"titillating" poems
Her titillating tattoo
tantalizes me deeply,
to the tenth degree. I see
it as I slip her silk dress
slowly down her left shoulder.
A lizard lying on a
boulder, contrasting with her
silky smooth soft snowy skin.
I kiss her shoulder, and she
shudders and sighs a deep sigh.
Goosebumps rise up her body
as a sturdy gust seizes
the moment. The forest we
make love in quakes and shakes
as she shivers and quivers
under the touch of my hands.
My left hand holds her upper
arm, while my right grips her hips.
She closes her eyes, smiling,
giggling in amusement.
I spin her slowly ‘round, and
look into her hazel eyes,
her soft ******* and thighs against
mine for warmth and gentle touch.
I kiss her lips. Strawberry.
And we slide down to the ground.
The scariness we have found
slips away in our grace. We
sinners share our shame, our lust,
and come to a conclusion,
and bust each others doors down,
sweet ****** on this cold ground.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
tell me...
will tomorrow bring,
all the things
i'm longing...
stowed upon its elusive wings,
tirelessly beating
and fighting
to show what's dangling
and hanging...
ready for the picking...
awaiting...
such time so it could begin its need for unloading,
delivering
and dropping,
its gleaming
treasures
on those who are deserving,
in no way lacking
so they could be at the receiving
end of this pressurising,
inking
of dwindling
words...
careless thoughts conceived only to
fuel
my deranged ramblings...
incessant mutterings of a shattering
mind...
bending backwards, almost breaking,
risking...
the chance of ever fully
mending...
hoping and praying
for a sentence that's pending
dawn's approval...
allowing
the rising
of the sun...
paving
ways for thriving
wishes,
unbarring
gates for soaring
dreams, unlocking
latches,
relieving...
the heightening
anxieties of grieving
hearts.
constantly whispering
utterances, promising
good will, happiness
and titillating
sanity.
we're thinking...
the earth is spinning,
the moon is setting,
so the sun must be rising
but...
tell me,
tomorrow...
is it coming?
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
From the green hill, blows downwards
a wind, gently titillating the languid trees
of this dense forest,the rustling of the leaves create,
an impromptu tune, proving they are taut strings,
yielding willingly to the sensual fingers of the wind.
Super moon,while raising, listens keenly awhile
as if she had never heard one like this before.
The wise silver owl, sitting on the high branch
keeping account of every stroke of night,with an imaginary wand,
as the conductor, catches the emerging mood that seethes
within the million pieces of orchestra that gently merge,
get exhilarated, finds a pause to punctuate it with a timely hoot,
the moment freezes, falls in to the repository of time for keeps.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
PLEDGE TO NIGERIA
By: Adigun Temitope Idealism
From between heaven and earth stand a perilous place
Where poverty kicked us on face
Tears stand as our drinks
Where hunger eat up our meals
Our pain is a poisonous laughter
Where sadness becomes our daily activities
Where hardship becomes our ambition
And sorrow our career
Still, we need to pledge to Nigeria
Blood, bone and oil,
Are the pedestal of earth
Where killing is a lifestyle
And ****** a hobby
Where humiliation becomes our take home
And misfortune our store-house
Where graduate works by the road-side
Where poverty is titillating and titivating before the mirror of our land
Yet we need to pledge to Nigeria
Pledge to Nigeria
Even when the birds refuses to sing,
When moon dims its light,
When our days turn into nights
When sun fails to shine
And flowers refuse to bloom
When life fails to give reasons
When dreams refuse to forgive
When the weep inside birth the smile outside
When tears wash hope from our sight
Nigeria must still be pledge to
I pledge to Nigeria
Not to be one if the ambassadors that sing the National Anthem with a teleprompter smiling at them in a shameful tears
I pledge not to be a naked masquerade dancing at the village square
I pledge to steal government money for the poor when I become the President
I pledge to be loyal and not betrayal
I pledge to fight off vices and calamities with my pen
If democracy must to end
I pledge to go crazy to stop it to the end
If civilization was to make us stupid
I pledge to swim in stupidity not to be civilised
I pledge, I pledge
©2015 Adigun Temitope Idealism (Deacon)
#Muse #PurposefulPoetry #BPM #IIB #Asaplanet #ThoughtAndSociety #Poetfreak
blackpridemagazin.simplesite.com
@blackpridemag1
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
*all my life i held a dream
of a woman i would love
of course
she would be alluring
supple
a charming countenance
erudite, with an angelic face
her body
a muscular stretching willow
arching her legs over head
kissing her own
curving soft feet
a graceful contortionist
in confetti colored sparkle pantyhose
stretching towards me
silken hair draping a perfect symmetry
with spun sugar kisses
wafting the scent of vanilla
and candied vaporous breath
lips like cherry lozenges
but
one never knows ones destiny
i met her
my girl destiny
and except for a faint look of languor and ruin
with a tinge of withering
she was without doubt unbearably titillating
with razor-thin blackened lips
mascara slits for eyes
hair pulled straight back
jet black
jelled like hardened licorice
with satanic blood rivulets
and pitch fork tattooed ****
a vice of lechery
a malefaction of moral turpitude
her *** scarred from orgiastic beatings
her **** became
like a large wrinkly mouth
resembling the face of a bullfrog
from pleasuring herself with
tableware cutlery
her soul
a broken creel
suffering bouts of anxiety
like a weeping moon
having been institutionalized
in Mother Marys Hell House
from a ghastly bout of parricide
her father,
a hobbling gloomish troll
while the dark veins of mother
ran through her soul
leaving little choice
but to dispatch
the parents
abandoning their corpses in the kitchen
like strewn litter
turned out
just my
kinda
girl
d
e
s
t
i
n
y
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC
The nightingale is titillating;
its songs shiver down my spine
while listening to its melodious voice;
hearing the pitch-perfect harmonies,
is as calming as the summer sea
I watch the nightingale, perfectly perched on the tree
whispering sweet sounds of seduction
beckoning to her mate
its voice echoes throughout the night
Filling the eeriness of the pitch-black sky
My own nightingale, won't you sing to me?
Your voice is my sanity,
soft-spoken and light, solace rests in your songs,
It covers me like a blanket,
shielding me from all harm
Safe and sound in your presence
captured by those gentle brown eyes
your peace is like the moon,
Resting still in the dark
But always following around
My nightingale sings me to sleep
as the sky changes from dusk to night
the sweet little notes caress my ears
while I gently close my eyes
dreaming to her lovely lullaby
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul
Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M.
Deep in the distance
dancing upon the horizon
a deeply distinctive voice
defies definition
bending genres to her will
clearly breaking boundaries
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Little Girl Blue
lettin' it all out
with a wild as the wind
Sinner man
just tryin' to feel good
absolutely refusing to be misunderstood
a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes
into blazing beautiful harmony
putting a revolutionary spell on you
belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit
Peace of Heart
Nectar of Truth
just in time
to do what you do...
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
Born to a preacher handyman
and housemaid minister
a gospel pop fusion diva
emerges from the Glory of Love
a strange volatile fruit
blossoms into young, gifted, and Black
spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold
from a silky soul
that scorches the earth
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Masterfully mesmerizing
Black rock
Blood
and Candlesmoke
a fiery flow of
tangy, tantalizing and titillating
under a fog of duality
genius bears two heads
vibrant and intricate
a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty
an empowered diva
breaks down and let's it all out
just energetic expressive jazz
injected with well composed folklore
live at Ronnie Scotts
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
From Newport to Baltimore
an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit
and hypnotizes the masses
with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs
a powerful
Four Women
high on Lilac Wine
blush from Broadway Blues Ballads
in Baltimore
See-line woman
goes to hell
to save Little Liza Jane
and shelters in Barbados
Cotton-eyed Joe feeds
Brown Baby controversy
behind Blue Prelude
Did it move you?
Yeah...
Hell yeah.. it moved me too!
Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird
in chilly winds that don't blow
while willows weep something seemingly
symbolic of soothing
to an African mailman in Central Park
and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
The High Priestess of Soul
caged but still singing
shivering sensations
from stubborn sweetness
under sweet strings
that sharply spill and scatter strength
to the sorrowful
that daily dine and devour
silky, soulful, and spicy
Pastel Blues.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
carnal,
****** fingertips
against blushing skin,
swallowed eyes over
beauty,
naked lips,
heart beating;
leaping
over
the mans smile.
Raw nature,
turning,
the slipping
crease among eyes
captures moisture
dew drops
over
window
seals,
steaming
calling
coming
closer
fingers
titillating
wet skin
rubbing
itching
body
moving
echoes crawling
screaming
faster
lip biting
twitching
closer
faster
coming
closer
closer
coming
close
r
closer
closer
close
clo
cl
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
I’ve got a history of one night stands.
Nights that end alone,
Adding up the lovers it all blurs
into an escapade of ecstasy.
Abusadora,
Is what is written across my heart.
So diseased, and devoured I can’t help the desire I have
to be touched, and consumed.
Eat all my words, envelop all that I am.
Let me take you in, and let you rot inside for the night.
False connections. Yet my body knows what to do next,
Just get undressed and let my insatiable appetite do the rest.
I left you behind, on purpose.
I had you leave my titillating circus.
No need for you to stay,
When I cannot even begin to behave.
I am my own best company.
Especially when I become what one would define as, Aroused.
So I’ll teach myself to remember
that history is often repeated.
I’ll dispose of the man that thinks he is worthy
Of all that is that makes me.
For there is no other sensation best kept
As the ones my own body does *****
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 3:03 AM UTC
heads turn
and minds churn
as the old white knuckle
brings life to the board
facilitation (and procreation!)
become heavenly fit
for the
paradigm day
jitter men
and podium seniors
sit cocked
in the back row
front runners
bust a brain box
(their lines frayed
and edges portrayed)
truth makers tread
the center stage
(with a new and improved
product portfolio)
an evolution
of human spirit
mobilized
in apparent
perfect form
sound bites
and titillating calls
echo from
the main hall
a wise man
cringes
on a poorly
timed exchange
mind sets moving
quid pro quo
intuitions
and convictions
viewpoints
and revelations
all fun
and fundamental
(or so they say)
depth charts
and zodiac principles
speak to the masses
abbreviations
refreshers
and timeless
lifelines
*we’d like a peak
inside of you*
a glimpse
of your point of view
the turks and talking heads
speak of
grand design
and inclusion
class complete
(interpreted at the 7th sneeze)
please check those thoughts
and insights
the final answers
are coming
(satiric)
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
The essence of patience
The patience of light
The travel it takes, knowing
It must last for eternity,
Beaming forward, granting anew.
Patience the virtue.
The status to achieve, allowing now
So that next can just be, as it will.
The patience to leap.
Courage carries patience clear,
Fears weight sinking below.
Patience for death, for one again.
The longing for You, to know us again.
Patience to see clearly, open my heart
To now.
Moments always planned out.
Patience for the ******
Patience for the touch of your skin,
The relation of kin, of natural senses.
Of the things that flow, easy.
Of titillating tickling of the, everything.
Your smell will bring me in.
I know it well… the musk of Earth
Wrapped in the forest, deep dug in my gut.
Dug down patiently to prepare my ground
To rise my crown, patient now
As maturation continues to take place.
Dug down, spine curled out
Back arched, heart opened…
Patient, awaiting your trail
My tribe hunts and gathers,
We know we need each other,
And so we hunt, and we create
And we locate…patience for
The revolution taking place…
Cyclical naturals, cycles of nature.
Back to the Earth we all go.
All things have a cycle.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
the tune had been haunting
london for weeks past,
but when the lights went out,
they went out fast.
none of us thought
those days would end.
the music would always be there
anytime we needed a friend.
the sweetness of the soprano;
sprinkled over a sultry saxophone;
the steady heartbeat of an upright bass;
titillating trumpets tooting a tune.
the raven-haired lady: the envy of the room;
the men could only dream
of being so lucky.
the ladies could only scream,
hoping to catch the tall dark stranger's eye.
at the end of the night,
we all sang a whiskey lullaby.
but the wind blew cold-
it made us shiver.
the band packed up their magic.
the soprano ran off with the tall dark stranger.
all alone and without home,
the raven-haired lady blew her mind out,
nowhere left to roam.
nights became weeks and weeks became months.
our throats were perpetually plugged with lumps.
it's hard to say how meaningful it can be-
the touch something can have,
no matter how seemingly arbitrary-
until it is gone with the wind.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC
Licking the ***** off the small peaks,
Each dilated eye in ecstasy truly speaks.
The peaks are so natural button-like soft,
Conveying sans the speech the desire oft.
Whenever stiff & excited about to burst,
Titillating the sensuality be with trust.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
365Nectar #60 Devour Me
Fri. November 22, 2013 9:18 P.M.
Devour me...
A provocative passionate pouring
of pillaging and plundering...
A pleasing prowling
of a piercing plunderer...
A lovely, limp nymph
laid upon a sizzling alter...
Smoldering...
Awakening all the senses
a choking of lust
unleashes exhilarating
and
envelops you...
Effortlessly evoking ethereal...
a sinister seduction
seductively seduces
and hungry hips
breakdance with hysterical
Stimulating a surreal surge of a sweet seeping...
waiting...
impatiently...
For you to chisel
an unimaginable devouring...
S slow steady climb to the summit
of the ultimate ******
Time-
Time-
Time... a tool to employ flamboyantly...
immediately...
eargerly...
Expose my conquered heart
that leaks
of streams
of cream
of succulent sensation...
Expose my tamed moistness
that whispery whines
as you build a legacy
of torturous licking....
Seductively...
Slithering in spicy spirals
of stirring screams
from stormy shivers
of steamy anticipation
of your redefining touch...
Suddenly...
drowning in the sticky sensation
of all that is us...
A tender luscious love liquefying flesh
and penetrating souls...
We blend in blazing bliss
tapping taboo for titillating thrills
you rock a rowdy ravishing
inside me...
I whisper wet whimpers
and beg for bitten breast...
Our wrestling hips
hug, ***** and groan a hungry growling...
Pounded into saturated submission
I linger in lubricating dreams
for you-
to...
devour me.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
She is all kinds;
Of stunning,
Exquisite intrigue;
Sultry crude substance,
She is bequeathed of delicate allure;
She is,
Raw beauty;
Unpolished titillating elegance,
Unfettered natural charm;
She is provocation,
Captivating distraction;
Deviation of one's resolve,
Without so much as a casual glance;
Riveting seduction,
A Mona Lisa of subtle sweet temptation;
Yet unpolished,
She shimmers and radiates through the haze;
Unlike fool's gold she is genuine tangible truth,
A magic act of unquestionable splendor;
Waiting lurking smoldering essence,
She is --
Rapture divine; beyond words...
© okpoet
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
She's delectable
Her every word titillating
Her every touch ******
Lips meant for biting
Her voice meant to moan
Her body's meant for me
Her ******* meant for my teeth lips and tongue
Her *** filling my palms *** its pulled ,grabbed, spread an spanked
Her ******* waiting for my every touch an pull grab kiss and bite
Hips call to my teeth to be bitten,screaming for my hands for more grab them pull them
Legs begging to be kissed nibbled and caressed
Her shoulders and neck meant for my lips my hands my teeth
More I crave them all, the the taste calls to me screaming my name
Her ****** calls to me echoing in my mind forever to trigger my cravings driving me crazier ever time I see her
She's my fetish my craving my desire
My lustrous dream of craving.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
looking down
to spot my shadow,
i glimpse
your slender silhouette instead.
my orange tip butterfly!
this ain’t a sleight of light,
as dreams merge
our souls unite,
leaving our tanned bodies tangled
in a titillating state of tantric union
© 2021
Sep 18, 2021
Sep 18, 2021 at 8:36 AM UTC
Ushered into the breathable
Strung on undefinable threads,
Life's atmospheric interlacing;
A weaving, hidden to opaque sight
Subtle ties, loosen and relax,
Chest enmeshed entirely,
Titillating summations of Earth's enthusiasm
Entwine in activities of the lungs and heart
Pumping action, energy, growth,
Air feeds fire, and power, and blood,
Burning from the inside, animated,
Billions of cellular suns, throbbing
Light in the garden of the body,
Alive with murmurs, and hums
Of love, all of time, and space,
Moved to produce this oscillation
Ecstatic the body expands in swells,
Ecstatic the body contracts in swells,
Ecstatic are the waves exchanging,
Ecstatic is the surge of breath
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
Face me...fixedly eye to eye, four hands intertwined in infinite reciprocation, articulating...
Osculate my mind with your intellectual parlance, ardently and with hedonistic electricity arousing my neurons, titillating my synapses, sending lustful charge down my nerves.
I crave to feel your utterances surge through me, course throughout every bifurcation, and transude from every last pore of my flesh.
Grasp my heart with your loquacity, embracing so passionately, that our beats become one resonating cadence whilst exchanging harmonious rhythm.
Caress my flesh with cognital poetry woven from emotions existent only to us.
Trace my veins with every word born from pain, contentment, angst and tranquility... pressing their vehemence into my bloodstream, surrendering my pulses to ******
I yearn to listen to you make me moan, as I arch my back, tilt my head and release in silent screaming ecstasy... sating you with visual affirmation of our sapiosexual affair.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
~
*if you're feeling sinister tonight, come inside the darkroom. picture yourself pouring over mental images of a demure young botanist, loitering around the trapdoor of nostalgia, kissing someone new for the first time.
now imagine she is conscious and clustered in titillating blur, her smile beachy and airborne, with only the slightest suggestion that something troublesome is lurking underneath.
