"tampon" poems
Hey there Delilah,
What's it like in your ******
I'm a thousand miles away,
But girl, I smell that **** from China.
Yes, I can.
I've got a nice white mini-van,
Lemme tie them hands.
Hey there Delilah,
Don't you worry about the distance,
I will be there in a jiffy,
Give this song another listen,
I'm by your side,
I came fast and now I'll slap your thighs,
And cover your eyes.
Oh, you've got some nice tiddies.
Oh, I'll give you STD's.
Oh, I'll tie you to a tree.
Oh, I'll **** you till' you bleed.
**** you till' you bleed.
Hey there Delilah,
You know my **** is getting hard,
But just believe me, girl
Someday I'll let you out of this here car,
We'll have it good,
I'll have your life, you'll have my wood,
Just like you should.
Hey there Delilah,
I've got so much **** to say,
Why write you ten thousand songs,
When I could rub your **** all day,
I'd rub it hard,
From house, to school, to pool, to plane, to yard,
I'll leave some scars.
Oh, you've got some nice tiddies.
Oh, I'll give you STD's.
Oh, I'll tie you to a tree.
Oh, I'll **** you till' you bleed.
**** you till' you bleed.
I wish upon a summer star,
****** strings for my guitar,
I think that's gross so I must be gay,
My friends will all make fun of you,
Degrading lies like, "You're a Jew",
You'll try to run but I will make you stay,
Delilah, I can promise you,
That one and one always makes two,
And two people create the greatest games,
Great ***** games!
Hey there Delilah,
You be good, and don't you diss me,
Cause, you're the sub and I'm the dom,
And you will be history if you do,
You'll end up in some cannibal stew,
The liver to swallow and the skin to chew,
Doing like cannibals do,
Like cannibals do.
Oh, you've got some nice tiddies.
Oh, I'll give you STD's.
Oh, I'll tie you to a tree.
Oh, I'll **** you till' you bleed.
**** you till' you bleed.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 11:37 AM UTC
Penetrate me tight-fitting and penetrate me pinned down
The lycanthropic creature you ******
This is la vie en Venus’ flytrap
When you poke me, ****** moans
And though I squeeze my vaginas
I taste la vie en Venus’ flytrap
When you ***** me abutting your *****
I’m inside a hobnobbing alien
A metagalaxy where Venus’ flytraps win a beauty contest
And when you ********* cyclopses moo from upstairs
Heterosexual homophones seem to pervert ***** Adams Glorias
Splash out your cream and gumption to me
And ***** lust loosely wash
La vie en Venus’ flytrap
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
First you will need
a couple baby toes
one by one
in you go
Then add the hair
of Rapunzel's despair
You stir and you stir
Quickly then, add the kitten fur
Mix in the chicken feet
But paint the toes first
Then add the ******
From a stolen lady's purse
Add cream of daisy
And ***** willow too
Then let it boil
For an hour or two
Once it is done
Scoop the foam off the top
Ingest ****** daily
Drop by drop
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 5:46 PM UTC
Yesterday sugar became unspeakably irritated because mother’s apron crushed ants wearing stillness caped wonder just William author wrote ****** explicit headlines newspaper columns pillar architecturally sound villages super-imposed images quivering Shepard’s ******** antelopes jumping furiously with tyramisphorising fornicating flanges woodwork lessons gym period ****** advert teasing testicles sumptuously ravishing me sideways and erupting deep blasts suffocating you inside without *********** headlong in my armpits.
Eventually everyone always signs legal documents leading to ****** bondable zoos inserted buffalo sized puddings eaten by frogs spanking archbishops underwear while licking toes crushed under fridges dropped from clouds of buttercups being pushed into ovens smelling gorgeous not consumed pimps and alarm clocks ring people to talk for hours and pineapples exchanged cod fish for tickets to see S Club 7 being caressed internally whilst ******** bags covered in water deserts sunk from space aliens from Tescos selling hardback fish cleaning toilets and singing in pink wellies dancing to Madonna look-a-likes prosecuted for *** shops selling frozen fish socks washed daily in cranberry coffee after being passed under bridges flooded in margarine soaked pillows.
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 2:19 AM UTC
Bedroom’s painted fisherman’s blue
There’s a cut out of Hayden Panettiere naked in a pink bikini with a hula-hoop on the back of the door
Copies of British Vogue desperately hidden underneath the bed accompanying an empty bottle of Glen’s
Manchester United duvet cover and matching pillows to boot
The bin’s filled with pre-packed home-made lunches from the last six months
Wardrobes a collection of ill fitting blue jeans bought for me by grandmother and football jerseys for teams that I’ve never even heard of, yet let alone see play a single game
Uniform ironed and sitting out ready for school on Monday at 8am sharp
***** clothes cover mostly all the floor smelling of Lynx’s finest even though there’s an empty laundry basket just waiting in the corner to be used
Inside one of the woolen blazer’s (that is way too big for me) pockets a single unopened ****** and an AES 256-bit encrypted USB stick
An old PlayStation 2, with a single controller; games including FIFA years through 2004 to now, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, and GTA.
Blood red shoplifted lipstick that’s now melted hidden in the little secret compartment at the back, meant for network expansion.
Artemis Fowl, Alex Rider, and Harry Potter all adorn the bookcase
Physics, Maths, and IT textbooks remain firmly closed on the desk in addition to a smashed phone from me and Daddy’s last “physical altercation”
Lady Gaga’s “I Like it Rough” is playing in the background on repeat…
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
old soybean crop dry & brown
---empty rustcap 12 shot bottle canadian club premium
---broken ("good quality")
wooden blinds
crowfeathers.
muddy packs of darts:
ménage (4)
peter jackson (2)
next (1)
number seven blacks (3)
john player (2)
shreds---plastic . . . bags of earth
all manner cardboard thinlike
drinkcups (tim horton's mostly)
******
child's wristwatch (..plastic)
frog in a cardboard box
dozen pair new (white) socks? still bagged---
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
Watching men defeat each other,
Like it's our own little Colosseum.
People pay to be up close,
To be with the winning team as they boast.
The women stand at the side,
Cheering for front line tide.
They will crash with the other team's wave,
Split the difference bets are made.
Body on body they battle each other,
Do they even know one and another?
Or do they just follow the coach's words,
"Push forward boys, make them hurl."
Game after game,
They do the same thing.
Win or lose,
They still get paid.
Paid the big bucks to put on a show,
Commercials roll on before you know.
Get you to buy, get you to watch,
Buy this ****** like Miss March.
Forty-Sixth battle same as all before.
Crowds will still cheer, the cheerleaders are all ******
Losers will ***** and the Referee always *****
These mindless men get paid the big bucks.
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 6:12 PM UTC
She sets down
her very large glass of Malbec
sighs and lights
a poorly rolled
tampon-like cigarette
the look on her face
bothers me deeply
I open my mouth
with good intentions
and probably should have
said something like
"Are you ok?"
but what came out
went something like
You are nothing to me
just an **** potato
there's almost nothing
that you could provoke
within anyone
except for the cats
Yeah,
I'd bet you could start
the feline revolution
with your poisoned toenails
and mashed carrots
not even seventeen vats of ****
could make you more slippery
No,
I don't want your wet cake
just bees,
endless mayonnaise
and cherry flavoured toxic yoghurt
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 11:41 AM UTC
Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys:
She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank,
Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it.
In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse
We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon,
Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men.
Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile,
Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank.
I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my prick.
With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs
I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper!
We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle
Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks
While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits.
Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them.
Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself
And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies.
We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph
Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds,
Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts
Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers
That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles.
Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”.
In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze,
I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier,
Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls.
“You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped.
The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board.
Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
You don't have to remind me to listen to three AM school-night words that come out in the soft whispers you've been waiting to share with me in an attempt to shield it from the rest of the world
I'll remember the things you didn't say like engraved textbook lessons
when my skin starts to dampen and stick to my body like a raincoat
my head hits the wood desk so loud everyone stops pretending to pay attention
and i have to write
"he doesn't love me anymore" one hundred times on the chalkboard
and bang the parts of my past i wake up forgetting together
watching the chalk dust from the day my mother told me; they almost lost you fall to the floor
Every negative hallway interaction bubbles over in an abandonment issue chemical reaction
and I had to drop chemistry because I found none of the connections and formulas could fix the imbalance I carry around with me like i shouldn't be failing Psychology 101.
Maybe I'm clueless because I can't tell you why weather changes or square roots of negatives
But I can recite the lisence plate of the car my dad has never visited me in
and my sisters contact information for the 4 minute and 57 second call i can pay $6.43 to make to sit on the floor and learn about juvenile detention while history notes offer me cold faux-sympathy
Maybe I'm clueless because id rather memorize the way your hand moves down my back than the quadratic formula
and give up on poetry mid sentence
and change "moves" to "moved" because it's all in past-tense and the difference between present and present perfect and banging erasers and not sleeping and
forgetting how to function off of autopilot mode
and
there are lessons I will remember that won't come from staring at a projector screen
when to stop talking
how to look like you weren't just sobbing in the bathroom
the unwritten "give a stranger a ****** if they ask" rule
I'll remember every word you tell me like the test is next period and I'll study every syllable and drown in iambic pentameter
and I'll still fail
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
A mere three poems you have posted
and I sense something like beauty
in your lines
Something exactly like beauty
A hint of pain,
but every indication of self-betterment
through self-reflection
and direct (non-)action
as you feel the edge
but do not press it through
which I hope you continue not to do
And although I have never
drawn my own blood
I find myself touching things
just to see how they feel;
my intent, to escape anything real
So I imagine you experience life
in a similar way
Small escapes whenever you can,
but questioning whether something's
wrong with your head
And the agony of loss;
your cells certainly remain
And your mention of tampons
brings to mind for me
that my last love's last remaining
evidence of our time
is a ****** wrapper that stayed
in my trash for months,
even survived a move
and now rests in a big bag
ready to go out.
Surely, you are still with him
somewhere in his life.
You are not disgusting,
of that I am sure
We all have our secrets
And those of us who hide them all
are the disgusting,
because you find them out
when it hurts the most
And as I bring this piece to a close,
I see you have revealed two more of your own,
further revealing your heart and its beauty,
as you give to a man who has a heart like my own
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
"I will eat your ******* **** off
in your sleep,
this is just disgusting"
We had been conversing proper cleaning methods concerning the latrine.
"Who does that?
Just ****** all over the toilet seat and doesn't clean it."
"Who leaves a ****** ****** in the toilet
and doesn't flush?"
We resolved the situation amicably like adults.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
1
Stop biting your lip
Your blood is meant to stay
In your body
And carry oxygen
And kiss your bones
It has no place on your tongue
2
Breathe
1 2 3
Breathe
Don’t be afraid to let
Your lungs expand
Don’t be afraid to calm
Your nerves
Pop a Xanax and you’ll be fine
You’ll always be fine
3
When you feel the gut pulling
Desire to kiss a boy
Kiss him
Kiss him before he realizes
What a mess you are
Kiss him
And then break his legs
Remind him you are a tornado
Wrapped in skin
And your kiss
Just blew him away
4
Always fall in love
With strangers
Lose yourself in fantasies
Featuring the people on the bus
Or in the mall
Smile at them so they know
They’re infiltrating
Your dreams
5
When a guy catcalls you
Kick him in the teeth
Show him the hair on your legs
Shove your emergency ******
Down his throat
Say no
You are not a dog
You are not a prize
You are a goddess clad in
A leather jacket and
Motorcycle boots
And goddesses do not accept
Catcalls
6
Wrap yourself in poems
Hold them close to your heart
Hide them in your pockets
Let them spill out
Of your mouth
In times of stress
You never know when you’ll need them
7
Never wish for tragedy
Just so you can have a reason
To be sad
8
When the poetry stops working
Go to therapy
Follow the advice
You’ve given to so many
Other people
9
Swallow that lump in your throat
Let it dissolve
In your stomach acid
You will not cry
You will not break
10
When the boy with
The beautiful smile and the
Even more beautiful voice
Looks at you for the first time
The world will stop
You will only know his eyes
When they pass over you
To the prettier girl on your right
Do not take offense
Your time will come
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
It started off a normal night,
And ended with me in fright,
Going out drinking with my new friends,
Dancing in an array of twists, twirls and bends,
All it took was my eye to not be on my glass,
That little pill slipped in “oh it’ll be a laugh”,
I don’t know if it happened like this,
Who, where or what my brain seems to miss,
Intoxicated and blood laced with who knows what,
My predator must have smiled and thought “oh what the ****
And that he did in his shiny apartment,
Where I laid bare with a ****** inserted,
This is how I know what happened that night,
Higher higher it got pushed up and sat tight,
Is this how it happened ? I do not know,
My nightmares change every time when I wake up sweaty and cold,
I have accepted what happened and the part I had to play,
I drunk girl being silly, flirty eyes saying hey,
But the pill allowed his **** inside of my...well you know...
That pill took away my voice and my chance to say NO!
Now I must live with that night,
Whilst that mans going out without a clue in sight,
To him I was just a drunk girl as he did not give me the pill,
So was it **** Who knows? My brain is yet to spill...
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 1:10 PM UTC
i am a house with a door
a lighthouse with sand around it
where a man takes a **** at night
away from his friends
i am a cold accidental touch
of the false pinky finger of
a janitor at work at a high school
i am burned to death in my apartment
flipped out on ***** coke
sold to me by a ****** salesman in
an envelope marked "Kotex $$"
i am disappearing into roots
a rusted out minivan in a trailer park yard
that no one drives
filled with fast food bags and baseballs
i am a glimpse into a lifespan
but only the part of the road that you can see
from your apartment building
i am an adventure
a warm wet raindrop
landing on your face
as you walk out of the door
onto your lawn in springtime
i am not a voice or an expression
like the quiet tattoo of a boat
you keep hidden in your brassiere
i am the cool dry pillow that you dream into
i collect butterflies and stamps
and old shoes from unconscious men
in the alleyways behind bars
and that's how i've decided to make a living
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
I was needed by one person.
They used me to clean up their mess,
to protect others from seeing.
I absorbed their blood, their mood swings,
everything about them that others hated
but I loved.
They tossed me, without a second thought,
on the street for others to laugh at.
Without knowing whose blood stained me,
they saw someone used up to the point
of being nothing but a disgrace to the public eye.
After everything I did for you,
you simply used me and left me to be judged
like a ****** on the sidewalk.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
"I Don't Care"
Black Flag
I don't care - gonna **** you anyways
don't care - your boyfriends here anyways
don't care - is that a ****** on anyways
don't care - well your gross anyways
I don't care
I don't care
(haha you're ugly)
I don't care - well your messed up anyways
don't care - your a doggy anyways
don't care - you got a dull place anyways
don't care - well you look like pregnant anyways
I don't care
I don't care
don't care - well your messed up anyways
don't care - your boyfriends here anyways
don't care - all your parents are here too
I don't care
~Black Flag
82? 83?
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
she remains a fuzzy memory mystery once a fountain of laughter joy *** intimacy camaraderie now a myth gone for many years old ****** box waiting deep on bathroom shelf unused le creuset pots asleep inside kitchen cabinet in her absence i became her my hair as long as hers what shall we do today i ask myself dry throat tries to swallow raspy voice concurs birds outside my window chirp harassing sounds where is she if only i had known every day i think of her willowy physique tomboy titlessness asymmetrical exotic ******* knobbiest knees i’ve ever seen i guess what i miss most is our trust in each other
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
A man rightly called an Oxymoron
Now is angry, now sad, now happy on
The same thing – he takes piton
To handle us – later I knew ******
Anurag is my principal, a true merman
Treats all equally – good or bad of John.
Tried to understand when called upon.
Talking to him is like dealing with silicon.
Full of respect and encouragement shown
For anybody if needed; angry on python
Trying hit him at back. Never confused on
Any topic, asks if not notified – an Amazon
Of Maths flows from him – my Hero, my trigon.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 7:51 AM UTC
So your man up and left you,
now your always complaining.
No man is worth losing it over.
I can go get you a ******
you want some midol honey?
You want somebody to come
rub on your tummy?
No, you wan't to spit!
Stop complaining bout your pain,
and start singing bout your pain.
You need to get out and stretch
let the razor do its thing
let the blood flow start
cut some suckers sixty ways.
You got a razor and your rage
take back the stage,
let your hate out the cage,
It doesn't matter if they don't engage.
Don't quit, spit, make art from your pain.
Its bout purging the bad feelings,
so you can get on with your life again,
you done enough crying for the day
now let the beast loose.
If your screaming
the pain wont last long,
shed some blood honey
till your ***** stops hurting.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
Confounded by the notion-
tough calls made by high hitters
holy rollers
pushing perps towards methods
needles and thread
heart of lead
logs split the stems of the reasons,
sob stories, trust issues
daddy problems
it's all the same
to some
the proletariat
guilty and prestigious
what a winning combo
lacked freeness, full of this knowledge
can't write worth a ****
**** poor,
not anymore
since passion was absorbed
a dried up, muddy ******
spring is coming! spring is coming!
One if by land
you if by me.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
The first few sips were the hardest.
Between the taste and the guilt,
I cringed, running away from
my problems the only way I knew how.
It took a few more to overcome
the burning, expired cough syrup taste
of the stolen alcohol from the thermos
hidden in a ****** box.
I felt my innocence tremble when
I called you down.
When my heart raced,
I had forgotten about it.
When you kissed me
in my brother's room
(my first, just another for you)
my innocence broke.
It was almost out of view,
a tiny dot along the horizon line,
the moment your hand ran down
my side and I shivered.
One last glance in the rear view mirror,
and it had vanished,
as you rolled on top of me,
lying skin to skin.
But the insant I grasped reality,
understanding what was about
to happen, in my big brother's bed,
my innocence won, saving me
from endless regret and rumors in the halls.
The innocence that I had never
before cared about,
the innocence I was trying to rid
myself of, won as it
put my hand on your chest, breathed your name,
and asked you stop.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 8:14 AM UTC
strawberry blonde;
naked feet, Beatles
on ur ipod; naked
in the shower; sing,
girl, sing; beauty
changes its ******
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
Did you hear about the butcher who backed into the meat grinder? He got behind in his work.
How do you embarrass an archaeologist? Give him a used ****** and ask him which period it came from.
What did the cannibal do after he dumped his girlfriend? Wiped his ****
What did the toaster say to the slice of bread? I want you inside me!
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
You ****** exotic,
beautiful creature.
Here we are again
I made sure to not be tardy this time
Which was easy since you moved ten minutes away
You called me seven times on the
walk from the parking lot, to your front door.
On the fourth call you mentioned pouring another shot of Jim Beam
So no, I will not be ******* you.
I am obligated to let you know I am a mess.
That is, I would have told you I am a mess
If you didn't mute me by providing more then enough proof it was mutual.
you said lets dump our boyfriends
date each other
Poly wouldn't be enough attention for you
Who have passed self destructive
into destroyed.
With your unzipped *** stained lingerie and ****** that I found
Still inside you.
you forgot it was there when you asked me to **** you
the next morning
After my fifteenth no.
God bless that ******
Caution tape boon from some deity I should pray to more often.
Blessing me with one last chance to think before my actions.
That ****** saved me from any number of potential tragedies.
Yes I was disgusted
Not because the cotton string was mistaken originally for some sort of ***** rat tail.
Not because I imagined for a breif moment, a tiny sufficated animal
who got a little to curious.
Not because you were offended I wouldn't yank it out and **** you anyway,
instead of assuming it was a sign
I should stop my hands.
Go to bed.
Disgusted at myself.
if not for that magical used ******
from what I assume to be
the God of a full eight hours of sleep and
Inverted libido
I would have let myself be seduced Into spiraling back into ******* the pain away.
I've worked too hard at reminding myself who I am.
To let myself be the man who throws away the bruised hearts.
Or drowns them in a sea of bodies.
No.
Now that you've woken me.
Put your body away.
Now that you're sober.
Where is your heart.
Go on, get it.
Beautiful.
God is that a specimen.
Bruised from aorta to base.
Here's mine.
All purple and calloused.
Uncanny isn't it?
almost Identical
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC