"tarantula" poems
After dark, energies flow in manners that pleases them most
braided together in lust, two king cobras were seen spiraling up
when darkness like a camouflage sets in thickly around,you're
the marijuana of my mind, seeking far horizons of pleasure.
I willingly seek oblivion, when pink pointed goosebumps
like tarantula's love bites, results of mating time cruelty
infest all over my body's landscape, signatures of ecstasy.
I feel your lips become, moist, soft, honey from each drips
never enough,for me, is it possible to get inebriated more?
Your sighs and moans speak the vocabulary of a forgotten
ancient language love hurriedly resurrected for us from past,
brevity is the crux of that lingo of erupting jets of desire,
it teaches you to moan in fifty different tones in all;even more?
Your sharpened nails etch cave murals on my itching back
that has the searing taste of blood, in hot hot chilly red.
my taste buds of lust, begs for more and more of it.
You are the marijuana fueling my narcotic flights that land
in your misty land, enveloping my senses as a whole.
"The night is still young, hear what the darkness whispers"
I hear you speak like an oracle, on things about to happen.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
On a wall through the dark of the night,
thrills sent down by countless of legs creeping up and down in their dance
Daddy, is that you ? I asked a spider with long legs
Indeed a daddy longlegs spider haunted for prey
It hopped onto me, trying to guide me out, of this nightmare,
In fact a quite gentle grip of this venomless beast, a sweet embrace of this two eyed arachnid
It whispered to me " Umi, keep going, before they find you "
A shadow of the long past, forgotten in the loitering abyss of time
Serene and clear, my friend kept his dance on my head, resting was no option
A ****** devotion of the creeping darkness,
Ah, phantoms ! Spiders, gather in a dark night,
One tarantula crosses my way, with no intention to bite
The shadow I was running from was no where near, but my knights summoned around me, tapping on the ground with their eight legs in their dance
Realisation floods my mind, relentless, numbing all my senses
The black widow of hatred cast on a pure fury, with lilies of murderous intend, was me,
Running from myself was what I did all these years but not anymore
It is best to dance on these fantastic grounds with me,
Because I am the eternity of this realm of fantasy
After all, we have infinite time in our dreams
~ Umi
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
a miscarriage
a road to nowhere
an ******
a hybrid
a chance missed
a tarantula's kiss
everything's lost
a sea of critique
a man chained in front of the mirror
a priest reciting an unending bible
everything's lost
because perfection is the goal
and failure is the only hope.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
All day panda girl reclines
Exercise she declines
Horsey girl will bring you luck ( U )
Her legs are strong and she drives a truck
Bonobo girl is worth consideration
Taking account of her reputation
Cat girl charms you with her eyes
She chings her claws and claims her prize
Crocodile girl will make you happy
Until she gets a bit too snappy
Dormouse girl may give a peep
Together you'll have a lovely sleep
Turtle girl will be just swell
If you coax her from her shell
Wallaby girl needs some space
To hop about from place to place
Tarantula girl gives you pangs
When she shows her fearsome fangs
Cougar woman's after me
Completing my fantasy
Menagerie
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
In to the mystery of the night, i wander
the tangled tarantula garden
canopied with prophesies of light,
Lit windows are making
overtures to desires
night unleashes at these hours,
hear the buzz in the air
its time to make love,
darkness forgets hurt and embraces light.
i walk alone,
but an enchanting witch wait
for me somewhere in a garden bench,
to take me by my hand to her secret haunt
filled with thick smoke of ****
where she will remove the drapes
to let me see the truth.
On her quill and cactus bed,
she would make me understand,
how far is pleasure from pain
why darkness stalks light,
a jilted lover, walking a few steps behind,
I've heard her, once whisper
to wind in her husky voice
"A life written off by those
who measure out life with coffee spoons,
as spent in vein; this life of mine,
could have its secret treasures,
no charlatan could ever guess about
a serpent's diamonds
very few get to see,
its dangerous to pry, i forgive their ignorance"
Words induced by her dark power
has layers of meaning
but to many it was just meaningless jabbering,
just magic mushroom blabber
She nibbled and nicked my earlobes,
in between intoxicating purrs,
told me the meaning of caterwauls,
**"Its not pain, its not pain,
once you get in to the stream
you only want to drain,
in to the vast blue ocean"**
I recognize now, it's Walpurgis night,
as i walk in search of my witch,
i see dancers around bonfire,
revelers totally out of their minds,
carouse at the heart of the night.
And i see them all, witches in marine blue dresses,
enchantresses in blackly black,
coquettish red or groovy green,
I wait for her to appear,
the only one in resplendent white.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 9:49 AM UTC
maple-cured, smoked, rawhide hands,
tarantula hands bulldozing rice onto
tines like an icebreaker ramming through
glacial bergs, Holly
Golightly on the tv, on
mute, and oh those hips,
that figure, in that black dress,
banana hands cracking Alaskan king
crablegs and ******* the juice and eating
the meat, legs spindly and hairy
and soaked in butter, dripping,
liver cooking, roasting, sloshed on gin,
cribbage board patinaed
in dust, he eats his liver, downs
another gin, cracks another leg, crab
hair caught in his teeth, Holly talking about
getting the mean reds but he can’t
hear it, his luck run out,
his luck a prize from a box of ******* Jack,
and the snarling throb in his head,
cinderblock face, cinderblock house,
3-day-stubble, has he had enough (to drink)?
not by the stubble of his
chinny-chin-chin,
liver is gone, crab is gone,
so he eats the eyes,
dowsing his ******* Jacks
in gin, yesterday wine-in-a-box
and Cheez-Whiz, sprayed right into his
unbrushed maw, a one-person wine-
and-cheese fête classy as it gets,
he’s Mister High Society,
Cheez-Whiz crust in his stubble,
and a cinderblock CRASHES to the floor and it’s
lights out, and Holly, still no one
to hear her, saying
she’ll never let anyone put her in a cage.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
The sun bled infection
Mother Nature wept at all this mess.
they was all runts made of litter
& was done away with each other
before they seent they was
one with each other &
it bothered Father Time so
he shot Big Brother &
Little Sister down with his nine
& god daughter blind saw
the whole slaughter but
thought the whole thing was
pretty much black and white.
Do away with em all, Charlotte.
doused in scarlet charlatan-
lifted inhibition
her golden hearted
harlot trickery
speaks of defeat in victories;
he lived in his liquor
to prevent from feelin
too sick with himself
same reason
he sticks himself with needles
treating diseases
no one but them can see &
feeding to the need of the queen
to keep the screams quiet for the night
& keep the hive alive alright
& thriving vibrant
lest the fiends get violent
& riot inside their minds.
then there's a problem.
but problems is made for solvin.
zoom out, island of lost babies
where they got Wilbur's head on a stake
speaking zen
the monster live within &
we're just seeing in others
a reflection of ourselves.
breathe in, buddha.
burn slow.
move steady or
lose your head.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
Wondaland, a.k.a. The Magic Metropolis
June 13th, 2021
Esteemed Readers and Writers, Gangstapoets and Hangarounds,
Gangstapoetry proudly declares that CREATION 96 is now the second unit of our Global Movement.
We are welcoming our new members. You are now a part of us. Much Love.
Tizzop
GANGSTAPOETS
**** 13.8 * MIKEY DA STREETWISE * EAZY LEGS * ADORABLE GREGGIE * MONICA MATADORA * SLY BOOTYGIRL * COLLAPSIN CHAOT * THE LADY REVENANT * BEEN * WOOZY WIZARD * TELLY * CRATERSKATER * CHEYENNE IS STARVIN * CASPER THE PSYCHOTIC GHOST
GANGSTAPOETS
DESERT SAMURAI * PRESTON * ALBOW * SNOWBLADE MUTANT * SAMBA *
UNKLE OF DOOM * PLAY * ANTWONE *
BOBBY BUTCHAH * TINA * JOEY * DREAM SEEKER * TRANCE DISCIPLE *
* MOTH * DR. **** * KOBA COBRATONGUE
GANGSTAPOETS
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Jul 28, 2021
Jul 28, 2021 at 8:12 AM UTC
wallowing in myself
the rain stops outside
been at it for days.
I walk
to my bathroom everytime
and everytime
the tarantula creeps or darts from
under the toilet seat
and then his little brother from out
the sink drain; I'm on the crazy train now
appalled, I die back into my room
It's raining again.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
Blood, now boils quick, it's intense, he is in fire,
on her every touch, there is a special anesthetic
a poisonous binge, causes tidal waves go berserk
in his stream of blood,tangible effects of arousal results,
body now is a vast field, goosebumps sprout like spotted
magic mushrooms after a night long rain and thunderclaps,
the salacious intent of the scent of woman,wafts,
singing pheromones perfectly rhyme with *** center
of the brain, "Ï am addicted to tarantula's love"
his whisper sounds ominous, tarantula casts her net
Serpentine vines tangle on wild trees,in natural history
museum premises,trees fall down and rise, create leaf beds
dark enclosures where lovers escape the detection of radars,
explore,the unbridled ascent of carnal wishes,as if a permit
is ingrained in the scent of exotic orchids wafting in the wind,
allowing the wild run of instincts, a dam burst, here cobras prowl,
tarantulas, at a quick look are exposed ******* with dark *******
on eight legs the desire stands,waiting for the next ***** lover,
She was watching an insatiable pair of tarantulas in elaborate
mating rituals,they move inside, cracks and burrows,concealed
by the cover of darkness,they come out,to eat the night flowers,
exhaling ****** hunger; their dark, devious fingers, touching, caressing
finding each other's intimate parts has a dark frenzy...
he saw the blue glimmer of a concealed weapon,smeared on by amour,
as they tumble in bed,she flashes her most venomous smile,
like the quick move of the sharp end of a bodkin,
Tarantula's love affair,when it all are over, her lover's end comes near.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
tarantula drag queen. it was you and me and everything beneath our feet.
walk with slammed gods from bar to bar to car to death-by-streetlight and you will see the deity as well skits itself into a fantasy.
every blasted anecdote and every ******* in naked clothing.. hookah my thoughts and we'll share a belief.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
A toadstool is swelling
inside my limbic system.
Spores sweat amongst tissue cavities,
dining out on grey matter,
until they force me
to stay in bed through the day.
What a thing it would be.
Depression as a fungus.
A mildewed mind as damp sets in,
the trumpet player
with athletes foot,
casting out the air-borne blues.
Misfortunes follow one another
along straits of fate,
as if sadness were a colony itself.
I want to take a pill
to **** the mushroom
that plumes over my head.
You can only diagnose
through words and symbols,
only treat once you set down your pen
and hold the hand
of a patient lover,
of the savant drinking at the bar.
For now I will let air in
through the open window,
watch the dreamcatcher sway
and hang like a tarantula
over the stars and crescents,
spilling out over my bed.
When I close my eyes
I hear the ocean in distant traffic,
sounding as waves when rolling by the door.
I will drown in seawater
and hallucinate a scene
of happiness.
Of a place for a poet's retreat.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
It was hot,
so ******* hot.
My house was hotter than *** with a wool sock.
Of course,
there was only one course of action I could take,
get naked.
And so I was naked.
Later that day,
I was walking to the kitchen,
when suddenly,
my belly button started to itch.
I looked down,
and out of my bell button,
crawled an enormous, hairy tarantula.
I immediately slapped the tarantula off my stomach,
and crushed it with my bare foot.
It crunched beneath my foot,
and its slimy being squirted everywhere.
Then, my ear started to itch,
and out crawled,
another tarantula.
Soon,
my throat began to itch,
and my nose began to itch,
and my ******* began to itch..
I don't know why my ******* were itchy,
but,
anyway,
tarantulas began crawling out of all the holes my body had.
Then,
my **** began to itch.
"NO!!" I screamed.
But my words had no power,
and out crawled more tarantulas from my ****
I slowly fell to my knees,
as the tarantulas poured out of my lifeless body.
I did not know what to do,
so I ran to the back of my house,
opened the glass slider,
ran onto the back deck,
and jumped off.
Sadly,
this did not **** me,
and I only broke both my legs.
The bones were sticking straight out of my knees,
and tarantulas began crawling out of my open wounds.
I soon began to choke on the tarantulas,
suffocated,
and died.
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 2:24 AM UTC
Falling to earth with such a crash,
antenna waves and legs do thrash
as panic fills this quiet place,
invading visitor is fast to race.
It chirps so loud, out into the night
perhaps to explain its weary plight.
In hope that someone may attend
and come to rescue a dear friend.
Alas the latter does not show
but I think that it doesn't know,
as off it stalks with knowledge none,
his fate is not an healthy one.
I sit in such a peaceful state.
Contented just to sit and wait
until this morsel feels secure.
As legs thrash through silky lure.
Until that time with such a gasp,
the critter steps into my grasp.
To struggle now is not of worth
as my fangs intrude throughout its girth.
With a body now so soft and limp,
interior now a lovely drink.
Its frenzied kicks to get away
for this cricket will never pay.
Venoms course, its presense felt,
a life that dwindles with the melt.
All that's left are bones to crunch
As this Tarantula enjoys her lunch
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Sitting in a chair counting spots that passed before my eyes.
The insect smiled and said "hold still" i missed one.
They swirl this way and that.
dont move Please. be still.
Not an easy task
a fever of 104.2
could you. I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree.
Sitting on my blanketed chest
The insect did his best to sing me a lullaby.
his breath was horrendous but he meant well.
He stroked my burning cheek and
changed the cool washcloth regularly
on my aching head.
Then turned my pillow to the cool side again.
There my friend.
He scuttled under with me and snuggled
his hairy legs were itchy and rough.
small price to pay.
eh wot.
Oh yes we have no bananas
We have no bananas today.
Captain if we keep pushing her like this
she's gonna blow.
We regret to inform you that
the price of tea in China is now
High as gas in California.
Chicken broth he brought
with a silver spoon to boot
The insect waited patiently
as I swallowed then spooned
the next load in.
"Here let me wipe you chin."
Ladies and gentlemen and all ships at see
The Hindenburg has landed
oh the humanity.
This is not the end
No not the beginning of the end.
But more, the end of the beginning.
Help me up Mr Checks. I think I gotta ***
Oops forgot to raise the lid.
Mr Checks. Can you have room service come up.
we need more Trowels. Uh towels.
Stop hogging the remote. Where's mom
Have you seen my Teddy with one eye missing.
To bed to bed
You sleepy head .
Tarry a while said slow.
Put the *** said greedy glut
Lets stuff before we go .
Mr Checks.
All hands on deck.
We dont have enough lifeboats sir.
The iceberg is sky blue and beautiful dont you agree.
What do you do with a drunken sailor
early in the morning.
Heave ** and up she rises
Early in the morning.
THIS FEVERISH DREAM TO BE CONTINUED.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
Show him your knife, oh! lovely killer, he wouldn't mind,
Seeing your weapon of destruction before the bull is felled,
How much should he suffer,not any more swiftly bring to an end
Was your's love?In such ingenious disguises, how clever!
Well polished and sharpened is the weapon, such meticulous care,
For the precision expected, never ever you missed your target.
A gleaming cutting edge, you sure want to make him proud.
Now I see this clearly, the magnificence darkness processes!
If a sanguinary end of love life is thy pleasure, may thy will prevail,
Yes your love has been expressed tarantula like , from the day one.
The dark angel, with a vengeful gift, you are, the dark bloom too.
Yet another martyr of love, all his pain equals to your one searing kiss.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
I don’t toss or turn in bed,
or even snore at all
I don’t wake you when I rise
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I tell you that I love you
once I see your eyes are open
I let you shower first,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I clean the hairs in the sink,
put down the toilet seat,
place ***** clothes in the laundry
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I double-check the kids
make sure they’re all prepared
then hug them all goodbye
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I make your *** of coffee,
leave your keys where you can see,
let you leave the driveway first,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I have your picture on my wall
that makes me smile every time
You love that diamond wedding ring
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I call you at your job
just to see how you’re doing
and let you know when I’ll be home
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I pick up our kids from school,
give all their friends rides home,
collect all the groceries,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I tidy up our house
while their homework’s being done
Feed the fish, cat, dog, bird, snake, and tarantula,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I let go of all my friends
that I talk to on AIM or MSN
Excited to hear you come in!
But still, I don’t cook dinner
I have the children wash their hands
as I set up the table
Also, I turn off the television,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
Everyone sits down to eat,
expecting a delightful treat
Suddenly you look at me and say,
“Hey, where’s the dinner?!”
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
at a young age, my father taught me to love
insects.
instead of killing, my father would capture spiders,
centipedes, beetles in empty pickle jars.
he would show me the anatomy, let me admire
the different colors, the shape of the pinchers,
how each one moved.
we had a praying mantis hung up on the wall,
it scared my girlfriends.
we had a hairy tarantula encased in a glass orb,
guests could never stare at it for too long.
i compare these insects to my father.
elegiac, with pinchers hidden but
present.
like the insects, i could never understand my father.
when he disappeared for days, reappearing with nothing
but a frown and the scent of beer,
i imagined him with the wings of a beetle, and he had
to fly off to a faraway kingdom.
i compare these insects to my father,
beautiful, but threatening.
his scorpion’s tail was his hand with a bottle,
his poison was the amber liquid squishing
his blood.
i compare these insects to my father,
fragile, unwieldy.
as a butterfly glides through spring, it is similar
to my father discussing his favorite things,
or deep in thought in a novel, or how his eyes
glint when he sees me after a long
absence.
but my father is far more exquisite than
any butterfly.
i still am intrigued by insects, yet i do not
admire them in empty jars.
i set them free, imagining if my father ever longed
to escape his own
jar.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
tarantula crawled slowly
beneath the vine of the soul
voices drifted darkly
spirits in repose
said that not one thing stays the same
words of inspiration
where nothing is to blame
pilgrims migrate
to the sound of a horn
originally didn't stork
take the new born
must be something that i ate
mainly mushrooms, cylocybate
nevertheless something told me
leaving no debate
our wise and giving mother
we first scorned then we *****
was a guitar sound that got me
it played out of tune
like an octave burning slowly
a red flame but cold ember
over a sparse and lonely moon
she crawled over careful
venomous hairs across her back
a calculated movement
the spider who caught the cat
its not the fangs that scare me
a wise but ugly man once said
its the fear we inject
like a venom working slowly
it seeps till at first you can't move
and eventually your dead.
for BD
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 8:14 PM UTC
Downy moss doth grow in shadow
Emerald and darkly damp,
Ancient as the runes of legend
Lost to time's priescent ramp.
Damp and downy, roundly soft
Pubescently profound,
Nestled in the vale of love
Where tarantula abound.
Nestled in the vale between
Stark pillars tall and white,
Nestled where tomorrows day
May flourish into night.
Flourish with the elderberry
Mingled with the sage,
Seeping drops of acid wine
Into the maw of age.
Marshalg
23 February 2013
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
Thunder shakes its hide of rain.
Against the sky, rain retreats.
Rain makes some people lonely
but graces me like a scar.
Rain makes some people just wet.
Against your skin, rain bright-stars.
Rain drifts in deserted rooms
like a speaker suspended.
"Glisten, eyes, and rain freely."
At home flood-rain drowned my dog.
Shake your coat of rain, fly on.
Rain weaves weary paths like the
old Aurelian stone busts.
Forest rain drips, doesn't fall.
Rain runs down softly like a
colorful painted lasso.
Rain breathes on my window sill
like a loaded rifle. Rain
penetrates all skin and bone.
Rain is more serious than
a lover on his deathbed.
Rain can be pitiful like
glowing fire never dead.
Umbrellas familiar
with rain sit forgotten in
closets with old pairs of shoes.
Direwolves prance through rains with tails
held like a tarantula
in molting season beats drums.
Ashpalt puddles boil with rain.
Against the ground, rain retreats.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
it crawled up my arm this time
through my ear and inside my mind
while a liquid the color of blood
trickled from my eye
a sound from a bell tower churned
Like martinis shaken than poured over ice
a man turned towards me
He made a bet and cast his dice
All the while a clock was ticking loudly
an echo inside my head
A boatman was shouting in the distance
your here now
but soon you´ll be dead
and the Cheshire he smiled warmly
as the spider laid its trap
doubt not your heart he said
there's more to truth there than just the facts
trumpets were playing loudly
And the executioner held his axe
a moon crested over horizon
While a play write was finishing his act
he lit a cigarette mildly and tossed it on the floor
smoke plumed out the window and then was no more
death can be blinding
said a rattling snake
he left his skin behind him
and towards the future he did make
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 9:11 AM UTC
this marauding dark.
a bleak behemoth ---
the head of the chimera.
integer by
blind integer,
life's
absolute emptiness.
a sidereal zero.
caught in the web
of a relentless
tarantula.
this
dead end
or this ***** in
the armor.
life's what you make it.
i make it like this:
intractable like a fiend,
these words unsheathe like
rusting swords in old scabbards.
i astonish death with smallness.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC