"strippers" poems
Cremate me, please
and sprinkle my ashes,
pinch by pinch
. on strippers' eyelashes.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
*****
I like ***** I like ****
before you touch, you must get permits.
Nothing like a nice pair of assets,
oh how puppies make nice pets.
Bazongas are ***** that are large,
strippers and hookers, will always charge.
Nothing like the perfect *****
but only on the perfect woman.
******* are yummy dark or white,
but first you must wait for an invite.
Some girls even have a third ******
do not squeeze says Mr. Whipple.
I don't mind girls on the itty, bitty, ***** committee,
on a carpenters dream, I show no pity.
They could be called a bust, some call them cans,
a woman's squeeze box, all men are fans.
Chesticles is a term I have never heard,
but everyday, I learn a new word.
I like cones, I like jugs,
girls with big ones, I give hugs.
Al Bundy loved calling them *******
at the restaurant, I wish I was one of the recruiters.
A girl with a nice set of knockers,
might find herself with unwanted stalkers.
Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps,
a good set of melons, still give me goose bumps.
***** always come in a pair,
why do bra's, they have to wear.
Even men who smoke lots of crack,
still can appreciate a good sized rack.
I don't care if there fake or real.
in a crowded room, I always cop a feel.
Girls love showing off some cleavage,
I wish I lived in a ***** village.
Babies need breast milk to make them stronger,
if the mom is hot, they may do it longer.
In conclusion, I love *****
with whipped cream or melting ice cubes.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
i am art
You are art
It doesnt matter the way we living
We still art ,a art that was creating with sand,water
We are strippers with bruises
But we are art.
We are wallstreet liars
We are trashed and clean
But we also art
We are different colors but we was creating with art....
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
I can't seem to stop the rapeage... they love being forced into fucking...only average...beings...but i m a super-dude...with a super human john...need me a Mary Sue...a super average Don...Im sick of flying from town to town...trying to save the hoes...I wanna be a father...A super hero dad...fuck helping these strippers..cuz men only love dem strippers..and I see they all in love... ****** all the girl...stealing all their love... so Im just ******* all the girls tryin to make them see...That if a superman don't love them, then neither does he.....
-Diary of a PsychoSuperhero
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
It's the music, the alcohol
it's my situation won't improve
it's vices
it's smoking bidis
it's coughing from addiction
it's having talent but no outlet
emotion without expression
it's wondering if it's depression
it's insecurity
it's am I happy
it's advice when only I am me
it's drinkin brew
things I thought i knew
downing downers to cheer me up
it's a powdered nose
secrets no one knows
gambling with tomorrow
it's waiting tables
it's sore shoulders
it's scowling behind a smile
it's lifting weights
it's bad first dates
limp from drinking from the bottle
it's my ex lady
it's lusting
it's wanting what's in the past
it's a broken car
it's public transit
it's fearing that I am them
it's lovers cheat
talk is cheap
promises wash off my bed sheets
it's my breaking point
this broken joint
trying to calm my loathing
it's the ecstasy
that only fixes me
for one pill at a time
it's the president
pay the rent
work and school until I'm spent
never sleep
no cash to eat
feed my heart
with dreams I never see
holding on and letting go
walking fast and running slow
out of place
out of patience
job ******* placement
alcohol and strippers ****
dignity and throwing fits
trying not to slit my wrist
when everything comes down to this
moment
and I miss
it's insanity
everything all around me
it's me
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 3:20 PM UTC
invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed reading the news
& listening to Mary's magic ****** seems When Jesus
was asked about the standing recognition of the right
of her daughter's wall; simply talking ardently fell power
to meet **** & Satan forever on unknown ground
leaving it to a computer to maintain the angel prostitutes;
receive gifts, the smoke is full of alchemy, and the fat,
cut off in the field, it is not for the robot to understand
the point of madness; they turn their strippers into many
broken to pieces, rain all through the south & the lowlands,
& the wind guns, the sails & the rich man, on Bob into the ******
of the dog, who is not the kiss on the stripper's lips of a tree
to scratch the muses about the winds, he who is putting it up
at the last time the spirit of it was a monster, holding them
in a small amount of the size of the heart to change the mirror
of a gypsy; Mark & Bettie & the Chinese sense of how much
the light of the angle of the wall of the city, to think of the buried
sand & fled to lay down the knowledge, has set out how
the Christians of the world who are so, he loved the angels,
from its smell in front of the cleanliness of heart, producing
an end to gun fire, Einstein's bag, & the fire would have been
liberated from the dance movement in defiance of the State
for abductions; invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed,
reading the news and listening to Mary's magic posts,
was Jesus when he was asked about the standing enlarged
cheated death by a third just to the right of her daughter's wall;
Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet **** & Satan
forever unknown land is one of the PC of the angels to play
the harlot they are given and that the smoke of the alchemy,
the fat to cut off the fields did not produce the robot to
understand the point of madness they turn their stripper
in many broken to pieces, the rain & of the south,
the plains of the wind, the torments of the sails of
the rich man Bob in the sheath of a dog, who is not
the kiss of strippers is of a tree with the fingers of
the Muses of the winds, who laid down the wall of
the city to be; invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed,
reading the news and listening to Mary's magic posts
was Jesus when he was asked about the standing enlarged
by death through a third just to the right of her daughter
walls; Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet ****
& Satan for ever unknown to the soil from the PC
by the angels, there shall be no such fornication,
that these are from the smoke that is made in the alchemy
& the fat, that he may destroy out of the land of the fields
are not producing out of it the robot to understand the point
of madness they turn their stripper in many broken to pieces,
and storms of the south, the plains of the winds of the torments
of the sails of the rich man Bob into the sheath:
with the Muses, who has not denied the strippers is a tree
of a dog & put it on the wall of his fingers into his invisible
friends who are gods; Christ in bed, reading the news &
listening to Mary's magic posts of Jesus when he was asked
about the standing greatly enlarged, of a third just to the right
of her daughter's wall; Top simply talking ardent fell power
to meet Dick's century Satan and angels; Bob is rich
in its sails quickly with the Muses & denied the tree
strippers from the dog, put it on the wall with his fingers
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
Please excuse me,
as I take a chance
to try and con the ones who have conecended us.
As I slide down
my verbal pole of innocence.
Slithering, crawling, hungry and horney.
Strutting around the club,
looking for fame,
so I can give him a lap dance
and go down on HIStory.
You told me to pick a card
& I chose the Star.
One day, Some day,
I will outshine all of your darkness.
I met fate at a strip club.
We're all diamonds, just some of us are in the rough.
IT GET'S BETTER.
Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 4:07 PM UTC
Don't trust Tinder, Never found a winner
She's a Only Fans beginner
But us men have compliments but we're a Thirsty sinner
Just false hope and a haunted app full of ghost
Thirsty Only Fans and stupid ********
Tinder never felt right so I left
Super liked my own business
What's a commitment?
Tinder has always been a joke
Caused me to be broke
I've so paid for the gold and found some Diggers
Full of preps and Only Fan strippers
You swiped right and then left
Account deleted for the 30th time
My dumb *** pays every dime
Tinder gold, one real joke, I'm hopping off Tinder boat, I've got my life jacket and off to land
Tinder so fake like you don't understand
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 5:19 AM UTC
To soak up the dirt is to soak up the stories.
My story is grime pushed into the cracks in the concrete
From all the crusty hobos and sweat-sheened showgirls.
My story is glitter from all the strippers and their grinning patrons, and
***** spilled liquor, and ***** from those who have sought a cure.
I am nourished by pain, and also rubber from the wheels of souped-up sports cars
Driven by men with chasmic souls. The oil from a billion french fries
Palliates the sting of alcohol upon my fractured, ***** skin.
The filth of the cigarettes and of the **** smoke,
Dank in the air, and heavy, slathers on another coat.
I see all things and I hear all things and I know all things.
I can see up your skirt right now, you precious little object,
As you flee the casino like a gull from a shark’s open jaws.
Your nightmare is right behind you, and he’s starving.
His humanity has been chewed up by the worms of his rancor,
And all that remains is an animal with hot blood on his brain.
In the alleyway I hear the pop and crack as stiletto gives way to concrete
And bone gives way to undue stress. His smile is unhinged as
Stifled screams and muffled gunshot atomize in the black air.
A decade later, the mops of sad janitors cut through like razors,
Making clean spots more unsightly than the ocean of grunge.
Surreptitious blood spatters, long since scrubbed
Still glint under blacklight. The chalk outlines have absorbed
Into my unholy black skin, and though I was drunk on your blood,
I still remember cradling you as you died.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
Always saying I love you, baby.
But they’ve only been together a day.
Captivated by the way the
Darkness of each other’s pupils grow
Every time they touch.
Forcing the kind of relationships, but more of the
Groping, that they saw in the movies.
Heated make out sessions in the church youth room, with
Intensity that could make strippers blush.
Juxtaposing every inch of their bodies.
Knowing what to do only because of what they
Learned in health class. Trying to
Master the art of *** and what they call love,
Not caring who knows. Living off each
Other’s breaths. Fabricating
Plans and stories for their parents when they’re caught
Quietly sneaking back into their
Rooms at four in the morning,
Shutting their doors and their eyelids,
Tracing remnant goose bumps.
Until the sun shines into their windows,
Violating their dreams of Cinderella and Prince Charming,
Washing the night from their skin, and shoving their
****** memories to the back and hiding them in a drawer.
Yearning to be touched again, by whom ever the next
Zephyr can blow into their neighborhood.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
"Turn back the pages of history,
and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs,
but they lived rather than existed,"
said Hunter S. Thompson
at age 17,
before he became The Duke,
and shaved off a leg in Doonsbury cartoons,
before he rapped the sharp corner of his shot glass,
so too many times,
on the inch thick enamel,
of the Woody Creek Tavern bar top,
and waited until closing time
to begin blowing lines,
out of the divets he'd made.
The people clapping,
the moon attacking,
the red bone blood of America pumping past his eyes.
After he died, everyone there had a Hunter story:
Hunter shot his hot girl assistant in the *** by mistake,
but he felt like **** about it.
Hunter had a dozen red cheeked lasses he skied with,
but he never messed with them.
Hunter showed up in a Cadillac convertible packed with
strippers dressed burlesque.
But it was hard to tell just exactly what he was up to with
the strippers, the peacocks,
or anything else.
Alot of the stories had ****** implications,
but what they mostly implied
was he was cool about it.
He didn't write any of those stories.
Despite all evidence to the contrary he liked his privacy,
and what peace he found in rare quiet.
And he made **** sure they'd shoot his ashes
out of a ******* canon when he died.
The canon is still there.
So are the peacocks.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
He is a wringer
snapper of neck, diseased infested bird.
Dancing ***** strippers
pieces of puked up poultry.
Laugh when the sun is up
during the night you are real
when the clowns come out to tease and ****
haunted by their giggles
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 10:19 PM UTC
Quicksand
and those sketchy
day dreams.
Are
dragging me
down river.
To Go.
Drunk dancing
at the
Devil's beat.
</3
As I lay,
here.
Drowning,
in all your liquid lies.
With my right hand
above water.
Of course.
Every fallen angel,
sides down the slippery
stripped-strip,
strippers pole.
Onto,
darker day dreams
of swimming,
singing
&
swing-dancing
with Lucy.
Tap-tap-tap
dancing
with the
Fairy Master
Lucipher,
himself.
Sometimes people are just misunderstood.
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
It's 10 pm and the heat just hit me
The AC is off but I couldn't be more happy
Touched my first palm tree and dipped my hand in the toilet
Grabbed a cab to the city, on the seat there was a death threat
For breakfast we had Bananas foster, po'boys and hash brown
When Amanda power walked I had to tell her to slow down
By the Mississipi river I drank a peach daquiri
The waitress wanted more tips and across the streets she chased me
Strippers gave me the finger, ****** begged for ******
We were stuck in traffic cause of the constant flash floods
In a Camaro and a Werewolf to creep with vampires and slaves
Talking about plantations by the old family graves
And you were so beautiful under that big oak tree
Even more in the rain outside that locked cemetery
On Bourbon street the homeboys were asking for hugs
And I gave away all my coins to some thugs
We ate jambalaya and fried green tomatoes
The ladies were halfnaked but no one called them hoes
In a blacksmith shop with no electricity
We drank Morgan and got wasted with some other swedes
Wherever we went we felt the smell of ****
From every balcony people were throwing beads
All the ***** sounds were drowned out by the air condition
On the floor Hoyt from True Blood was changing positions
Then Chris slept like a baby when the cockroach sang him lullabies
For some reason it made more sense than "bridge may ice"
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
It's 10 pm and the heat just hit me
The AC is off but I couldn't be more happy
Touched my first palm tree and dipped my hand in the toilet
Grabbed a cab to the city, on the seat there was a death threat
For breakfast we had Bananas foster, po'boys and hash brown
When Amanda power walked I had to tell her to slow down
By the Mississipi river I drank a peach daquiri
The waitress wanted more tips and across the streets she chased me
Strippers gave me the finger, ****** begged for ******
We were stuck in traffic cause of the constant flash floods
In a Camaro and a Werewolf to creep with vampires and slaves
Talking about plantations by the old family graves
And you were so beautiful under that big oak tree
Even more in the rain outside that locked cemetery
On Bourbon street the homeboys were asking for hugs
And I gave away all my coins to some thugs
We ate jambalaya and fried green tomatoes
The ladies were halfnaked but no one called them hoes
In a blacksmith shop with no electricity
We drank Morgan and got wasted with some other swedes
Wherever we went we felt the smell of ****
From every balcony people were throwing beads
All the ***** sounds were drowned out by the air condition
On the floor Hoyt from True Blood was changing positions
Then Chris slept like a baby when the cockroach sang him lullabies
For some reason it made more sense than "bridge may ice"
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
Do you remember me?
Do you remember the way you pulled at my hair
The way you bit on my shoulder
Legs
Thighs
Neck
The way you hit my cheek
And left marks of yourself all over me
The way you flung money on my face
The way you kept ******* me
Even though I was asking, begging
PLEADING
For you to stop
The way you screamed,
"Work harder you *****
I didn’t waste money for you to stop"
And the bruises you left
When I passed out?
I
Am the girl
From the Red Room of The ***** House.
I
Am the ****
Who is ***** everyday
But society says,
"NO. It's all for the easy money"
I
Am the gold-digger
Crying for people to stop.
I
Am the story
Of eighty million **** toys
Behind the Curtains less Doors of Pleasure for Men.
No.
We aren’t **** stars.
We don't become famous for filming obscene videos.
We are just some toys
That men borrow
Like a rental car.
We are the colors
The society talks about in hushed voices
In the corner of a deserted street.
We are the discarded clothes
You never wore
Because they weren’t good enough.
We are the succubuses
Of every man's dream.
We are Pleasure
And
Lust
And
Money
And
Sin.
But,
We die a bit everyday.
We have felt, seen and heard pain
MORE than any one of you here.
We are WOMEN.
But no one holds a candle lit march for us
When one of us is *****
Because
"It's all for the easy money"
Isn’t it?
We are the Strippers, the Prostitutes, the *****
We
Are the nightmares you never wish to have
We
ARE THE UNSHED TEARS OF A FORGOTTEN PAST.
do you remember me now?
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 11:22 AM UTC
between giggles, toys and text messages,
dolls emulate strippers and **** stars;
~ did you know...?
between lights-out and sunrise,
sleep-over tongues and pubescent fingers linger
down-low deep into the night;
~ did you know...?
between the final whistle
and the minvan-drive home,
men and boys mingle naked
in shower stalls
eye to eye-ball;
~ did you know...?
between study hall and midnight,
the temperature in boarding rooms
rises like butter beans and burritos
baking prurient pies to last
a lifetime
or 2;
~ did you know...?
between the clean wedding and nasty divorce,
covers are blown
like crack ho's
hustlin' for a hit,
exposing every vice
and the woeful frailty
of man
~ did you know...?
between birth, puberty and death,
humans emulate dogs,
weasels,
and fleas;
~ did you know...?
~ P (#Pablo#DYK)
(8/10/2013)
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
best days better left behind bereft of joy
fighting in vain for fleeting fulfillment
instead seeping bile from punctured
***** appendix found septic too late
even still now hungry for real life like
stomach tapeworm eating purpose
lost along the way now empty, grey
when did time get away from us all
leaving bitter little paisan us's
stripped bare of long dead dreams
like Christmas morning c-section strippers
five dollar bills stuffed in withered *****
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
pestilence and
rapture,
two key elements
of
western civilization.
what is the difference
between a moth
and a
butterfly?
coffee stained teeth
catch soft whispers in the dark.
as we sit, surrounded by people,
frankness and penitence,
the priests, cops, postmen,
stockholders, school teachers,
slaughterhouse workers,
dishwashers,
garbage truck drivers,
prostitutes, strippers,
and hobos,
all working towards
what they believe to be the common good.
while we sit
in our chairs, wearing nothing,
clipping our toenails
each fractured fragment a whole.
we aren't alone anymore.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 9:33 AM UTC
the morning after always hurts the worst
hazy brain
summersault stomach
and where in the hell is my car
i want a pizza
or two
it was nice to see you
i've missed your smile
and condensed stare
and the shape that your lips make while you confess your love to the beer bottle's neck
that explains the jameson
and all the beers at the bar
the beer bongs at the after party
and why i could stomach the strippers
it was all you
so nice to see you
why do i always feel guilty when the sun comes up
no one got a black eye
i didn't grab the mic
and my clothes stayed on until i was safely home
although
the cab driver may have caught a glance
to think
i'm "all grown up"
i'm not at all sorry
not for the whiskey gut
or the fire i'll throw up
or the kisses that i didn't plant along your collar
i'm still the same floral-print ship-wreck at the bottom of the bottle
my mother once said that the only people worth clinging to
are those who see all of your greatness outweighing your flaws
you still see the holes in my tights
and my falling hem line
not the honey sweet legs they shape
or the hips and thighs that the denim hides
i'll be just fine as the german genie in the bottle of irish whiskey
witty
and slack-jawed
and ready to kiss the lips off the face of the clock
and two shots away from dancing with the cops
i look great in hand-cuffs
i'll whistle the whole way to jail
small victories weigh the most
and right now
i feel like muhammed ali
thanks, babe
here's two asprin that glow better than your eyes
and they're mine
waiting to chase away the pain that came up with the sun
here's to endings that aren't a safe bet
here's to sleeping alone
here's to new mistakes
just waiting to happen
water never tasted so good to me
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
my roommates are plotting tonight.
"oil wrestling," says Tookah.
"mud fights," says Darby.
"let's be strippers!"
in unison this time.
they fake enthusiasm well enough. so well i'm not sure if they're kidding.
i put in my headphones and disengage.
it's electric, combined with some pseudo thinking.
but i have to admit, my hypochondria subsides
when i'm overtaken by their banter.
Broken Social Scene is in my head.
smoke between my lips. American Spirits.
coffee on my tongue. tea will come later.
Lauren will get off work soon and i'll feel
complete again.
but until then, i will sit here and record this ****
needlessly clean my vinyl,
maybe clean the apartment,
consider buying a new guitar,
immediately dismiss the idea,
fiddle around on the piano,
pick up the fourth and final roommate from work,
wait for my heart to stop beating in my head,
and for her to come home to me.
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 2:42 PM UTC
Dear Amber Rose,
El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten)
"Half naked and I'm still not asking for it" - some crazy chick
Poem begins:
You are preaching women empowerment.
Dress how you dress make your self feel ****
Even it means wear nothing while walking in the streets.
I get the motive of your movement **** Walk I guess that's what we should be teaching our daughters.
But if you're dancing on that ***** pole now that's a different story.
Tell us how many ***** you had to **** to make it to the glory.
Hard to preach to a generation that glorifies strippers and undermines knowledge.
I am so pro women but **** like **** Walk and so on are the reason we are separated
men and women segregated.
Your biggest concern is what next party you are hosting, while these young girls are all confused about their bodies getting liposuction.
Trying to be you
Trying to be you
But why? when even Wiz Kalifa depicted you as an object and didn't glorify.
***** is power between the right pair of legs.
Tell us how many motel sheets have you gotten wet.
Such a shame our ancestors probably turning in their graves. Lauryn Hill wasn't naked and sold more then Nicki, Iggy, and Kim combined.
The real definition of a role model
Guess that's why you differ
Since you're a *** model.
To ***** licious to be a runway model.
But perfect for the *** shot I want to spray up in your mouth model.
Then go kiss your son with the same lips you rocked the mic model.
Women rights is not about a dress code.
Is so much deeper but what can be expected from a stripper.
El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten).
El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten)
Sincerely,
A concerned father
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
Part 1:
Mami let me get with you, wanna share my bed with you,We can have *** in H.D. digital,
It ain't really difficult, let me see your ******* boo,
Dance for me baby, just move how the strippers do,
My private lil prom queen, doing all the wild things,
Never seen yourself giving head on the flat screen,
Instant celebrity, natural star to me,
Sit back and rewind the part when you was riding me,
Ran out of blank tapes, need another blank tape,
One more scene and we got ourselves a *** tape,
Your friends know I'm filming ya, they seen what I did to
ya, We can even use a camera phone like Vivaca...
Part 2: We can play like actors, know you not a amateur. You can have the lead role, and I'll be the director. Setting up the camera, get into your character. Come up out that little dress, and let me climb on top of ya. Now baby let's just get involved, with the camera on. You see that red light, that means I've pressed record. Now mami look it's easy, go ahead, come on please me. Now we can put on repeat, and play it back on t.v.Let's make a ****** *** tape, show the world your head great. Show the world you good with it, back shots, hair pulling. Time for some action, Kimmy Kardashian
Lil camcorder that's pointed at your *** again
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC