"squeezes" poems
My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.
"l love you, Mom!" He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.
"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly. (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)
"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.
"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.
"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.
He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.
"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.
I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.
His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.
At least for now.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Sitting here,
wishing she
were here,
In this chair-
on my lap,
straddling me.
Choker on,
wearing a skirt;
pink lace thong
Hair combed long
no shirt on
tats; jet black lace her back
Gently kissing her neck,
she slowly lick her lips,
But, the rest is
all mine...
Her soft skin
rubbing against mine
goosebumps run up her hand
then scatter through her spine
Thin *******
turning me on
intensely
I need her energy
immensely
Her senses
sense me
her scent
attracts me
The rough material of my jeans
Rubbing against her ****
Buckles your knees
I can feel it
The more I move
the tighter she squeezes it
the stare in her eyes
is her invitation
to my demise;
I have
arrived.
Moaning
as she grinds,
absorbing all her vibes
rubbing herself against my thighs-
Leaving her wetness as my prize
Apr 11, 2022
Apr 11, 2022 at 7:42 PM UTC
Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
It's been a year since that day
The day that you confessed
The day we started this lovely mess
but don't worry I didn't love you any less
The way we talk to each other til 2 in the morning
The way we squeezes each other's hand every time we're both freezing
The way we let our guard and pride down every time we're fighting
are some of the things that I will never get tired of doing
You do what floats your boat
Someone who thinks twice before doing what he's told
You're like a difficult puzzle to solve
but despite all that, I'll still love you til the day we're both old.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
To the thunderstorm I used to love,
you pounded me, beat the windows with your fists,
brought the rain down with your thunderous roar.
rarely, it would hail, and the melting ice would
gleam down the streets, still soiled from the
summer day before you came and took over all daylight.
A severe thunderstorm warning went into effect around
2 a.m. - estimating to begin at 4 and
end at 9.
You came at 5, and it never ended.
While the rain once glistened, it now stings my skin,
crushes my thighs, squeezes my hip, compressing
pressing presser tightening twisting the calf, stabbing
the spine.
I am not in control.
The purple crush of your swirling eyes is
a rush of wind - a cold front in the summer
mist - the shattering of a two-hundred-year-old tree.
I saved butterflies from you only for them to suffocate in their cages. The rags indoors, the frames, they never stopped you - only the rain
prevented your fire.
You are right when you are gone.
The road is a blurry mirror, aging eyesight in the wet darkness.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Every year we sit around the table filled with tasty traditions
Every year we ask the same question
"What are you thankful for?"
I'm thankful for the searing pain that has coursed through my veins
like a fire that couldn't be stopped
because I'd never be this strong without it
I'm thankful for the hot tears that have run down my cheeks
like the warm spring streams running through parks
because I wouldn't know what grief was like with out it
I'm thankful for the people who caught me when I was falling so fast that I couldn't cry out for help
For the people who held me up when I couldn't stand on my own two feet for more than a mere few seconds
because without them I wouldn't know what true friendship was
I'm thankful for the people who made me laugh
Who made me forget there was ever pain
because without them I would have never seen the light in life
I'm thankful for the people who cared for me when I couldn't care for myself
Who through the years have held my hand when times were scary
Who wiped tears away when life hurt
And helped me through the growing pains of life
Because with out them I wouldn't know who I am today
I'm thankful for the opportunities
The opportunity to explore the world
The opportunity to find the most knowledge I can fit into my head
Without these I wouldn't know how blessed I truly am.
I am thankful for the happiness that I have in my life
the smiles and the sunshine that is found in everyday
without these I wouldn't know what was joy
I am thankful for the scars that are invisible and visible
the visible ones hold stories and power and remind me that I can conquer anything
the invisible ones hold logic yet understanding reminding me to proceed with caution
With out these I would not understand healing
I am thankful for the human kindness I have received
The hugs of healing
The words of encouragement and wisdom
The shoulder squeezes of reassurance
The shared strength and perseverance
Without these I would not know hope
I am thankful for the patience of others
The times others held me close when nothing was outwardly wrong
The times when I didn't live up to my word yet they still trusted me
With out this I wouldn't have faith in myself
So as you sit around your thanksgiving feast
And you ask each one what they are thankful for
remember it's not about the food
It's not about the pilgrims and the Native Americans
It's remembering to say thank you to all the people in your life that matter.
So Thank you for being there
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
HE GIVES THE BEST HUGS
"you like long hugs don't you"
he knows i do
so he envelopes me in his warmth
and squeezes me till i feel giddy like a little girl
and sometimes
he even rests his chin on my head
and i wonder if he is memorizing what my shampoo smells like
and it's for this exact moment that i push through my workload each day and
it's for this exact moment that i walk through the rain each night
his evening smile is tattoed in my mind so i can dream peacefully
and he never fails to follow up with a simple love you snap
HE GIVES THE BEST GOODNIGHTS
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
Creep in the night
Resists as they might
to their bodies invites
to reap what they like
Prisoners of flesh
until their souls delight
His big black **** between her thighs
Her tight white ***** squeezes and he sighs
He wants to turn her out without a doubt
Teach her what real loving is all about
She screams out loud
he covers her mouth
The climb max raises
as the pressure amounts
Daddy doing it right
laying the pipe so deep
It may never come out
The pleasures out of sight
She’s so wet from being tight
He’s hitting her spots like a spot light
From the look on her face the pleasure is out of sight
He uncovers her mouth and she screams for her life...
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
*a child is born free of mind
but is hardened into thought
and by the time one dies
most are fixed and ******* into
worlds of their making,
heavens of their fantasies*
so one thinks one's an Indian, one a Chinese
or an American or British or Swedish
or French or Russian or German;
or one thinks one is a Christian or Muslim
or Jew or Hindu or Sikh or Catholic
or Doaist or Buddhist or Marxist or Communist
or even for that matter, an atheist
- or whatever you will...
one finds a badge to pin proudly to one's chest
and each identity becomes so strong
it becomes so real
it all comes into the question of right and wrong
of evil and good
and it falls into loud declamations
and my tribe is good, your tribe is evil
my brand is holy, your brand unholy...
and so it goes,
with all sorts of justifications
that beat sense out of all loyal adherents
and it squeezes humanity out of the human
as paste out of a tube...
ah, and yes,
the energy goes on into the afterlife
as Christians go into a Christian Heaven
and Hindus and Buddhists into various Lokas
and Muslims in their own Paradise
and so it goes on,
this Human Tragi-Comedy,
yes, yes, certainly all created by the Almighty
who was created by your mind's poverty
so that
a child is born free of mind
but is hardened into thought
and by the time one dies
most are fixed and ******* into
worlds of their making,
heavens of their fantasies
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 7:34 PM UTC
To Sing a Song
Of Love, full of Life
Consumes your Inner Carefree
And Compassion.
A Distinct Act of Tones
Bond into One
Notes which blend those Tunes
And squeezes Music-Juice.
A Happy Sound for All
To which when Played,
And Played,
And Played again
It is Finished. But not all.
It stands Forever; Lurking always
In your Memory
A Dainty Feeling to One's Heart
From the very Start
Till the End of your Time.
A Magical Compensation
To Children, Men
Or even to Animals
And Plants who could Hear,
And Feel,
The Warmth of a Song.
The Feelings it Brings,
Is Now and Forever,
Joy and Happiness to All
To Summer, to Fall,
To Winter, to Spring,
And to Everyone's Ears can hear,
And wear,
Like a Ring.
A Gem from your Mouth,
Eaten in Past Times
As One Grows and Improves
The Stamina
It becomes a Jewel
Which can sparkle when opens,
And closes,
And opens again.
It's Fun to know
Why many People would Show,
And Portray,
A Song,
A Grace,
A Feeling,
A Wonder,
A Mystery,
A Medicine for Sadness to All.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
Dear Trusting Nurse-Maid, must we Speculate
The Favours your Leader asked has mulled
Far healing cry a tearful Reprobate
And supposed Cheerful Innocence has dulled
As soon as the Red Tabloid goes to Sin
And whips the Pink Horse we all fantasy
Your Prince suddenly squeezes on a Whim
Which the Next Frustration will testify
I envy you all. Despite Fashion's Change
Like Solemn Dakinis prayed for Support
Cry the Call for War; And within a Range
Mark him a Target then file my Report.
I have lost that War. And the Battle as well
Yours straight to Heaven; Mine a Journey's Hell.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
Only death was left.
Death of creatures.
Death of bushes and flowers and trees.
Death coated the landscape like a blizzard.
Layer upon layer it continued to pile high.
They all tried to dig themselves out.
But soon it became so overwhelming
that the very people who were digging,
were enveloped in its icy grip.
But even as death squeezes the land dry
there will come a day
when even death must die.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
She’s underhand throwing words with her mouth
The boy leans in past natural borders, to study the agenda in her eyes
He is built like a bent paperclip,
with bottlebrush forelocks, a barracuda jaw.
Between her bare legs, she gently squeezes
a cup of iced hibiscus tea.
She reaches down and lifting it to her lips,
I feel mine part, in thirsting sympathy…
Her upper thighs blush wet with condensation as
The boys eager fingers click on her knee,
like ice cubes in her sweating berry hibiscus,
floral melt cascades down her throat.
Fairy breath lands on my shoulders - my silk overcoat
It makes me dissolve with memory
of my beloved tea picker,
a cocoa skinned Sudanese girl
traveling the road to market in Al-Junaynah,
swaying in the truck bed under a warm sun,
dreaming of red karkadeh flowers
and a paper clip boy.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
There's a black cat
walking flat,
his back feet
dipped in
marshmallow droppings.
His tail flicks
like a reed in the swamp,
and he can't
help but run through legs
swiftly
hopping on furniture
daintily
belly all soft and white.
Silent is he,
catching the almost-full moon
in his bright whiskers.
Padded paws,
a black tail snaking
twitching as he
squeezes to rest
in tight spaces
wide eyes as green as
a kiwi fruit
with the seeds cut out.
He bats his toy freely,
ears up then
hears a rustle
at the screen door
and sits
transfixed
but only
for a moment.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
Swoosh.Cling.
“One more try, little girl.
I know you will get it this time.”
He says with a crooked smile.
He doesn’t really think so.
He wants her to fail so she will try again.
He wants her money.
She takes a deep breath.
Looks at the man grinning at her.
Stares at that one bottle that she has to get.
The one thing standing between her and her precious prize.
She squeezes her eyes closed.
Throw.
Swoosh.
Cling.
Goal.
“Mommy! Look I got a goldfish!!”
She screams with a huge grin plastered to her face.
She holds up her prize triumphantly for all to see.
I smile.
If only it were that easy.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 1:44 PM UTC
The Serpent squeezes the mundane egg, for a moment in time,
…to begin the ages, turn the wheel, and so begin the rhyme,
The circus has commenced, a dancing, swirling motion,
…a pit of ghastly horrors, seen as a vast deep ocean,
…or celestial or cosmic, as some would have the notion.
Some of them were large, although some were also small,
…and grotesquely figured or disfigured, a scary monster’s ball,
…and trudging, stampeding, stomping or slithering down the hall.
There they danced, sang or prattled, where giants fought and where they battled, …thunder unto heroes rattled, with awful screams so frightening, and terrifying lightning!
Scaly, hairy or feathered, wet and fiery or weathered,
…conjoined, twisted or tethered, slithery writhing together,
Kingu and his wife, some say it was t’was his mother,
…his plan was war and strife, pitting brother against brother,
A ******* existence and so morally depraved,
…a state of sickly persistence, they found themselves enslaved.
Then abounding voice of heaven, that divided night by day,
…brought forth a princely king of Luke; the warrior Marduk.
Fourteen engaged in combat, the one against thirteen,
…and thus aligned with the ecliptic, at night they can be seen,
Sloshing in the Apsu, beaten with the club,
…slain and torn to pieces, cutting channels of their blood,
A north wind sent them to their places, fixed on Tiamat’s wheel,
…and the starry constellations, did Marduk bring to heel.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
Sherbet morning sky
orange juice sun glare
squeezes out
a flavour spectrum
of gelato delight
a sky to slowly **** upon.
© M.L.Emmett
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
unsuccessful potatoes & you found a tree in the ocean
i spent the afternoon digging, digging
my fingernails into my own fear of commitment
the fear of my own reputation
now the cat's in heat & richard nixon (the dog)
is teasing her with his trump card
she takes it
& squeezes it
very gently
then rips it open madly & snarls
& it oozes and drips out of her mouth
we all pick up a thousand pieces of a minute
i cremated my sister this morning & new spirits
arrived at my doorstep before noon
they sang to me of instinct,
whinnying about the antique zenith
up in cheyenne
"gimmie some secrets" she said
so i carved them
into my arm
into a minotaur's chest
into a giant looking glass
into a wooden boat
& i set sail for the sundial,
"there is no truth"
my eyes are wax & the ocean
means nasty filth
but everything is useless now
frogs carry high powered harmonicas
& walk into the spells of Poe
& into the hexagrams of Hamlet
i do not want to carry a pitchfork across
some godforsaken desert
i do not want to feel my own evaporation
while the real artists brood in the meantime
i want to waste away on a slushy evening
i will live in my armpit
& hate you
& never wear deodorant
"your mind is small--it is limited--why must you understand?"
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
Temple bells ring.
An angel sings;
its voice fades into the gutter like screeching tires
of an oncoming vehicle,
a demented daemon that jumps the curb,
heading straight toward us.
The steam hisses;
under your feet where your cracked soles scrape over the frost,
you freeze hell over through the roots
of frozen kikuyu dimension-blades
that stand out like Satan’s daggers.
Your hands turn blue,
every joint a rusted copper-chain link that squeezes out
the smell of playground oil over your coconut skin,
which, in turn, turns to jasmine milk that flows
from the split-ends of your hair
into my temple.
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 10:13 PM UTC
I find myself at the laundromat
Working out my thighs and lats
I put 2 quarters in the slot
It makes a sound like a robot
I open the door and I am posed
With a question asking, where are my clothes?
I don't wanna look stupid so I improvise
So I start chatting it up with a couple of guys
I say
Laundry for hire, laundry for hire
I'm looking for just the right buyer
Come on in, into my dryer
Laundry for hire, laundry for hire
One fine chap quickly agrees
Though I see him shaking at the knees
I ask him kindly to take out his keys
Don't worry kiddo this will be easy
He squeezes in, packed so tightly
I close the door feeling high and mighty
The machine rolls round and round
The door opens, and he falls to the ground
I feast on his entrails, meaty and sweet
Taking in the smell of his feet
I end my meal and am satisfied
Though I do wish he was deep fried
I feel a hunger still raging on
I still wish for it to be gone
So I say,
Laundry for hire, Laundry for hire
I'm looking for just the right buyer
Come on in into my dryer
Laundry for hire laundry for hire
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
A hand on a throat, where if all fingers touch, the throat
turns to ash. The villain of an anime I now watch
clutches the hero with his middle-finger aired
before the vital moment. I jump
on holiday off a cliff
and my chest stumbles with simulations. My body angled
poorly as I could slap headfirst. I was warned that my feet
should sink first if I merely fall. If I dive, my fingers
should first touch the water. I am depressed
the months before. College student, America. So far off, so cold
from the landlock of my birth. And the summer
study-abroad, double-abroad. In Italy
I was watching the Creation show itself on old ceilings
in marble-rooms, looking for some culture
that might have been ours if not for the pillagings that brought
gold and bodies to shape that gold into buildings like this. So I jump
and fall. And shiver emptily. It is the same feeling as the nights
on the bed thinking of futures without this self. Thinking as if
I did not exist. Ignored emails from therapists. And here *this
feeling!*: it made me want to live. So I jump again
on the higher ledge. My friend afterwards asks if I'm okay.
I'm shaking slightly. I'm without words. I laugh
with the same absence as any birth. A baby's confused cry
without tears. A long way down. What blue-green water,
as if dug for in the earth and sold for courtyard dances.
It glimmers all over my body, frizzes
up my hair as my ****** curls soak it, squeezes it down my face,
down towards my neck like fingers.
The villain walks away. The next time the hero sees him
he should be careful. He will have decided to **** me by then.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
Because I know what you do
when the tide is yours to honor
and how my heart cries for that
which is not my own.
I breathe in your existence
while a noose squeezes harder
around all your touch has ever held
and gently known.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
.
There were certain tea--chers--
that came crashing through my mind
like a herd of Buffalo,
New Yorkers.
Peeling, pointing porkers.
Try--ing to remind me--
the atmospheric city,
is not the alphabet, Oh!
Should I move out of Ohi--o?
(Oh me, oh me. Oh, my--O!)
I --
was dissolving,
certain rainy days sort of
had that sad effect on me.
And-- I-- was suspended--
high above a swaying bridge,
holding back the water.
Like old comic books and thunderstorms
crashing down like gravity...
And--
I smelled the smell of moth *****
made me think of someones' grandma.
The empty corners of their closets.
The empty corners of their closets.
And still...
I dream of fly--ing--
high above the alligators
wrestling in an open pit.
While...
an anaconda
drops in uninvited and
squeezes both of them, Oh!
I am not complaining,
just because it's raining.
There were certain tea--chers--
that came crashing through my mind
like a herd of Buffalo,
New Yorkers.
Peeling, pointing porkers.
Try--ing to remind me--
the atmospheric city,
is not the alphabet, Oh!
Should I move out of Ohi--o?
(Oh me, oh me. Oh, my--O!)
I --
was dissolving,
certain rainy days sort of
had that sad effect on me.
And-- I-- was suspended--
high above a swaying bridge,
holding back the water.
And...
.
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 5:42 AM UTC
I'm not going to lie to you and tell you there aren't any monsters,
Nor am I going to sugarcoat the facts,
People are monsters, kid.
Humanity is imaginary.
Everybody chewing each other's ears with horrible remarks,
Making glass eyes fall out with every piercing stare.
Skin breaking with each hit.
So I don't understand why we check for monsters beneath the bed,
When they are obvious,
All around us.
Causing suicide and death.
Allowing people to fill our head,
Our heart.
That's when the real damage starts.
The monsters possessing us.
Their strong magic,
So called love.
Strong force,
Squeezes our hearts and makes it pulse.
Causing cracks,
Until it rips out of our chest,
And finds a new home in who made it that way.
So yes, monsters are real.
They are in your classes,
And in your home.
They are passing you in the store,
And they are lying to you.
But the realist part about this,
Is you're a monster.
As am I.
We are all born this way.
Humanity is imaginary.
We are all monsters.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC