"underware" poems
Babylon Sisters
one of them is blonde
the other one a redhead
but both are very fond
of fine liquor and giving head
their painted lips and coiffured hair
finely dressed to the nines
you can take them anywhere
snorting coke and sipping wines
they will spend your dough
and let you touch them everywhere
but upfront they will let you know
it will cost to remove their underware
they are ladies of the evening
finest of the maidens fine
not interested in a wedding ring
just lustful *** time after time
they remind one of times gone past
ancient world of love and fun
so beautiful and fast
**** sisters of Babylon
Gomer Lepoet...
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
Maphrodite's Child
I am no greek goddess of love
neither am I a god
not quite sure how I got this way
maybe eating too much scrod
I like wearing frilly things
I also like to fight
owner of many golden rings
I'll kick your *** for spite
am I this or am I that
I do not really know
like a ****** I am fat
but some call me a **
I have no dangling participle
nor have I glove of fur
nothing to yank or dip into
yet my emotions stir
I might take an operation
to see how it would be
I'm leaning toward a manly man
have an add-a-dick-to-me
but I'll still wear my flowered skirts
and lacy underware like this
but when I'm out with the boys
I can stand and take a ****
yes I will be a legend
a kick *** girl gone wild
people will stand and point at me
there goes maphrodite's child
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 3:49 AM UTC
I wish I was not standing here on this bus,
Where the crowd is so thick and the people do fuss.
For in pain right now, I am, you see.
And all alone, I wish to be.
'Cause all of the pain is deep in my gut.
And the only relief is out of my ****
Just a little relief , I hope to measure,
From a small release of some of this pressure,
No one should notice, there are so many here.
So I'll relax a little and open my rear.
Oops! Oh no! That's not just gas!
It's way thicker and sticks to my ***
Uh oh! Wait a minute! This is not right!
I can't stop the flow! C'mon **** get tight!
It doesn't matter how hard I try,
I can't seem to stop it! I don't know why!
Soon, surely, someone will notice a smell.
A funky odor that has come to dwell.
It's getting worse 'cause my underware's full!
And now down my legs, the stuff starts to roll.
A puddle now forms at my feet on the floor.
Oh my gosh! Where is the door?!
But it's too late and it really shows,
I'm having problems, so's everyones nose.
They all start gagging and yelling "P-U!!"
"Who is the idiot that passed that poo!!"
And just as the flow finally does stop,
Down the aisle comes an off duty cop.
"Hey!" He exclaimed. "What's wrong with you!?"
"You can't just stand there and take a poo!"
"I'm sorry sir!" I tried to explain.
"I was having extreme abdominal pain!"
"I thought I could vent a little gas,"
"When out of my **** this liquid did pass!"
"I wanted to stop it!" I said as I cried.
"It just kept on comming, no matter how hard I tried!"
And as I stood weeping because of my shame,
All of the people, to my aid came.
They all gave me tissues and one guy a mop.
So I took them all and started to sop.
By the time I was home, I had cleaned it all up.
And,thankfully,did it without throwing up.
I thanked everyone and apologized.
And from then on I realized
That if you're on a bus and have to pass gas,
Make sure you have kleenex to cover your ***
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
Like a solemn
blossom,
he makes his appearance,
this hindrance,
in my rooftop,
with a flip-flop,
in cherubic
outfit,
oh so tiny
and limy!
This perplexing
cherubim, mixing
beams and a pigment
from a distant
perfection,
shouts 'action!',
up on my rooftop!
I climb the immense
leather
in my underware
- oh what a brilliance
of a ****
homemade!
I say 'salutations,
in this christmas' occasion!',
he moves backward,
the makeshift,
and then forward,
in his heart a lift,
engorged,
in my beauty scorched!
As his host
I had started a toast
but went speachless
finding him flightless,
for a wingless cherubim
was he...!
But it's Christmas,
so in ranges
we had some oranges
and tequila,
for pain healer.
On my rooftop
as a isthmus,
oh gods of Olympus!,
we hear a pop,
a cackle,
stars as sprinkles
of kringles!
- Oh oh, is it Santa?!
- Oh no, it's my Claus...!
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
You know poetry is like standing naked on a busy street. But in a way it's very freeing. I don't share my poetry with my freinds and family. I guess I'm kinda scared to know just what they'd think. It's kind of like my ***** little secret. Things I would never talk about in real life, I can lay to rest on paper. Well that is if I can get to a peice of paper before I forget what's in my head. That happens quite often, but what can you do. I am well into my fifteys, and have the attention span of a nat. I think that's what I want to say. I'm not quite sure how long a nats attention span is. Come to think about it nats can be pretty anoying. God I hope I'm not anoying. Oh well what was I saying? Hey, can I get kicked off this site for aimlessly wandering through other peoples minds? Oh, back to the point. I do think I have one. POETRY is kinda like walking up to someone on the street and asking," Do you like my underware?".... Dam, I burnt the cookies.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
Hello ***** underware that I refused to change.
Sixteen days is just a bit beyond your wearing range.
Poor overworn underware, How crusty you are! Wow!
You've stiffened up overnight. I ought to wash you now.
You look like that, maybe, you have seen some better days.
There's a long , brown streak down your back and in front a yellow place.
There's a grey deposit, where my two boys were at.
And something else, I know not what, between the brown and that.
The aroma that exudes from you is quite beyond belief.
It smalls far worse than a fetid corps, and came from me? Good grief!
So come now overworn underware. Into the wash you'll go.
I've added extra bleach so the stuff on you won't grow.
In the soapy water, the crust will disappear.
And out you'll come, white like new, with nothing else to fear.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 2:16 PM UTC
it's heels to heaven
when you fall on your face
heels to heaven
when you livin fast paced
with her legs in the air
she's heels to heaven right there
got her heels to heaven
draped in pink underware
when her fierce moans find god
it's heels to heaven for shore
when you leave 'fore she wakes
it's heels to heaven once more
livin on borrowed times'
heels to heaven i know
with death hot on your trail
just one speed you can go
when the cops snap on them cuffs
heels to heaven ain't fun
bustin through prison walls
heels to heaven must run
when life's worth dyin for
heels to heaven means war
but when we make love
it's heels to heaven encore
it's heels to heaven
in the tequila sunrise
just like heels to heaven
as she spreads them thick thighs
got my heels to heaven
when i go to cop
heels to heaven
when i know i can't stop
heels to heaven
and i'll never get well
with my heels to heaven
RUNNIN STRAIGHT INTO HELL...
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
I saw myself, just yesterday
sitting on a roadside rock
contemplating this and that
What was once skinny
now seems fat.
What once was mouse
now is rat.
Doors once open,
swinging,
now have locks
Looks like dog packs
sounds like *****
inside outside underware
Hawking mudpies at
the County Fair.
Thoughts so thick, I yank my hair.
Suddenly frozen. I sit and stare
days, weeks pass. "was that a knock?"
I find my wrist.
A strapped on clock?
I see the lie-ing hand spin round
moon rises, sun rises, make a loud sound
what was lost, remains un-unfound
what was valley, now is a mound
Big toe rooting,
ventilated sox
both shoes missing, cardboard box.
Suddenly, It's today
at last!
Debris surrounds me. Shattered masks?
Stomach empty? Methusela fast.
No more future, no more past.
Large ships!
Arriving, at the docks.
Time goes crazy,
when there are
no more tocs.
A lovely world of only tics.
no more stealing,
no more tricks
no more soft talk,
no more big sticks
It's raining gold,
no axes no picks
chickens sleeping
with the fox-es
Un coveting of the neighbor's ox-s.
And his gougeous
brick house wife
and his so called
perfect life
Dict. : Deleting
words like strife
dancing to ditties
from a fife
Wearin fine hats shaped
like a Chinese Wok
sittin alone on a roadside rock.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
Open up your english books and one day I'll be there...
This ***** headed boi who use to *** in his underware...
Just to say they were mine...
Well know im ****** on time...
So soon i will be history..
more then just a memory..
hosnestly...
I wont die before this prophecy...
Listening??
Understand this is more then just a destiny..
this write these words it is what makes me...
Defining...
Momments that you all will see..
so just stand up and follow me...
I saw a vision in my dream...
and all of us were kings and queens...
So start now, and put this in qoutation..
"I had a dream and all of us were Kings and Queens"
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
Little pile of fur lying in the road,
What kind of debt could you have possibly owed?
To find yourself now in such a horrid state.
Your little life ending in this terrible fate.
Sitting quietly on that exact spot,
Slow cooked by the sun as on the road you rot.
Maggots now feed slowly on what little bit is left.
Your skin and your bones now of flesh bereft.
Your last moments spent trying to cross a road,
Where an eighteen wheeler sped with a twenty ton load.
Headlights bearing down on you, oh so all alone,
Rubber tires hitting you harder than a stone.
Frozen in the light, you were terrified,
And in a split second becoming liquified.
A little bag of skin that suddenly got popped.
Like a water baloon after having been dropped.
Your guts and stuff splattered everywhere.
The only things left, skin, bones and some hair.
Buzzards and crows now begin to feed,
On a ****** gut shake, yum indeed.
Soon nothing of you will remain,
But a brownish, greyish sort of stain.
Poor little road **** didn't have a chance,
Guess you should have taken a second glance.
Before you crossed that road without a care,
You might not now resemble the stain in my underware.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
You took more then you'll ever know
Everyday it crosses my mnd
I hope it will get better with time But I still see it in my mind
If im honest
It means I lied
Being 6 years old
How was I post to know
19 years
Before I relized it wasnt fair
See I was just a kid with messy hair
You told me to pull down my underware
It wasnt just you
And i wish it wasnt true
I was taken advantage of even after you
Sick to my stomach
I couldnt hold it
Crying all night
Putting up a fight
Didnt want to close my eyes
Just incase it was you I saw tonight
This feeling Im feeling isnt right
I hope one day I can sleep threw the night
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
The blackness of everything
Falls away.
Decay
Decaying.
No looking back.
You should have stayed.
Naked.
Bare.
Strip down to your nonexistent
Underware.
Flesh only lasts til the sun comes up.
Stare into my eyes
And you'll find
Nothing.
Emptiness consumes me
From the inside
Out.
Get out of my mind.
I'm ******* dead
Inside.
If only I had the strength
To take my life.
I would.
In a heartbeat.
A moment in time.
No thoughts resonate
Don't hesitste.
Just **** off.
Break my ******* spine.
You'll always be mine.
Suffocate me.
Make me beg.
Make me feel.
More.
I feel nothing
All of the time.
Hurt me.
Make me rhyme.
The rythmic
Movement of
Two bodies entwined.
The darkness inside.
The black hole of life.
**** feeling.
Always stuck
Repeating time.
Fast forward
And stop.
Or just pause
On replay.
Why didn't you stay?
Why the **** didn't you stay?
I give up.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
Winding staircases
leading to nowhere.
Ugly faces from high school
surrounding me
taunting me,
while I shiver in my underware.
I was spinning and falling,
yet never hitting bottom.
There were telephone conversations
with Cathy.
so clear
I could hear
every word...
as if she never passed.
Tick tick tick
that hideous tick.
In sync
with all my anxieties.
Sweet dreams replaced
with cigarettes
and a cold kitchen floor.
Three a.m. worries
slowly joining up
with the buzz buzz
buzz
signal to the never ending morning
a prison sentence
of daytime.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
Humpty Dumpty dinosaur
Cabbage intervention
Pomegranate superman
Cat combustion engine
Floribunda mermaid sock
Tulip nuts crab apple
Dingo sausage metaphor
Peanuts wedding chapel
Rabbit bacon octopus
Toadstool hair satsuma
Weasel carrot gristle flag
Timone simba pumba
Purple chicken nugget sauce
Generic baby boomer
Zebra armpit underware
Butterfly harpooner
***** pickle under pants
Worm negotiator
Windy beansprout sausage dog
Cardboard Rotavator
Hairy ice cream body *****
Juicy **** denial
Otter baby gusset lunch
Autopsy free trial
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 3:55 PM UTC