogs. Raised three children
who are now raising children.
And still I wear you.

You jingle when I walk.
Nails clink in pouches.
The drill in its holster slaps my leg.
The hammer in its clip spanks my ****.
You bristle with screwdrivers, chisel,
big fat pencil, needlenose plier.
You call attention. Random kids
who have never seen a tool belt before
follow me around asking
“What are you doing?”
Then: “Can I help?”

You smell like me (and I, like you).
Leather, fourth decade.
I’ve washed your pouches with saddle soap,
sewn your seams with dental floss.
Now the web of your belt is fraying,
wrapped (silly, I know) with duct tape.

Your pockets fill over time.
Once in a while I remove every tool,
every last ***** and nail.
I hold you upside down and shake.
Sawdust, a dead spider, little strippings
of insulated wire will fall out.
And once, my missing wedding ring.
It had broken. I had taken it to a jeweler
for repair, but when I got there
I couldn’t find it. A year later,
you coughed it up.

When your webbing finally snaps,
when you drop from my waist,
maybe it’s you, old tool belt, I’ll take
to the jeweler for remounting,
for buff and polish. He’ll understand.
First published in *Workers Write!* April 2016
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
enter slav digressing with the celt... yeah, saxony, once known as the northern arm's length of parody shaking oiled up speaking saracen sign language: arabica wavy wavy bye bye. you concrete those words in i roof it over, then we can both admire the rich russian vixens dry up their wealth with the saudis - we need television after all - and it’s in 3-d! and it’s 1-d head-banging closure! :)... ;( :x, :s, \: (mouth’s missing but i have a mammoth in malibu -
and my love can’t aim to have the mortgage too - but hey, girl’s heading for the one coin-flip  dolphin clap; and i was a teenager once too... but played grand theft auto 2d throughout asking for a bottle of whiskey and a panda’s / koala’s bothersome diet to hunt sleep); is there some sign language translation of emoji? i just don't have the talents to enter the emoji language and become a *******! or make democracy justly an exclusion of cowards and ******? i can’t do that, let’s utilise charles the third! ‘too busy, too fuzzy,’ well hear and karma sutra the talk of the man, after all the coinage and respecting the hedgehog on his head.

i cleaned it into a hotel like i would into a brothel,
while the suffragettes
looked like the elephant man in niqāb,
and i was ready
with the fist; although i shook less
than i spoke to mouth it off into democracy
continuing the power struggle vetoed with bodies extracted
into the count warranting mourning.
what success is it if a white boy in a western society
can’t leave the nest and establish a taxable one to suit power?
where’s the power then, in the stateless individual?
where is your power to my ******* of being given wife and house
not given? where?!
if i can’t be the individuated pawn power broker you can’t be in power... idiots!
you have to give me the ******* i “desire” to be in power, if you can’t,
you’re not in power! ave augustus ave ego!
try contort the square into a triangle by contorting **** into f
ck.... ah ****...
you already did... where’s the spanks’ worth of bullseye?!
you germans have no decency in human affairs
than you have to inspect **** movies varied
by wildebeest stampedes
from guernsey into gibraltar in gifs, do you?
well i did **** off a palm tree and got a coconut for an oasis’ worth of thirst.
Cathy Devan Aug 2021
My mother dresses me in gowns,
stockings, fleece jackets,
She pulls my hair up into a ponytail,
sometimes braids it into conrows,
She spanks my *** when i mess it,
She scolds when my outfit is ***** or greasy,

My father lives in the South side,
He dresses me in a suit and tie,
He likes my hair in a bun,
On the weekends he likes me in sweatpants and a tee-shirt,
***** and greasy in his garage,

I like me having a choice,
I want me on overalls, shorts, jeans and african print on Sundays,
I like my hair messy and short,
I hate the society norms
Feels like the society at large has already made decisions on how to live
L Jul 2013
warm fingers,
cold cheeks.
cold room,
warm sheets.

quiet kisses,
loud strokes.
loud sighs,
quiet chokes.

quick movements,
slow tongues.
slow kisses,
quick lungs.

***** talk,
clean lips.
clean hands,
***** tips.

playful actions,
serious moans.
serious spanks,
in playful tones.
Pisceanesque Jan 2017
Her honey'd hole a wet, *******,
her liquid gold a silky stream where
sliding thrusts were mounted, hot,
and arching bodies dared not stop;
where moments flowed into the next
and both were drowned in comfort ***
and eyes were riding each one's soul:
his quest for freedom her only goal

And rather than come up for air
this fiery passion sank them there,
(as both an anchor, 'twined like rope,
and locked in pelvic gyroscope)
her swollen thighs around his waist,
her nails embedded, tongues embraced
and fishing for that final taste
with every touch, in every place

Fused as one with melting cores,
(her curling toes demanding more)
his urgent need to plunge her rightly
sealed them closed with hearts bound tight, and
all around them
walls of water washed their sins
in quickening waves that locked them in
with swats and spanks
and gentle yanks and saucy stares
while skin to skin and hand to soaking hair

Like rolling tide to rocky shore,
(her legs thrown wide, his pelvis sore)
the crash and grind of karmic ties
were deep explored and fast revived
- with whispered greed they came alive -
awash with ***** un-restraint and
thrived, un-reined, with fate to blame,
their pulsing needs through every vein,
infused as one and charged by same:
her wild release on which he came
an ocean, calling out her name
© Tamara Natividad
www.pisceanesque.com
Written 10 January, 2017
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
You said you couldn't make love
to me that day
Afternoon had slipped away

Did you ever?
make love
Had you raised an arm?
in bath water
an unattainable charm

Between thumps and pushes
growns and growls and snaps
leaves turn under bushes
Invoking ritual perhaps

No memory softer touch
No yearn for less your spanks
For all this blank intention
I still give you my thanks
Confusing, what is love and what is ***. Seems not so evident which, when and where. Maybe that doesn't matter.
Fritz O'Skennick Sep 2015
She said our *** life was mundane
and had become routine
so we should spice it up a bit
indulge in the obscene
So I figured what the Hell?
Lets give it a go,
it should be fun to mix it up,
rekindle passion's flow.

Monday we tried dressing up,
I donned a Batman suit
and she Catwoman to my Bat,
we'd thought we'd have a hoot.
I leapt from wardrobe to the light
and swung to hear the crack,
the ceiling caved around us both
and I threw out my back.

Tuesday we tried role-play,
I met her in a bar,
the gangster and the ******
we messed round in the car.
A tap upon the window's glass,
a frowning, outraged cop
who booked us for soliciting
because we wouldn't stop.

Wednesday I surprised her
by leaping in the room
naked as my ***** sprang
'She'll like this' I assume
'GERONIMO!!!' I called out loud
and then began to choke,
her mum and gran were sitting there,
her gran then had a stroke.

Thursday we got *****,
I chained her to the bed,
aroused to see her naked form
and naughty words she said.
a banging on the door revealed
her angry, ranting dad
who called to speak of yesterday
but saw her then went mad.

Friday, naked she sat on
my back atop a saddle
she spanked my **** coz in each hand,
she swung a ping-pong paddle
She rode me round til I was sore,
through all the rooms and halls,
til I collapsed when one mis-swing
had caught me in the *****.

Saturday we calmed it down,
massage with scented oils
to help relieve this week of hell
and all it's *** game toils,
til I felt something part my ****,
was not a nice surprise
"Vibrating ***** 5000"
brought tears to my eyes.
I bit down on the pillow hard,
not much that I could say,
I clawed the plaster from the walls,
a bid to get away.

By Sunday, I had had enough,
and told her 'Please, no more...
I miss mundane, I like routine,
just like it was before...
No more costumes, chains or spanks,
or objects in my ****,
no more surprises you have planned,
or schemes you must surpass.'
'Fine' she said 'I'll call my friend
and cancel our three-way'
I looked at her through narrowed eyes,
my jaw dropped in dismay.
'Don't be hasty by my words'
I grinned and calmly tried
'Good, coz Bernard's on his way'
she said and so I cried...

...And cried... And cried...
If you'd like to watch a live rendition of this, please head to http://youtu.be/HmS2-eE7SGc
The velvet is smooth but still adds to every sensation.  
Day full of pinches and pulls and flicks and spanks.  
A red hot *** sizzles as a reminder of  the days events.  
I shall not soon forget a single moment-as every movement brings a sting!~
Sam Knaus Dec 2015
he's 24 years old.
he's 24, he's 24, he's 24
and you were 27
and i'm 17
and what the **** is age anymore.
casual flirting and joking
back and forth
turned into his hand twisting in my hair
and him pinning my wrists above my head
and his breath in my ear
and suddenly I can't breathe
because he feels like you
he feels so **** much like you that I can't think
because I have a boyfriend who doesn't know
because he's 24
and his arm feels like yours as I grab at it
and I moan and I giggle
and I almost whisper your name
because he and i
never even kissed,
no clothes came off,
it's just his lips on my neck
and his hand in my hair,
he spanks me so hard i have dark bruises
but i consented-
teasing me, he calls it
but I still
can't
breathe
and i'm wishing that i'd gone out
with his fiance for the night
when she invited me.
when his roommate walks through the door
it takes everything not to heave out
a sigh of relief
and i never thought i could feel this way
but he's 24
and he almost reminds me of you
but he's not you and he's on top of me
and i'm moaning and giggling
but i still can't breathe
he's autistic, he doesn't pick up on cues
he doesn't get rules
he was involved with another 17 year old
a while back, he says
because he's different and that's what i liked about him
and then his lips are grazing my skin
and i giggle and i moan
but i still
can't
*******
breathe.
for magus- again.
OnwardFlame Apr 2015
Fruit stained fingertips
You got caught inside me
But with dainty hands, flesh in the mirror
Gotta release it.

A calico cat needs a home
As I pick up and lick every stone
A vampire lair we joke
Feeling tufts of hair, from the men before.

The sun opens its pores through my windows
Packing, organizing, barely affording to clean
I don't really wanna clean
Until I leave.

Asserting authority but with a ripe smile on my face
This boy wants to go to dinner
As 17 years and drops of innocence
Disappear from me
But I consume vats of hummus at 2am
Glad to be alone.

Everybody's got someone
That felt like an audition, I wonder if I booked it?
Mixing business with pleasure
Maybe it could feel better
Before I zoom away on a jet plane.

Greet the spring air
Containing ties and spanks
But I've got this romper and dress
I will wear
As I escape from Philly for the last time
Blue eyed lady, our eyes swell
With forbidden love
Playing pretend never felt so good.

Dance like no one is watching
Trusting love to come ask to cut in
But I pass my debit card to the nearest man
"Put that away"
He said, as my fingers furiously pour
Out--what is going on within me.

I tried to end things on a positive note
You wanna see and toss me
As I say "Its not like I'm sittin' over here doin' nothing"
Get out the door, go begin the day
As I pray, let me--let myself--be happy.
Arlo Disarray Nov 2015
The sun yells at me "Hey, you! Take out your brain!"
And to do any different would be just plain insane
So I slice my face open, peel off my skin
Crack my skull in two, and reach right on in

Then the moon shoots around, blocking out the red sun
Screams "Come on with me and we'll go have some fuuunnn!"
So I leave my brain there, and leave my skin hanging loose
Like a ripened banana who's been peeled up for use

And as Earth waves goodbye, and gets tears in its eyes
I get bounced through the stars and through millions of skies
Galaxies try their hardest to break me into bits
Knowing well that I've learned all their darkest secrets

But as I follow the moon and I'm lost on the way
I find a new world in which I'd like to stay
But when I show my skull with my loose, peeled skin
I'm rejected and tossed down to the earth again

Happy once more to see me, the earth handcuffs me
Spanks my *** and says "You have been oh so naughty"
Then I'm remained in prison, as this world's special slave
Smothered by the one I love, and put into my own grave
She sells herself to finance her suicide
Surrendering to the seductive siren sensation
One more hit of his pipe translates to
One more hit of her pipe
One more putrid ***** transforms to
One more skillful stick

She murders dignity to pursue decadence
Mumbling monotone mantras maniacally
One more trip around the block equates to
One more moral placed in hock
One more greasy smile amounts to
One more dance with denial

She absorbs abuse to save souls
Protecting proteges poised for perdition
One more lash of leather corresponds to
One more tickle of a feather
One more session of spanks brings
One more gesture of thanks

She stifles all semblance of normalcy
Wallowing wordlessly within her weathered world
One more pain converts to
One more gain commutes to
One more pain to one more pain
Today, however, i intend to conquer death. i intend to travel to another dimension being myself. this morning i was lost without his green look. finally the sun was seduced by the darkness, those harboring my soul, and against which fought against succumbing in my attempt to reconnect with her.

   They have been years of depression and grief. and to think that the separation between happiness and melancholy is the thickness of the blade of a knife. for many this has been a reality. for me, however, it was overcome temptation. at the time of his death, my mind could not stop thinking that every day of my life it would no longer be with me. when she died i almost could not find reason to say his name. each time i called in my nights of despair seemed to me that it met all the most beautiful sounds in a word ...

   ... But hey, i'm still here. i have faith, and i have come to think that faith is believing in something when common sense says otherwise. i miss her so much, but i am also grateful to him for all the time he gave me to share it with her. i cried while i had, and when i lost her, i cried ...
   ... my love! your memory has stolen as many nights sleep ... life is an interval between two indecipherable nothings, nothing before and nothing the next. and so i feel the anguish of being alone, that penetrates my conscience as a needle. mr.snifp   throwing your air soft tooted.

insert images 4
[age children - at home] after playing with their favorite toys, snipf go around all your room. see they were ordered, and each is already told not need it, because began his new stage of growth. meanwhile, his father invited sailing in a boat near your home. snifp fishing with your fixture canopy ran down his father, and his father said that if he continued with that, he would be the first fish to be caught. the jumps on his father quikly and hugs - poor snifp already tormenting fears and neglect !!, but his father holds tight and kisses him again and again. his father tells calming him. "a time i will your next entertainment".

   Thinking that perhaps love is an unstable feeling, whose unique nature is perpetual mutation. but there was the secret of our union. we were always the same, and we liked to be that way.'uff think i doing effect of medicine, creo mover tons trillion in my mouth ocean, looking north ocean salivate carrying bacteria armored mounted on bacteria gnawed themselves ... !!

and if i say i really know you, what could you say? if only you were here, here today. knowing you, perhaps you would laugh and say that my words are worthless. if you were here, here today. but i still remember like it was all before and i restrain myself, lest my eyes sprout tears ...

... What happened to the days when we laughed and we played? you never understand anything, but still were together. what happened to those nights when the moonlight coming through your window, bathing your face with your aura? never you understood my words, but you were always there with a smile.

[ellipsis - short - meeting of their souls - what would have happened if they had known within the facility]

In a day of solar eclipse, met her. she was the sun and shadow me. suddenly they met both, until joined us another suicide element; it was a golden key that came giant in a ball of light. be assumed would open our sky and bedroom. and at that moment ...: _ the director proposes recompose the scene _ then studio light dazzles that sub - light, clobbering our eyes. she and snipf face off against, and they both really like, now the shadow and sun was light as a halftones del carmine dazzled cleaned. orchestrating snipf skipping your heart, his face paled and after several reprimands director, and newly entered in si belatedly. she smiled and lowered his head and rie contentedly.

[end ellipsis].
  
Every moment is gone from my hands was covered by the sands of my regret, streaking the walls of your soul to put in you, in your memory, which clamored for goodness me.
   the nights i've dreamed of you like me you appear dressed in white, one dancing ghostly figure of rare beauty, while the wind blows and burning the hills, where the languages disappear and flowers hallow ... i try to keep a mental reincarnation hold of my sanity and make me leave my safe cloister, through which i survived ...
   ... i could not live thinking of another woman, even one day.
   walk down the path has been long, and no one will cry blood for me. mistify all piety practiced baptism without speaking ...

[in flash] - projection simulated -

Adulthood - graduates of the faculty - she sat in her legs. after several hours lounged of some dances  philippines dance, whose movements were causing discomfort their current desire to continue with party. asks the car keys to go to find that some cigarettes had been given, so she and exchanging keys snifp their cars. and before leaving, decide found near the sea. near the sea snipf feel your pet blew necklace snipf, roles as exchanging for that snipf run and drool by the sands and the sea your wicked game beside her. . it stops to think that, and she takes behind.

   ... how i would think that the female being, that ideal that god and man dreamed of since ancient times, and at the end of the life of a man becomes everything that has sought, never disappear.
   how i would like to believe that essence that pervades the living soul, is once transmutes every hundred years, to see the end, in the middle of a dream summer from heaven they have fallen into your hair those mysterious rays in that woman's face, bathed in raindrops hit the ground turned into tears.
   it is in the soul, dwells somewhere in this universe, and sometimes do not need me.

   The feminine being, what the world craves, and that is almost incomprehensible, can only be reached by a man in every century. my search began early. i lost, and i have not finished.maybe the eclipse of truth will come now.
   my mind dreams with open eyes, and i can see your silhouette floating in a vacuum, and i can not help but talk like a child and looking at you as a man, as the search engine of your being, because i have the heart in each place they trod ; if all my blood is like a swollen river of love.

   if you are away from your memory it is. when you were close was your presence. therefore there was always something in you that enveloped my soul with a haze, which i do not want to try out.
   woman! with a look of yours if you crossed me the soul, and the dreamy whisper of your voice was like ripples on a calm lake. would like to hear your silence again, see your sleepy eyes and count words maybe i'll never say.
   how i would think that every man will have his being. but that's idealism, so spare me. optimism hundred percent verges on stupidity.

I remember the last night we were together, before being separated by distance. he moved his family had to go south. and after a year of romance and dreams everything was going to lose. I remember coming home and seeing all the beloved objects in boxes. until then, never in my life had felt so sorry. it was christmas eve, and there would be nothing to celebrate on that occasion. moreover, since then i never celebrated these holidays.

Ellipsis - "the greatest happiness of snifp" - comes home an insurance salesman, the manager receives proposal. the let’s at her desk, as they fell ashes of his pipe on the envelope. snifp kept writing. standing and looking on opens. reading the content and smiling uproariously. va rises to bank takes all savings and invests in small and loose film archives disaggregated, which were owned by a collector. with the rest, bought a motor scooter, which was behind a small deposit to carry small loads. filling the pond, buy wine and cheese. after party without destination highways that if for long enters a southern city.

Enters  does a little tour. until it reaches a cathedral. there was a director, leading a small choir, back, semi musicians around the pool. curiously in between was a woman very close to it. snifp are about to vitral, and backlit start simulate in unison the sounds mouthfuls of wandering the sites involved. the leading mimicked, strong to your arms movements with same music interval it stops, leaning against a column, to convince if i were really she. slowly, slowly, snifp approaches her and sits beside her. says: i am snifp, she looks and strange, the rises, smiles and leaves. but its immense imagery, its immense emotion unified makes influence it. she immediately, ascribes a state of grace, it will comfort her and hugs. both they embrace. under no circumstances blaspheme his three blankets golden the reencounter spanks by them, but not forever. but his greatest happiness was annulling of trails candidly created by generated by their parents, rather, he became a believer and reordering of their abilities asleep. he knew the physical resources scuttled, but if there a new opportunity to live not miss it next to her, so not to lose or waste this time insurance beside her. he became a believer and reordering of their abilities asleep. he knew the physical resources scuttled, but if there a new opportunity to live not miss it next to her, so not to lose or waste this time insurance beside her. he became a believer and reordering of their abilities asleep. he knew the physical resources scuttled, but if there a new opportunity to live not miss it next to her, so not to lose or waste this time insurance beside her.

   They went at dawn, but still could hang out with her. we walked, we gave mutual encouragement, separation would not be so short, we were going to see soon. i would travel at the earliest, would call for christmas and would send my letters the day after his departure. we sat on a bench in the middle avenue. people circulating quickly with shopping bags. vehicles pass did not stop us. it was cold. i warm up your hands in mine and gave them my breath. when looking into your eyes saw what i hate most in this life, tears. we could not contain ourselves, and not ashamed, for the first time i cried in front of a woman.

   And i cried all those days.
time has calmed the faint wound, when the whisper of the world touched his premise. singular dream cloud passing through the western sky when it becomes dance all fears. green water are stretched his hands without mockery. friendly land, give me your singing .... i still dream, give me this life.
   how many times i screamed your name to the wind, breaking the silence misty harbor, calling no more voice than my memories, wanting to feel that you no longer die of pain that is enveloping me ?.

Insert 5 - snipf (degraded)
in and absolute soledad colder snipf was hovering around calderon, if you wanted to take it, would be like a shrew trying to claim your destination.
   how much i wanted to forget your hate and cry out to your mind just forgetfulness, not to wander more between your eyes and stop getting lost in your tears, silent martyrdom of my fingers.

this first letter never sent. i did not dare to be so bitter. i could not travel as fast as i would have liked. his eagerness to see me began to be an ordeal, and this would mark much of our journey together; the impossibility of being close and always face the fact and accept this situation.
    
Instead, i wrote other words, perhaps more sweetened, but less full of guilt: moon night waiting for the soul to pray and answer the call of dawn will i be able to expect your touch again?
   come quickly to the call. come to the dark cover of night, when they sleep forest and sun when the stars of heaven just look at you.
   night descends quickly and wrap your shadow; fog cover it, oh night with your night time already approaching.
   do not let her realize that without their long lineage no longer beautiful, and culminates before his eyes hidden mannerism of a star.
   oh night with your night time, deflowers your thoughts and pour into honey. remember this i dreamed since i saw her, from the moment i opened my eyes in the middle of your night time it was close.

I'm thirsty. death absorbed all the liquid from my body. a drop of life left in this frame. sometimes at night, i have visions when anguish seizes my reason. during sleep the overwhelming thirst makes me see myself flying flush with the ocean. it's me. it's my body, but when trying to drink the water my tongue becomes a stingray ... and their fins are formed other stingrays! my voracious tongue consumes a large wave the water needed to live. my tongue is a horizontal army that steals the sea.

" Dresses and throwing acids on one another, they were joined by corketear clavicles, pretending to be vomited chains forgotten by god a tyrant -
these not forgive the unforgivable your starperson
forgive the shadow of your arcaica esfingial figure, parent your food channel dilating essence of your fears and fearless ... "
TO BE CONTINUED...
bakedjones Jul 2014
i don't like bad things
but i will date the devil
if he spanks and growls
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
it’s weird, i’ve been writing in the box room for over a year, only seeing the apple mac displays and aesthetics... but now, to decrease noise pollution in the house in an attempt to not disturb the cats asking for treats... i took out a dusty laptop with a windows’ formatting... and already i feel like i’m re-writing dostoyevsky’s notes from the underground... the whole oddity of it is pedantically exhilarating: plus i saved wolfmother’s debut on this machine, and trentemøller’s into the great wide yonder.*

this is a typical biography of poets these days:
a. gained an b/a from michigan university in english /
    gained an m/a from stanford university (also in english)
b. teaches creative writing at night school
c. has some prize in literature reduced to trophy handling
    akin to sports' trophies, although
    got the prize without the "team talk"
    of motivationalist macho-ism and buttock spanks...
d. divides his / her time between paris chicago & london
     (rich parents i guess)
but there’s hardly a gritty biography so mundane it
would make people weep:
a. educated... yes
b. self-educated after crap education... yes
c. got a really cool triangular badge
    by being in the elite of those learning to cycle
    (when in primary school)... yes
d. divides his time between the box room, his bedroom
     and the living room, ****** in the garden
     too lazy to creep the stairs while the whiskey river flows
     through the oesophagus valley.
kelvin mungai Jun 2016
Let cheat the night
And Strip under the moonlight
Make the glowing stars jealous
As my palm spanks your ***
Plant your luscious lips upon mine
And taste the product of my gold mine
Let the universe sing at our awe
While you ****** my breath away
Let me labor as i beg for more
As your sensation takes me to ecstasy  door
Trace my mophology
With concentration like you are studying biology
Read My contours,
As my hands take a tour on yours
Let lust burst our love glands
And Wait for momento to land

Lets cross the line
With our whines
As we spice up the night with moans
Gasps and frozen groans
Let our bodies mould
As my pecker roves in your mold
One we become
As the armosphere calm
Deeper let me explore
Motivate me let me not slow
With lust lets as glow
As the night bow
Iet us paint the midnight with slimes of sin
Before the sun rises and naked be seen
Let us sing
As our ****** start raining
Shelby W Feb 2014
To my younger, more innocent self:

Your childhood days will fly by, they'll slip through your fingers.
When you are older, you will look back and miss them more and more as your world grows colder with each passing day.
The people you have now will not remain your life, some will depart by choice, and some will die in shocking tragedies.  
Hug grandma every chance you get, help her garden and kiss her goodnight. When she’s gone, you’ll wish you had.
Don't cry when Andre spanks you, you deserve it every single time despite the fact that you think that you do not.
Recognize that his healthy days are extremely rare moments that you need to cherish every single second of.
Also, hug him more, because when he dies you will stay up for countless hours every night trying to remember how it felt to enfold your arms around him and squeeze.
Hold his hand while he lies dazed in the hospital bed; tell him that you love him every single day. Also, kiss his forehead even if he is unconscious
Never forget his laugh, you will spend hours a day wishing you still remembered it.
The sun you see now shines so bright and your smile is still so wide and genuine, remember how those two things feel.
You will grow to hate yourself; you will no longer love your smile or your frizzy curls, you will do everything to conceal both.
The picket fence painted on your bedroom walls will be painted over one day, the butterflies you painted will be as well.
Dakota will grow up, her puppy days far behind her. She won't cuddle with you anymore; she will push you away and hit you in the face with her tail as she walks away from you. Maybe you should train her..
When you get older, mommy won't let you sleep with her if you have a nightmare; she will tell you to drink some water and dismiss you to your room.
Play dolls with Olivia more; she will not want to play with them anymore when she reaches age 12.

Never forget the nights you spend running around wild in the back yard as the sun sets, those will be some of the best days of your life.
Stop wanting so desperately to grow up, I promise that it is not all you think it will be, it is actually the complete opposite.

This letter was not written to scare you, it was written to help you realize that childhood is something to cherish and enjoy, not to waste. I’ll see you in the mirror in a few years. Be good to yourself.
Andrew Rueter Jan 2019
I escape the prison of my mom’s womb
To enter the prison of a hospital room
Until I’m taken to my homestead
And my own bed
Where I’m grown fed
But I withdraw with dread
Into a prison in my head

This home is a prison
My parents don’t listen
My mistakes
Bring big spanks
Like prison shanks
Stabbing my flanks
So I go to the bank
And get my own account
So I can move out
Of their prison of doubt

I travel into the local town
It’s the closest prison around
Where much more is allowed
But I’m beholden to the crowd
Who are extraordinarily proud
Of who they knock down
Into lockdown
I wish I was braver
Than these slavers
But I’m no savior
I must hide my behavior
From the prison pavers

I gradually grow consigned
To the prison in my mind
I use to conquer the grind
But I become blind
Freedom I can’t find
In society’s bind
I must stay in line
All of the time

I become a prison guard
So I won’t be barred
By those that act hard
I play the authority card
And ignore the scarred
For diamond shards
Eventually I become warden
And order my foreman
To go to a *****’s den
And find sore men
For imprisonment

In a prison of my excess
The only way to keep success
Is to never confess
And claim I’m blessed
Everyone else is a mess
In need of my fascist flex
So I create laws based on my own personal morality
Confirming I’m right
Pushing out of sight
My personal blights
While I gladly smite
Those I don’t like

This country is a jail
Based around sales
Sold with tall tales
Written by the prison industrial complex
That gives my success its ***** context
And if anyone objects
I’ll arrest them too
Until I’ve built a zoo
Of animals turning blue
Tasting my prison food

In a prison of decisions
That need revision
I continue my mission
Creating nuclear fission
And causing wars
So I may have more
To support my store
Selling blood and gore

Our planet is a cell
I’ve turned into hell
With an oily smell
Satan would recoil himself
But I point to my money
To prove that I’m smart
Can you believe those dummies
Think I have heart?
My heart exists in a cage
Imprisoned through age
And a capitalist rage
To win the war I wage

The prison I build for myself
Are prisons I build for others
When I can only count wealth
I lose love for my brothers
As they run for cover
From a lifelong slumber
Assigned prisoner numbers
One quiet moment free
Of shipwrecked rusted iron duty
To sit and write some kind of poem
And yet my centered self’s not home

I stew and simmer in my ***
For manacled is my sad lot
Preoccupied with what comes next
“The dog needs food”, “Come rub my neck”

And never one kind word of thanks
Just steely eyes and verbal spanks
And selfishness that’s gotten old
Wasted on me like a meal gone cold

Continuous complaints I can’t repair
As if I could fix what your neighbor wears?
Petty hollering before it hurts
Sinister dreams, unhappiness dirt

That fills your empty bucket holes
Not knowing the patch is a charitable soul
Unconditional love you weren’t born with
You eat the peach,  throw me the pit

It will never change that much is clear
I’ve finally had it up to here
Lord have mercy on she and me
I need a hot cup of Lipton tea

Written by Sara Fielder © Nov 2012
Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                             A Busy Dachshund Puppy

She leaves you a gift on the kitchen floor
And another on the living-room rug
And barfs up half a frog just inside the door
And barfs again – a poorly-digested bug

She bites into cranky old Pepper-Cat’s tail
(Something so twitchy must surely taste good)
And Pepper-Cat spanks her; oh, what a wail!
(Dear pup, there’s a difference between could and should)

And in the evening, while you doze over a book
She rests upon your heart, and gives you that look
And her big eyes ask,
                                  Am I your very good dog?

Oh, yes
A poem is itself. So is a dachshund!
Andrew Rueter Jul 2020
Don’t mistake my kindness for strength
or my treaties for tanks
or my beatings for banks
I’ll bleed just from blanks
then I’ll flee to the flank
to get free from their spanks.

All the mistakes
my mind makes
are mind snakes
of blind faith
that finds fate
in grind grates.

You must be mistaken
when you say I’m misshapen
and there’s no way I’m this craven
I just look for a bliss haven
where I can kiss mavens.

You must have me mistaken for someone who cares
I’m someone who cares too much
I make too many mistakes to bear
and lose your touch.

You say you have no ***** to give
because it ***** to live
without bucks to bid
on the luck to win
so you shuffle spin
off my ruffled ridge
for muscled sin.

It was a mistake talking to you
mistaking the color red for blue
mistaking what you said as true
that you had a bed for two
until I read the news
you had the best to choose
so I bled and bruised
mistaking your clues.
sheila sharpe Nov 2020
shewereasnarrerasanarrer, but with cleavage to die fer
so she dressed in fancy spanks from Marks ‘n Sparks
‘cos she’d gorra job as earned hersen a bucketful of dosh
typing  jobsheets fer the Faktreh’s Senior Clerks
Now one parky Sat’dy neet,
our Peg the padgeowl chanced to meet
an Irish navvy wi a twinkle in ’is eyes
and ‘though Peg judged him as a Yokel
still she took ‘im dahn ‘er local
where they podged theysens
on stout and chips and pies
but Paddy got right larroped
‘as down the jit they galloped
and, chucklin’ sed  “now gisagleg
what’s behind them fancy skanks
did yer gerrem from them Yanks?”
but Peggy only showed a little bit o’ leg
but the navvy cut up ruff, and said “that’s nor ennuff!
I’ll ‘ave the rest – and I’ll ‘ave it right ere!”
but Paddy, tight jobber, never bought a dobber
and as weeks passed it soon became clear
to Paddy, the digger, that Peg’s waist  was gettin’ bigger
so, when Peg said, with a tear and a sigh
“There ain’t no bloomin’ daht
that you’ve got me up the spaht!”
Paddy skanked ‘er
- dahn the jitty - by and by!
A poem in Leicestershire dialect.  Read it out loud to get the effect please and let me know how you find it - oh, and have fun looking up all of the dialect words
sandra wyllie May 2019
what do I need
more grease
for the leverage
more nips
for the beverage
more tucks
for the tummy
more spanks
for the dummy
more somethin
for nothin
more excuses
than uses
confuses the hell
out of me
Dang This
world
Let me be!
Travis Green Oct 2023
Every moment with him is
An exciting adrenaline rush
That makes me lust
For his bang-up robust thugness
My clean-cut, coveted crush
My hunky lover stud

I hunger to drink him up
Like a ***** concotion
Love him hard like addictive drugs
Escape in the enchanting mantuary
Of his embraceable manliness

Hold on to him firmly
Feel his pleasant, seductive warmth
How he charms my heart
Consumes me with his ruling power
His lingeringly gentle touch

Feels so magical to my vibrantly velvet skin
I hanker to dive into the mesmerizing world
Of his phenomenally passionate dreams
Marvel at his brilliantly vivid
And fantastic masculineness
Like stellar cherry stars
Like the smooth, shining moon

I wanna ride the currents
Into his magically masculine world
Squeeze his athletic *** cheeks
Melt in his mesmeric presence
Ensnared by his treasured muscularity

Yearning to lick him all over
Stride on sunshine
While I taste his sweet, tantalizing existence
Feel his hands on my impressive hefties
Rub my ripe, walnut-brown crests

Hold me from behind
Blow my mind
Slide deep into my romance route
With his long, thick pipe
Excite my entireness

Make me breathe like crazy
Kiss me wildly
Choke my throat
Stroke my voluptuous frame
Engulf my senses

Indulge in his *****, sultry beauty
Pound me into another otherworldly realm
Pull me nearer to him
Blanket me in his blazing fervency
Smoke me like Locoweed

Make me reach marijuana nirvana
Where his top-notch rock-solid hotness
Makes me fall in line with him
Our bodies pressed together
Steamy sounds of high-energy
Homosexual *******

His arms confine me
I see my entire life in his inviting eyes
His manly sweat entices me
He brings me unexplainable delight
Spanks my eye-candy backside
Comes to an earth-shattering ******
Showers me with his creamy, savory man chowder

— The End —