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Phillip ONeil Aug 2012
SPREADEAGLED

Bucharest,



Spread-eagled and naked

in her crop circle -

this one in a sunflower field:

she’s a wheel of limbs,

some sort of a *******

lusted after by the seed heavy

flowers bowing to her curves

like drooling surgeons.



She’s finished with running,

waiting for the fading light

to join the last of her loves,

faded with processed proclamations

of undying certainty

which were a little worse for wear

after courting

and checked into intensive care

soon after.



Love thought it had

ducked its obligations,

passed again

like a heavy goods train in the night,

shunted across the border

while guards waved it on;

interested only in sleep or beer.



But this time she’s making sure

love returns,

pays its duty and dues

and hits its target.



So, splayed

aryan and vigorous,

apeing a pagan

resurrection,

she waits

for the skydiver

who – with precision

confidence – happens

to be bearing down

on her charity target,

slowly filling her

with his ***** shadow.



She sunbathes under mirrors,

she’s a real

tough nut to crack.

I repeat myself into her.
Mike T Minehan Oct 2012
This is a poem to warn you of the licentiousness,
the lewdness, the lasciviousness and downright
wickedness of language, especially,
the evil consonants.

Consider, for example, the subtle sibilant 's', seemingly innocuous,
but the consonant first heard in ***.  
And take the letter 'l', standing up *****,
the stiff one in this lustful alphabet.
All boys know about the upright 'l',
as in blind, which they'll go if they play with it
too much, double 'l', well, they'll end up in hell.

The consonant 'b' stands for ***, of course,
everyone knows 'b' for ***,
the bold, barefaced, brazen one,
or, on all fours, raised up, the buttocks form an 'm',
with an inverted 'v' between the legs.
And 'c'!  'C' stands for - for,  no, no.  I can't.
Let's just say 'c' is curled up, crafty, by the coccyx, where it lurks,
cramped and damp, hopefully curtailed.

And 'p'.  Well, 'p' is 'p', just as bad as 's' 'h' with a 't'.
And what about  'f'? Don't worry, I'll give that one the flick, dead quick.
'f' starts a word that's totally perverted.
If you think I'll use the 'f' and add the 'c' 'k',
you'll have to wait another day.

Then contemplate spreadeagled 'x',
the final letter in the word of ***!
These consonants are wanton.
'W' has its legs up in the air. 'w' is wild and wet. Wicked, wicked.
'n' is bent over.  Naughty, naughty!

And 'y', why, 'y's the legs together and the ***** area.
Also, be wary of people who like the 'g' spot in there a lot,
also those who roll their 'r's too much
and others who lash out with s and m.
'r' and 'g' and 's' and 'm' end up in ******!

I believe the higher incidence of ****** offence is due to the influence
of consonants.  It's no coincidence. The evidence is that *******
is social as well as ******, of course,
and there's a preponderance of consonants in *******.
Such coitus should be interruptus
before these consonants totally corrupt us.

Now, the only course for moral rectitude
against such a sinful attitude with the grossest moral turpitude
is vigilance. With discipline and diligence,
we must become the moral militants
in the fight against the sibilants,
the awful incidence of decadence,
and the absence of innocence,
that's the evil consequence
of all the cunning consonants.
Otherwise incontinence with consonants
will be forever on our conscience!

Now. Think of every ***** word you can. This sin will be absolved in heaven!
Yes, ******* has five consonants, testicles has six and ******* seven!
Gynecological has eight, fresh spermatozoa ten and prosthetic devices eleven!
Repent! Repent! Redemption lies with you.  
It's true!  Think of it! If you eschew the consonants in all evil or ugly,
you'll be left with the purity of 'a', 'e', 'i' 'o' 'u'.

Mike T Minehan
Yeah, I know. This is a very silly poem, and I have no idea when it came from. But sometimes I like visualizing language, and here I've visualized some of the alphabet instead...
Alexander K  Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)


let me begin my salutation to you
by expressing my angst  about your ghastly night experience
that you go through when in the hands of the policemen
who often walk around in the name of security patrols
while in truth they bettle terror in the show of evil mighty
they swop you down and arrest you spreadeagled
asking for bribes substantially the money of your proceeds
from the ware of your trade your body the temple of christian God,
Wherever  your lack money
your beauty saves you as they go on to  **** you  in circles among themselves
as they glorify the power of your bossom in their policeman's slang,
where beauty , tyranny of bossom and your bribe is absent
you are forlornly arrested from the streets of Nairobi and Lagos or Johannesburg
then rounded down to a dingy police cell to be charged
with  heinous crimes of prostitution and vagrancy,
when the true origin of your fortune's tomfoolery
is powers that be as they glorify anti woman crude cultures
beseeching a girl child into despair and depravement,
they are these men who refused to  see you as a beacon of glory
they always link you to the filthy bedrooms from which you ennoble not.
kelvin mungai Sep 2015
[[ ****]]
blood pooling around her
there she lay sprawled
eyes glazed,motionless with no stir
she is another victim to succumb
to this heinous inhuman act
the mission is accomplished
the criminal thinks
freely he walks
head and shoulder held high
among mortals he laugh
life goes on ,another life gone
my sister,mum and aunt
the daughters of eve are endangered
my brother,dad and i
the all sons of adam
are the perpetrators
fear exists among our female species
they fear to be stripped off their
coverings
they live in a nightmare of being
stripped off their dignity
unwillingly be disrobed and be
robbed
they fear being deflowered and
defiled
out of her will she was forced
naked and spreadeagled
vitruvian man style she lay
her case was a repetition of a biblical
story
dinah and the sons of shechem
blood freely trickled between her
open pelvic
life seeped out of her misused shell
did she really deserve this???
who will end this atrocity?
who will fight for the girl child?
toddlers and grannies
shamelessly chauvinist male defiles
them
its against the word
its against the unwritten codes
it's unafrican
it's evil
my anger is frothing
like a volcano the lava is heating up
my pen is crying for the female child
i will shout this from rooftops
on the skyline i will write it
this battle is ours and we have to
fight
protection we've to offer
[[the chronicles of the dumb speaker]]
Edna Sweetlove Dec 2014
Night fell on Montmartre and, gazing into my love's eyes
Over a candelit chequered tablecloth,
Beneath my belt lurked rancid lust,
The seams of my ******* oozing desire,
My groin drenched in desire for his wanton ****-flesh.

Streetlight shone through threadbare curtains
Harnessing proudly over my twitching buttocks;
My screamed climaxes echoing
In deepest recesses of Parisian dawnings.
My clear goal: swallow his salty comings.

Morning exposes a sordid scene to chambermaid's gawp:
Spreadeagled cold-as-chilled-salami bozo,
Puny synapses crushed like mashed strawberries
Blasted smithereens of overpowering *******
Like chicken's entrails in an unwashed sink.
Edna Sweetlove Aug 2015
A "Memories" poem by the immortal Barry Hodges aka Edna*

Night fell on Montmartre and, gazing into my love's eyes
Over a candelit chequered tablecloth,
Beneath my belt lurked rancid lust,
The seams of my trousers oozing love's sweet song,
My groin lumped in desire for her wanton ****-flesh.

Streetlight shone through threadbare curtains
Harnessing proudly over my pounding buttocks;
Hermione's screamed climaxes echoing
In deepest recesses of her third-rate mind.
My clear goal: swallow my salty comings, cow.

Morning exposes a sordid scene to chambermaid's gawp:
Spreadeagled cold-as-chilled-salami ****,
Puny synapses crushed like mashed strawberries
Blasted smithereens of overpowering *******
Like chicken's entrails in an unwashed sink.
Steelyvibe Jun 2018
Like a ferris wheel of self doubt
On the dance floor she moves about
Controlling limbs is not that easy
Stumbling round and looking ******
The crowd stare on in wild amusement
Of spasmodic spins and erratic movement
A spectacle not seen before
She collapses spreadeagled on the floor
Unnoticed a stranger enters at the back
An aerial extends, the controller tracks
She jumps up straight just like a soldier
Eyes focused and calm composure
He moves her into graceful steps
More appropriate for the female ***
Now she is surrounded by romancers
Wanting to be with, this robot dancer
Steph's Corner Oct 2013
I always envision you
In the mountains
across the sea
In a silent retreat

You left a few years ago
Homeward bound
I am in a city
You are spreadeagled on the sand
Under the stars

You think about me
I think about you

One night the world was being ravaged by a storm
You were someplace else
Dark
Cold
"Do not ride the boat home", I said.
We were up all night
Thumbspeak
Black
Pitch-black
I could see you
In the flame of my matchstick
I could even hear your laughter
My heart was being ravaged by the storm
You were my anchor.

You swam the sparkling seas
Your iridescent skin
And I wish I was there
You said you wish I was there

"I am getting thin," you said.
Thumbspeak,
I could hear your labored breathing

I could see you climb the mountains
I could see you bathing in the sun
I could hear you preach
I could see you staring at the night sky
Could see your eyelashes across the universe

"Goodnight"
"Goodnight"

Then you cut off
Thinking I cut off

Summer
Rain
Summer
Time has passed

August. September. October. November. December. January. February. March. April.

We stare up at the clouds

"Isugba"
What?
"Inihaw"

"I missed you."

"I missed you."

"No, you did not"
"I did."
"Why?"
"You stopped speaking to me"
"No, you stopped speaking to me"
"I missed you."

I could clearly see you again
In the flame of my matchstick
Against the sun
In the rain
In the dark
In the wind

I was there with you again
Counting the stars
Swimming the seas
And climbing the mountains
And preaching
And soaring in the sky
And tasting the salt of the seawater
And plunging the depths of the sea
of your soul
of your heart


I am now anchored.
2008.
he fell as i walked by.



layed there recumbent.

legs spreadeagled

on the front spare bedroom

floor.



fell from the wardrobe.

or did he jump?



i will take a photograph.

sbm.
Camille lily May 2018
She has marked him..singled him out.
Like a wolf singles out her **** amongst the herd.
She licks her lips, soft pink pout alluring.
She is thirsty, driven in her need for pleasure.
Her breath quickens, eyes intense, inviting, challenging.
She is naked....Soft silhouette of hip and thigh in the half light.
******* small and firm, jutting proud with their rose tipped peaks.
Back arched, graceful curve meandering to buttocks rounded as fruits.
She raises an eyebrow ever so slightly.
An invitation to taste the sweet river of her core.
To dip his fingers in her salty cavern, velvet soft moist pinkness.
Hidden gem within parted white thighs.
He is transfixed in her cool blue gaze.
Drawn by her girlish innocence.
Seduced by her hedonistic desires.
The mix irresistible, drawing him in with her carefree abandon.
He plunges to her salty depths, she writhes and moans with pleasure.
Her cries primeval and unrestrained.
Seeking only the exquisite beauty of coupling that is as old as time.
Feeding the fire within until it burns red hot in its intensity.
Passion a madness that is all consuming.
She cleaves to him in the final thrusts,
Spreadeagled, his body finally overpowering hers.
She surrenders, eyes liquid now, soft and content.
Sated.. at least for now...

— The End —