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"sweeties" poems
As I ponder, perplexed by the possibility Of a premature passing that may present itself to me I consider and calculate Though my conclusion may be crude That the finest fix for my fear is a feasting of food I munch on a morsel, my mouth making moisture Overwhelmingly open to offal and oysters I'd take them, temptation takes its toll Curiosity for calories that I can't control I'd have them, Hoover them, heck I'd hoard 'em But by now I believe it's basically boredom Not a necessity to nibble the nosh It's late I ate a plate at eight, I can wait my gosh No, I know there is no need To slurp on soup or scoff some seeds Only fatigue fuelling the feeling to feed Got to get to grips with this gross and grotesque greed Choking on choices, trembling in my chair Do I punt for the pudding, the peach or the pear? Selecting such seductive sweeties Or dealing with death, diets and diabetes? While I wonder and weep about what will win My insatiable starvation stumbles on a sin Not funny you'll find when you're finished and fat 'Cause in the kitchen on the counter there's a KitKat Four fiendish fingers fascinate the feeling So seductive, my senses soaring to the ceiling Try to meet it, cheat it, beat it, defeat it But what the hell, I don't care, I'll just ****** eat it.
0
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 5:08 AM UTC
Starvation Alliteration
My doctor as you Call me your sweeties I want your fleshy needle I want your love I want kisses I fantasize about holding ands with you While riding your fleshy needle Our eyes smiling at each other As I lean in to kiss you Doctor Examine me with your fleshy needle You tounge and your Hands Explore my body As I explore you sweetly
0
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 11:12 PM UTC
Sweeties
Created me Re-animate me and love me On the very slab you made me I want to spend my re-animated life with you So you smile at me as we make love on the slab You hold me hand And say you created me Out of love and desire You hold *** if not to let me go Sweeties I love you Make no mistake I am your bride
0
Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 5:30 AM UTC
Bride
The flowers fall like sweeties in the packet of my mind. The answer flows completely from the hand that stops the time. The questions that were seeking could potentially leave us blind to the poetry that's creeping to the rhythm of the times. The finders fees of finding gold are deeply grained in laws. The crawling finger grasping for the love of ***** ****** The sailor tongues are swaggering with anticipating throws, of innocent and eloquent shows of pretty hoes.
0
Jan 21, 2010
Jan 21, 2010 at 1:34 PM UTC
Treacle in Filter Coffee
Once I had a wee brown hen, it had a wee brown tail. I sent it for a penny of sweeties it never back again. Now it's dead and in it's grave, many a many a day. God bless my wee hen. It never came back again.
0
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
My Wee Hen
As I decide to make love To you My loving Herbert My beautiful MD I not only cross the line Between doctor and patient But I expose my vulnerability To you Am I too trusting Sweeties
0
Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 4:34 AM UTC
Trusting
We need to speak more in terms of endearment. More honeys, darlings sweeties and dears don't appear to be important but they are. Love can be so subtlely slipped into conversation by simply placing a term of endearment after the phrase you wish to say. I'm tired tonight, dear. versus I'm tired tonight. There is no comparison!
0
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Terms of Endearment
If I was a candy I'd be a sour warhead. Pink. The longer you let me sit, the sweeter I get and at the very center is a gooey bit that goes down easy. Everybody loves a peppermint, but I'm not that plain.
0
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
Sweeties
Certain, Fresh Lad, your Craft's Promise apply Matter subtract from the Plym's pheromones late Your own Best Soul; Youth enhance and reply The Tanned One's Lights; And Career concentrate One Message sent from your Parents abroad Which mentored by your Tweeting Aunt confirm Clip fast your Arms; And Feet embrace the Board Kick the Meerkat's fears and your Lion burn So when these Sweeties witness your Best Art, That same Pastel you carry everyday Is in you - not There - complete on your Part And may these Blessings always come your way. Being your own Boss, your Goal's smile conquer Burn those Judges; And douse them with Water.
0
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: ROSS HASLAM
drip fed, being fed on drips and dregs and how many campylobacter in six dairy fresh eggs? raw meat, diced, sliced or crushed and pushed through, acts by the government **** you, nothing's your own, go it alone but the eye in the sky, on the wall, up your **** always follows you, what's the world coming to and how many bacilli in the ideas that you see in your minds eye? fed up to the back teeth? rip them out with the pliers and you get no relief, not from the welfare and you share and share and only when no one is there do you get your sweeties and treats from the N.H.S. We live in the cesspit and they smell of roses which in turn look like dog **** and we're still being drip led by the rich and the well fed and it's doing my head in. Skeletal? I want to go back to pre-foetal before fertilization was an i or the dot on some distant horizon, untapped as potential and potentially dangerous.
0
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
Disintegrating slowly
It's dandy Finding randy girls As macho guys seem to I drool at scenes Like tight blue jeans When a wiggle warms the view I'm a gangster For ****** samplers And sweeties that crowd the beach I used to shop Till my eyes would lock Where my right and left eyes meet And when I gaze At perfect sways A tom-tom fills my chest And I still cheer For a lovely rear But I race back to the best For I love the one That shares our home She stirs me quite enough In her gown It flutters down When we peel down to the buff I can't afford The babes on Broad And cheating is too drastic But I've long chose My perfect rose And hmmmmm she's still fantastic
0
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC
A RED BLOODED MAN HAS LUSTED
Down the entry ..up we ran Fighting ,shouting, laughing cans Days of old where nothing mattered Play outside until ya shattered Knock on doors and make a scarper Light a banger .. could n be dafter Chase ya mates on bikes all rusty Pulling wheelies ...fetching plasters Build a den from scraps of wood Hide for ages till its grub Bottles sought to take to shop Swap for sweeties gobs that stop Not a phone nor worried sight When you turn up late at night Eat ya nosh see Kojak chase Fire lit ya in dads place Jimmy's on all snuggled in flick 3 channels theres nothing on Of to bed with ***** feet Only bath time once a week
0
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:10 AM UTC
Those were the days
i always aimed at returning Nietzsche's ping-pong serve of poet-philosopher, as philosopher-poet... well, you know, any vanity project will do these days, given our current celebrity culture... there's nothing celebratory about it, so my little festivity of hope in establishing a self-style vocabulary might be too much for Gucci... but you got to try and whiff up a tornado of absinthe sweeties in licorice black (lee ko reesh). there's only one argument i cling on to, it is theological, i'm biased toward the theological argument always, because i've seen the ontological argument become desecrated by oncology - every theologian argues the same: there's a god, because, to be frank, whatever ontology provides us, it leaves us more bewildered than anything: how we expressed our freedom will never be compensated in terms of how others expressed theirs... so even Kant said: my ontology is based on god... so his contemporaries said: my theology is based on no god...     which is why Kant professed a theology   without an ontology, and his contemporaries professed an ontology without a theology - or as the other, in existentialist terms might have suggested: timing - but no one desires a godly status, so even his promenade timing made affinities with serfs begging for a watch rather than watching their shadows dwarf at noon...                                             this is called translating rhyme into philosophy, or philosophical rhyming... words of close proximity are prime exponents, given the spelling, i.e. the suffix - but which are totally antonymous - they look so alike, but then thinking provides disparity of intention, not so lazily done with red                   and dead...                                               head        and Pb...                                      is it?
0
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
rhyming in philosopy
i always aimed at returning Nietzsche's ping-pong serve of poet-philosopher, as philosopher-poet... well, you know, any vanity project will do these days, given our current celebrity culture... there's nothing celebratory about it, so my little festivity of hope in establishing a self-style vocabulary might be too much for Gucci... but you got to try and whiff up a tornado of absinthe sweeties in licorice black (lee ko reesh). there's only one argument i cling on to, it is theological, i'm biased toward the theological argument always, because i've seen the ontological argument become desecrated by oncology - every theologian argues the same: there's a god, because, to be frank, whatever ontology provides us, it leaves us more bewildered than anything: how we expressed our freedom will never be compensated in terms of how others expressed theirs... so even Kant said: my ontology is based on god... so his contemporaries said: my theology is based on no god...     which is why Kant professed a theology   without an ontology, and his contemporaries professed an ontology without a theology - or as the other, in existentialist terms might have suggested: timing - but no one desires a godly status, so even his promenade timing made affinities with serfs begging for a watch rather than watching their shadows dwarf at noon...                                             this is called translating rhyme into philosophy, or philosophical rhyming... words of close proximity are prime exponents, given the spelling, i.e. the suffix - but which are totally antonymous - they look so alike, but then thinking provides disparity of intention, not so lazily done with red                   and dead...                                               head        and Pb...                                      is it?
Continue reading...
35
Off to the shop at the top of the road, to spend a lot of money, that I know I ain't got. Need to get myself some sweeties,  provide me with a toothless grin. Can't think what else I need to buy, maybe just,  maybe a little slice of humble pie.
0
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
A little mischief
you know to lofty heights they praise the spirit and the other cliche, the soul (something they can’t see) and they deride the body (something they can touch, but don’t) But O sweethearts you’ll never get into other dimensions if you don’t know your present so touch your bodies, sweeties... never fear, sweethearts of legit joining of body and body just enjoy the *** with no guilt it’s OK to exhaust yourselves to moan and sigh and lie tired loving body side by body and to whisper: Oh...that’s good, isn’t it? and to answer: Hmmm....We ought to do this again soon, baby...
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Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 3:17 AM UTC
The Body, Spirit, Lofty Heights And ***
I'll never render, only lie through teeth so cracked, so broken. By the fluid of desire that has tainted me. Forgive my splinters and excuse my scars which scream in your face and strangle you, Father. Idle consoles and dusty comics. They lie upstairs, with much more honesty than me. Your bearded child. It took short of ten years, to grow long, ***** and poor. I have been taken by the concrete of London. I have a new found love, a libido for burn and for a ***** ***** of the promise land. Intravenous fling. But I am back now, Father, with some chocolate, sweeties and smack. I am here. And I want all that you have.
0
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
What's My Excuse
Do you remember that day when I gave you a candy made of deep senses of mine? You were glad like a child and I also felt blessed. Then I came with sweeties with strong cognac inside, you felt dizzy for a while, then suddenly brushed aside. Thus, I was deeply distressed. You said - 'no more sweeties! I have no heart to digest. They are too bitter for me and are full of poisons so, my feelings they molest'. They were in fact medicines prepared from the pains. Needed to add them your love, but you gave them back to me just for their bitter taste.
0
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 1:28 AM UTC
Bitter sweets
Daisy you always loved me, As I loved you from the first We played together, talked Ate sweeties and cakes Watched television. To be with you each week With my bag of goodies They are special memories They are what is meant By a life. Love Mary x
0
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 5:40 AM UTC
Daisy May you always loved me
You said that you were abducted by aliens At age 13 Me to my love but I was autopsy by them It makes me giggle that your jealous of my encounters with the fifth kind But sweeties I have been severely bullied because it too I want to cuddle with you want tell My story to you While loving you Will you tell me yours Sweet West
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Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 5:24 AM UTC
Abducted by aliens
Half a pound of sweeties, all shades of your choice Drape a couple of teddy bears around for luck Light some fragrant candles and relax You will be surprised how little time it took. Pour hot melted smooth milk chocolate into little piles topped with fudge and toffee find the cream all whipped just waiting ready and sit right down with a cup of steaming coffee
0
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 5:19 AM UTC
Christmas
i love at the center bursting and melting like chocolate cordials with irish cream filling one bite bursting not out but in my mouth open and ready awaiting sweetness and cream sweeties surrounding lovers look on with warm honey eyes waiting and warm
0
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
palimpsest
Door opens. It’s a party.  Two girlfriends, dressed to the nines,  leave their partners and retreat to the powder room. You think my guy sees what I’m wearing? Think mine does? Let’s swap dresses and see what happens. In an urban minute they walk over to the bar. Male, good looking but going on sixty: Didn’t I see you two on some catwalk? What, the dress or me? Good question, not sure I would recognize you without. Girls walk on to the dance floor. Woman, tattoo-faced, XTC-eyed: Didn’t I see you two in the tattoo parlor? Sure, dress feels like it’s on us to stay. Don’t worry, my eyes are lasers. Go peel a banana. Girls find their boys. Boys: What you said is right, music’s too loud to say anything. Then don’t say it. Did I say something wrong? Girls decide to swap back. In an urban minute they’re back and bump into their boys. Sweeties, something the matter? What would that be? Looks like you went and changed.
0
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 8:06 AM UTC
Untitled
Leaves falling effortlessly, Elegantly grasping the ground, Trees holding tightly, To amber creations That have been worked on all year round. A gust of icey air, Foreshadowing future cold, Rain and hail battering down, All begging desperately, To have their story told. A colour faded hoodie, Swallowing in its size, A warming mug of cocoa, Comforting us through, These shadowed lies. The fire tinted season, Filled with sweeties and disguise, In it the roots are hidden, A dark and clever monster's, Slow but scary rise.
0
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
Autumn...
halloweens upon us get the sweeties in put them all in bags let halloween begin children at the door doing trick or treats you are at the ready with a bag of sweets. dressed up in there costumes witches vampires too looking very scary to try and frighten you carrying there pumpkins lighting up the night happy smiling faces a halloween delight. bringing lots of memories when were children too and all the trick or treating that we used to do.
0
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
halloweens upon us
Sixpence could buy you a lot A plastic doll from Woolworths Crayons and cut - out books A pair of socks Packet of curby grips Box of handkerchiefs Half a yard of lace Cheap lipstick Flannel for face Pears soap A remote boat. The counters of Woolworths Were stacked with joy Something for all the Boys and girls Suspenders for mother Shaving stick for dad And packets of sweeties That we all had. Love Mary x
0
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
When I collected sixpence