can you see her double exposure? totally tranquil, she poses with an arsenal of poisonous plants, as if she’s already slipped their venom into your tea.*
~
Apr 5, 2023
Apr 5, 2023 at 12:17 PM UTC
*are you my lover
in a dark heaven
come to me my beloved
kneel at my feet
naked
as i penetrate your veil
that shrouds cryptic ravenous ardor
and ask of me
your hearts desire
dissolution you say
that i may be eternal
for loves sake
bowing at the knees
as you tremulously brush and sweep your fragrant hair
over my thighs
and run your pink tongue across
my butter filled velvet sheath
our kisses will be born over and over again
a spinning ring of desire
are there not the debts of love
will you promise not to anguish to much
as one harm heaps upon another
you swear to give yourself fully
thrill to kisses crepuscular
aching to be bitten and bitten
and bitten through
your scent
blood perfume
everything about you excites me
long stretches in a stained white gown
wet summer fruit
and spilling seed
your body filled with waters mellifluent
and lush
yield unto me
you are a titillating voluptuous awe
Palisades
of wild torments
dancing on a floor
that melts scorched feet
from
hallucinations invisible shadows
of burning witches ************
sweet girl incandescent
brooding
ridge pole bending
throat swollen parched
crude hair pulling
Medusa vipers in the grip of a god fist
loving you
with a hard drubbing
your all squeals and caresses
stay with me through the long night
of tender kisses and worship
and then prepare for release to paradise
shall it be fast
spiraling
will you spread wide
and plead
for all and more
what does it matter
fluttering with wild abandon
in the temple of rituals dark
to see you writhe
inviting ruin
we are a party of hydras
writing in blood and thunder
in the book of wonders
our hungers endless
Gods and Devils
thrill to our theater
of mortal coils unraveled
in the thick torture tuileries
of Dark Heaven*
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
Naked and exposed; an innermost toast to the titillating desires of a delicious and composed lass immersed with dashing class
The ardent crowd willingly drowns in momentary ecstasy as the divine nature emitting from an aesthetic and cultivated queen oozes with opalescent essence and awakens the collective effervescence
Maintaining dignified silence with poise and grace; the exemplary life of an uncommonly bright goddess illuminates the room and ignites the exceptional effulgence of the moon.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
In experience you have learned
which tunnel to explore.
You enter this
tunnel for promises of
"gold and precious things!".
But this promise
did not enter through ear;
but thoracic permeation
Well prepared having
spelunk'ed before;
light- your pack
light- in hand.
Climbing, scrounging to escape
the tight entrance with
jagged rocks and false paths
it's many turns and falls-
although you cannot keep
your flashlight straight
experience triumphs, as in
a maze done quickly
once done before.
One strong pull
emerging through;
cave's pupil dilates.
Ground so smooth and wet
though wise to walk
we tend to slide
why?
Faster to the gold
Faster for exhilaration
Faster because faster!
and... why not?
hitting rough spots mid-slide
pain in debt to speed.
You let your feet
gain some tract
as the tunnel
narrows
Solomatic mind; without
doubt- body complies.
A slight gust tickles
but this tunnel is not through...
Alas! A shining shimmer is seen!
The earth is rough
to navigate
difficult; (but shimmers numb the sense)
pain soon saturates and stops your
smallest movement, heartbeat, fidget,
thought... The light is moving near?
As tunnels break space and time
and especially direction
feel as though you've lifted up
and the cave, the light, and all
rushes to you.
The sound of breathing relocates,
oh, yes that's you.
gun to back, hostage of Aphrodite
running, sprinting, breathless
you seek this precious shimmer
soon to realize it's coming
faster, harder, alarming to
you.
Looking ahead-
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap
the sound the light bequeaths
not from ten feet but maybe
five, you realize it's you
heavy- pack
heavy- darkness follows
sprinting, pushing through.
And the entrance could not be any farther.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Tossing the pigskin
Burrowing and displaying the Ostrich effect
All applause for the chairman of the board of trustees
And all the spiddle on his back up shirt
Mortify them
An incomplete pass
Rally the troops
For unfinished business
Shift gears
Reread the post script
"P.S. The unzipped flies of store owners trying to replicate the success of their fathers. Piddle about, play with implements of torture, instruments of destruction. Wander in the wilderness, grunt and sigh as your civilized brain rattles. Make way for Plan B, and fill out the forms in triplicate. Fumbling at the controls, emergency landing. The gear shift and crankshaft have given out. Listen to the titillating chatter of the disappointed passengers who all longed for the window seat.
Always your's
Edmund Balthazar "
Take two
I could slap you
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC