"taffy" poems
oh honey ****
pen and ink **** star warrior
pretty little manga girl
twinkle wisp
with kung fu throwing stars
and triple steel samurai sword
that tear through others
made of pink taffy
and cherry juice fizz blood
moving like lightening
a flying gladiator
with dripping sweet rice
and tapioca milk shake *******
oh
you would taste so good to drink
out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl
with big blow job star goldfish
and hungry pink ***** lips octopus
drooling
sit on your face suckers
oh, fighter of one-legged midgets
the best part after a fresh ****
victory ****
to go down on them
their loli pop *****
butter ***** beautiful
springing through the top of your skull
cause you can't get enough
oh wow
happy hello kitty
***** plump plops
viscous
before the coup de grâce
as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards
with her little swizzle tongue
goo ga licious
before placing
what's left of their hose like glistening entrails
around her throat like a pearl necklace
only to get strangled with it
by double **** UFO boy
solar ******* hero of the universe
so hard
she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts
out of pucker pie ****
**** banged cross eyed
like little girl manga never felt so good
addicted to cruel
whipped with a hella wet noodle
yes no yes no yes no
yes pleazzz
her big blue marble glass eyes
binocular kaleidoscopes
spring out on the floor
and roll around
turning into all seeing
anti-gravity magnetized
silver pin stripped spaceships
peopled by
evil omni ****** **** *****
screaming through eternity
in search of cosmic
tushi sushi
ogling wiggling ballerina butts
bubble gum for the eyeballs
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
A rainy dreary Halloween from 2006.
Candlelit late night
bedroom phone calls.
Your dream about a train ride and mushroom farmers.
My dream about hidden cities.
"I want to feed you ****** and a muscle relaxer and **** the **** out of you"
How long has it been Now?
Too long maybe, some lines are stretched too thin, through waiting and longing, love and lust and the once closest of friendships,
Stretched like Taffy till nearly gossamer strands wound meandering miles of complex life events and other unshared memories.
A too familiar voice.
Echoes of "I want you to have the perfect blow job"
Spaces in conversations that would have been empty if not for the most contagious laugh I've ever heard.
One not matched before or since.
Can you live in the past and long for the future? Is it greedy to desire more of something that was already so sweet? I don't tell anyone about my dreams now. Candles sit on.the shelf primarily unlit.
There are no more secret cities.
No mushroom farmers or train rides
But there are still threads
Stretched like Taffy but woven like a tapestry.
Across time and distance.
Made of memories.
All you'd have to do Is tug on a thread.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
Dear Brianna Evelyn Heins,
Stop Spanx sitting me, I’m old enough to take shape of my own.
Sincerely,
You’re Hips
P.S.
Stop convincing the lips to call me flab-u-lous!
I have my own name.
Stop knocking the knuckles to bone
To hear that hollow hound sound, now don’t use me in your measurement references, I want to live a day
Without spinning round the bouncy bands of your operation game
I’ve seen tweezers fall out of your eyes, to plummet under my moon shone complexion
Please keep in mind the brain is a liar.
And well, I have no twins; your pessimistic ways don’t acknowledge my individuality
The color of shame is not moving, while your red majestic
beast hair torturously tickles my clear space of face.
Brianna,
The brain is a liar!
I know you are told you’re observant;
The deception is grand
Stop pretending you know me
Let me dance dizzy
with the calves
Like coming out of the closet
I’m showing you I’ll never be straight
but brains whisper “weep, weep, weepweepweep”
at the sight of the salt soaked, taffy stretched skin
the brain sends me signals, but I beg for the heart to seep in
Please listen up
rarely do I talk,
for you think words are merely a sound
but the profoundness hasn’t shaken
I know you must feel my urges like
I’m on tonight and my hips don’t lie
beauty may lay in the fragile way I sway
said I’m below
But to hell with you
because this bridge can be crossed
but embers fly in you eyes
and the brain is a liar
a family member I wholeheartedly despise.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 10:32 PM UTC
I was distracted from colors so bright
By the scrumptious cakes and chocolate bars
I walked through those doors, taffy past my height
Where I saw sweet teas and candy cigars
Bins filled with lollipops and gummy bears
Colorful gum ***** and chocolate coins
Chocolate dipped plums and delicious pears
Oh, how very sweet! The ache in my *****
One man so strange tapped me on the shoulder
“Hello,” said the man, breath scented of smoke
“There is more candy out where it’s colder”
I follow him out. He hands me a coke.
But to my surprise, no candy outdoors.
In the trunk of his car and on all fours
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
A TERM OF ENDEARMENT.....
As a little girl my girl friends dad
Called me BIRDBRAIN....
And that never bothered me.
I knew it was a term of endearment.
Of course back then I didn't know
What endearment meant.
But I knew he was kidding...
His house was the fun house
Of the neighborhood.
His wife was an angel.
We had taffy pulls,
Mrs G made popcorn *****
And lined up chairs
In front of the television
So we kids could watch
Wrestling....
with a big bubble magnifying glass
And she served us bowls of popcorn.
Always something to do....
I went to the quarry one time with them
Looking for fancy rocks....
Mr. G, Mr. G is this a good one?
No Birdbrain, it's just sandstone...
He was a fancy rock collector...
The name Birdbrain was so special to me...
A name which was spoken with
Endearment....
I'm sure of that.....
By judy
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
Banana taffy,
Hard and smooth,
Like a banana cream pie,
But not as rich.
Banana milk,
So playful smooth,
Like liquid laughter,
Like dancing mirth.
The fruit's so different,
Not rich or smooth,
A different taste,
A different love.
This fake banana,
Makes me spin,
Dancing like a child,
So young, so free.
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 11:12 PM UTC
Title #1: Dear Hi-Chews (Morinaga & Co.),
Laughy-Taffy’s Fun
Always incorporate a pun
Yours need a haiku
Title #2: Hi-Chew 2.0
Our sells would just sore
But the brandings a bore, solved:
Include a haiku
Title #3: Mango Flavor
Hi-chews are yummy
But the mango is nasty
Discontinue Please
Title #4: Sales
Hi-chew sells are down
When Laughy-taffy’s around
Add a fun Haiku
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
The smell of a newborn baby after a bath, all sprinkled with powder.
I don't think that smell will ever change.
A smell I will always remember...
My grandma Bertha would always smell like lavender.
I use to buy lavender soap, and hand cream because it made
me think of her.
A smell I will always remember...
My great uncle would make taffy, and one time I helped stretch it.
A smell I will always remember...
My mom would take me to dance class, and the building smelled
like Carmel. Much later in life, I entered a building that had the same smell, and it brought back those old days.
A smell I will always remember...
When a storm was brewing in Lake Erie there was a smell of raging waters. A north eastern was coming - I could smell it.
A smell I will always remember...
The soothing sound of the motor boat passing by leaving the smell
of gasoline - why did that comfort me?
A smell I will always remember...
Walking down the beach, bear foot in the sand, and running across
a dried up dead fish.
A smell I will always remember...
My husband would always use Comet with bleach to clean out the
sink, tub and he would sprinkle it add a bit of water making it a
paste, and let it set for an hour.
A smell I will always remember...
Smell can bring back a memory, at least for me...some good, some bad, but these are a few of my favorite memories of smell...and when I smell them now, it sparks my memory.
by ~ judy
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
I am as bitter as pure cocoa
As sour as a warhead
More layered than a jawbreaker,
To protect myself from someones
sweet tooth.
But I hope one day,
Someone sees that I am actually
Sweeter than taffy,
More vulnerable than cotton candy,
And more delightful than Turkish delights.
I hope to fulfill someone's cravings.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
I found a scribbled piece of paper on my coat,
The wife wrote, "pick up some CANDLES" in a note.
I thought it said "CANDIES" hoping to discover,
that we finally would have candies,
In our cupboard.
So I bought in a rush:
Snickers, Abba Zabba, Milky Way, Three Musketeers, Reeses peanut butter cups, M&Ms, Almond Joy, Milk Duds, laughy Taffy....and such.
I called her and told her all the candies I bought,
She said, "CANDLES, stupid", so I hung up.
Jul 13, 2025
Jul 13, 2025 at 4:22 PM UTC
Sometimes we need something besides Covid19 and Protest's. So today sending you a thought...Can you remember special smells?
A MEMORY OF SMELLS, ARE THEY STILL THE SAME?
The smell of a newborn baby after a bath, all sprinkled with powder.
I don't think that smell will ever change.
A smell I will always remember...
My grandma Bertha would always smell like lavender.
I use to buy lavender soap, and hand cream because it made
me think of her.
A smell I will always remember...
My great uncle would make taffy, and one time I helped stretch it.
A smell I will always remember...
My mom would take me to dance class, and the building smelled
like Carmel. Much later in life, I entered a building that had the same smell, and it brought back those old days.
A smell I will always remember...
When a storm was brewing in Lake Erie there was a smell of raging waters. A north eastern was coming - I could smell it.
A smell I will always remember...
The soothing sound of the motor boat passing by leaving the smell
of gasoline - why did that comfort me?
A smell I will always remember...
Walking down the beach, bear foot in the sand, and running across
a dried up dead fish.
A smell I will always remember...
My husband would always use Comet with bleach to clean out the
sink, tub and he would sprinkle it add a bit of water making it a
paste, and let it set for an hour.
A smell I will always remember...
Smell can bring back a memory, at least for me...some good, some bad, but these are a few of my favorite memories of smell...and when I smell them now, it sparks my memory, again...
by ~ judy
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 7:23 PM UTC
there’s something
about the taste
the feel
the experience
of imitation strawberries
strawberry Laffy Taffy
strawberry milk
strawberry pokey
light pink
like the cream
left over
after eating fresh strawberries
drenched in cream
and covering with sugar
that off white
pink
colour
tasting slightly of strawberries
but not really
innocent yet naughty
like your first discovery
of your sexuality
alone in your room
on a lazy afternoon
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
Children grow up
with jump ropes
barbie dolls
and suckers tangled in their hair
Children grow up
in daddy's shoes
and mommy's dresses
and Pixy Stix sugar in their laps
Children grow up
feeling the boom of fireworks
wading in the cold pool water
and pop rocks dancing on their tongue
Children grow up
with secrets kept from them
and told to them
and pockets filled with smarties wrappers as bribes
Children grow up
with dirt under their nails
and rain water soaking their clothes
and taffy between their teeth
Children grow up
with the wonders and horrors of the world
all on a sugar high
so they never learn the difference
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
If wishes were fishes,
I'd have a whole bunch.
Swimming in fishbowls,
Awaiting their lunch.
If wishes were french fries,
I'd have a caboodle.
Frying in the skillet,
To feed to my poodle.
If wishes were colors,
I'd have a rainbow.
Coloring the world,
In hues of magenta and mango.
If wishes were flowers,
I'd have a garden full.
Showing their pretty faces,
And smelling of taffy pull.
If wishes were mine,
I'd hand out a dozen.
To every girl and boy,
To each uncle and cousin.
Jan 4, 2011
Jan 4, 2011 at 1:06 AM UTC
cotton candy kisses
your mouth are sour patch kids
licking the lips, they are sour
but the tongue is oh so sweet
taste buds are alive. tingling. sizzling.
your ears are hershey kisses
small, adorable and delectable.
your skin is mouth watering taffy
melting all over me.
your tootise pop is my favorite
the exterior is hard, just like tasty candy
the inside gooey and messy
not too many licks
but just enough, to taste my favorite
treat of all
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 11:46 PM UTC
spoon fed my keepsakes as nothing blots the sun so much
you teach me how to cringe in spun sugar. the nape of your
neck.
gleefully, we usurp the thicket of our mild dementia. sullen
joy equipped. a sumptuous dirge curdles the myth, your fins
***
as troubadours, we malinger in the pith of our blunt fruit. crust
removed from our daily bread. our basket of basilisks, bathe
in stone.
duel wielding our gazebos... we bivouac in our ambivalence, by
turns we move. you tip toadstools as i milk maidens for their
candelabras.
our palominos run. we do
violence to timpani and click mice.
pc
drifting in the cyberwocky. we transit the binary auto-bond
and paste
whats
clip.
blue thumbs thread cranberry noose. our ***** nods off. fronds
of juniper and cannabis slap the window pane. throughwhich
a *** mouse pounced on frond’s sway.
startled, we move the furniture of our eastern proclivities.
for thine is the kingdom
of our discontent !
swing-shift lap-dogs, trundle west of the east village. smell
of ****** and nag champa. idiots sting.
idiots braid zodiacs with greasy fingers. [ indeed ]
and
you
preach from your gut...
( your left breast marvelous with taint) and saltwater taffy.
we
laugh again-
at things we have
and now
only
harbor ghosts
where the rain
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
this is the new
intimacy.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 7:03 AM UTC
Mary, plain name. Mary, mother of God
Mary, Queen of the Strip Mall
Mary, daughter of a King and a *****
Divinity in her blood, conqueror of lands,
Monarch of her body, kingdom of junkies.
Nails inlaid with pearls, mink lashes and onyx eyes
Indigo polyester wraps her 36, 30, 41,
saltwater taffy legs, **** and ***
Mary wasn’t a tall boy, Mary is a funnel cloud queen
Obsidian brazilian in velcro, soda can curls.
Mary has no titles, Mary is a ******* Mary is an exile.
Queen of cream stucco and neon and parking lots.
Mary has disciples, all named Judas.
She has Roy Cohn, the judge’s son, and Louis XIV on their knees in prayer.
She has **** Cheney, Little Richard, and Freud their knees in the bathroom behind the Tesco.
Mary doesn’t confess, doesn’t beg, doesn’t buy.
Mary the conqueror, Alexander reincarnate, she survives.
Body bathed in ultraviolet, cocoa butter, vaseline, and newport menthols.
Mary talks to God in the mirrors at the salvation army.
Mary is scared of dying, she knows she is no ones martyr.
Mary never kneels, left the Bible in the motel nightstand.
A graceful end, a unceremonious departure.
Trade rose petals for needles and styrofoam slurpee cups.
Mary’s mistresses, lovers, and wives, gave her a few lead rounds,
Left her in the strip mall mausoleum.
Mary, queen of the carnal, saint of suburban perversions.
Mary never asked God for forgiveness or a fix.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC
we stretched
the sugar coated
sweet taffy
all day long
taffy snap back
into our mouths
and roll down
into our
childish bellies
as we buzzed
our wings
through the
tall switch
grass of home
in a dragonfly
happy mode
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 10:34 PM UTC
In summers past, hot and hazy,
we wandered northern shorelines,
sand whipping salt brine and
vinegar enveloped, marveling that
even the Amish possess swimwear.
I lingered at the taffy shop,
toe-raised peering through smudged
glass and candy bins, spying
both worker and robo-worker
pulling long tough ropes of
salty confection and memory.
Our time on the path is pulled taffy,
event-pummeled, tugged asunder,
reunited bittersweet.
baked boardwalk beneath feet,
cobbled personality planks
stretching taffy of time
In summers past I was there.
In summers present i am there.
In summers beyond we are back
there once again
folded and kneaded
smiling, reunited.
This is the back-end of forever,
yet do not fear;
the dying of the light
is the dawning of the dusk:
a wheel that we spin,
a point that we traverse,
a keeping of a promise,
a memory of a scent,
a vision of disorder,
and the chaos in the calm.
Cower.
Rejoice.
Repeat.
Amen.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
one day the giant teacher
walked pupils round the world
some small giant boys
some small giant girls
jimmy giant stick your hand
down through the cloudy mist
tell me our location ...
his methods had a twist
think we are in india
triumphant in his call
i can smell the curry
and feel the taj mahal
julie giant,tommy, joe
***** stan, and sid
egypt was the answer
they touched the pyramid
china, shouted sally
i can feel the wall
chinese folk in paddy fields
i can touch em all
tiny taffy last in turn
came trailing from behind
dai stick your hand down through the sky
and see what you can find
BLAENAVON, shouted dai
while clutching at his crotch.
can you feel the big pit?
no,.... some **** stole my watch
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 1:39 PM UTC
*serpent girl dancing
on a red stone cobbled hill
ritual of
Leviathan
trident to the belly
on stained alters bleached
blood and sweat sacrifice
candles burning
from the bottoms up
dipped in tears and pearls
nothing she won't do
swaying her hips
rhythmically
while toothless mouths sobbing
gum her body
a curse of deification
necromancer
*** pact
gorgeous fornicator
walking under water
her heart like a diamond
player of the infernal tarot
creeps daughter down on all fours
eating ***** with her butter *** up
quantum jumping
doing the planetary bunny hop
on vacation in a fire red bikini
and la dolce vita sunglasses
shes a guest of the sage of pyramids
catching solar rays
reading
from the book of doom
and fake dogmas
lips like obsidian fire
that eat bad children
especially ankle biters
scryer of black warped mirrors ranting
singing in the Vatican of the dead living
worm girls kissing muscular arterial shafts
and ***** in a twist
while making vampire paintings
in dark ritual adorations
****
of
oodoo
voodoo
i
do
to
you you
plying your soul
with dreams
of
Hollywood
cinema
and headless swiveling
Bollywood
jitterbug
beating devils gory
with harrowing archfiends
and ****** heels
for
love money *** and combat
gods above
angels to the flanks
north south east and west
seventy-two demons below
a crystal floor of vice gripped cherubim
with steal shewed pentagrams
holding dominion
with golden ring
enclosed in a synagogue of will
she's my hot randy *****
in leopard *******
don't **** with her
she eats souls
like taffy
while posing
as a kitten
outside her window*
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 8:05 AM UTC
the animated man moves with languid effect
against the scattered clouds of the sky far overhead
he walks at a slow stumble
on the oil stained pavement of suburban driveway
'this is where the light blue mustang was parked'
he is carrying a stone carved into the shape of a head
its mind leaning precarious over the edge of sanity
you can taste its butterscotch candy laughter
and its salt water taffy tears
its face frozen in apocalypse of conflicting thought
he moves along the dirt road
hemmed in by trees and wild growths
the humidity so thick you swim rather than tread
but the feral grin sewn into his face
with her needle and threads
is what moves her
she adores its primal bloodletting
a self contained self abuse machine
she leads the way down the dusty road
to the clearing where night children gather
to make celebrations to dark matter
and the things it spawns
her thighs tingle at the thought of dead flesh
and feasts of the eyes filthy mind
the images in her mind are never really clear to her
just **** flesh rubbing cold things
i am disturbed by her dark dream
seek to flee on wings of night
but fail as he arrives head in hand
and pronounces logical rules for the slaughter
this night has no end
just the rest of fitful dreams
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
lil taffy two tugs would wake up to the dawn,leaping to his laptop searching sites for porn,thanking stephen hawkins, also mr gates,grateful of technology, while taffy masterbates.the boyo bashed his bishop, most of all his life,now pc world was better and cheaper than a wife,lubrication, change of hands, oil and vaseline,lesbians, fat fetishes, and threesomes on his screen,but poor ole taffy passed away, his family in disgrace,trousers round his ankles, a smile upon his face,but two tugs died so happy, while he had a vid on,undertaker done his nutt,,,,he could'nt get the lid on.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 12:37 PM UTC