"viagra" poems
Adult ABC
A is for *******
B is for *****
C is for **** hole
D is for ****
E is for everything that you are
and
F is for **** off
G is for Gory holes
H is for hemerroid
I is for invulents
J is for *******
K fly a kite
L is a loser
M is for moist
N is for nuts
O is obscured in your
P *****
Q is for *****
R is for the Reassurance that you need
S is for ****
T is for ****
U is for Underwear
and
V is for ******
W is for wort and
X is for ***
Y now You know your life is full of
Z zest
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 10:35 PM UTC
Juicy, sweet, hot chocolate skin...black girls are black goddess
**** black girls For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulattoes. Sweet brown chocolate color. And inviting, savoryly pure black-sugar skin color. This is the most delicious, beautiful, sweet candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a pastry shop when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get her children from her, and live with only one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her alone. Your life will be the sweetest. Skin of black color and color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. The skin of dark-skinned girls seems to be radiating the heat of *** burning sweet, sensual passion, this color of temptation, attraction. There are drums of ethnic, traditional music, it's the sound of *** . The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ******
The skin of black and dark chocolate is the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion.
The women of three races are beautiful: the sultry, torrid, hot chocolate of hot passion of the deep passion of black fire of love and *** a paradise oasis of tenderness of the east, and snow-white, sensual pearls.
For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American girls and women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulatto. Sweet brown chocolate color. And alluring, relish pure black sugar color of skin. This is the most delicious, beautiful, cute candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a candy store when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get children from her, and you will live only with one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her. Your life will be the sweetest.
Your skin is the color of one hot, unforgettable night, your libido is the word lava in your hot body, burning passion, only your photos can excite me, only your beauty turns off my brains, you have a **** ****** tune in my head, you are like a hot bath after a hard of the day, like an ****** massage, like a soft pillow with sleeping softness.
Dark skin
The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ******
The skin is black and the color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion.
Dark-skinned beauties are a deep passion of black fire - this is a hot safari, a wild savannah, an exotic havana.
My new love poem, i hope you will like it.
For my dear light brown girls
Captivating honey caramel is like a shining dawn, life with you is like a sweet ****** dream. Juicy sweet fabulous fantasy beautiful. From your sexuality, the glasses of the captured ****** force in your eyes are sweating, this is the amazing magic of charm concealed in them. You are my depraved temptation ***** temptation. The sweet temptation of a tenderly roaring passion is a breathtaking juicy caramel berry, sometimes pouring with a picturesque modulation, tender sensual shades of red sunset, incinerated with the burning heat of passion. From your hottest, sultry beauty, the brain seems to turn off and faint from your sweetest kisses.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 12:56 AM 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
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
**technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.**
This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.
Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"
Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.
Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.
She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.
IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.
He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.
But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.
Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******
She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:
**You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,**
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.
Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
Drug Addict
I drink beer, I drink liquor,
doing shots makes it quicker.
I smoke a bowl, I smoke a joint,
is there a problem, get to the point.
I take acid, I like trip,
I love the trail of a moving whip.
I like ****** sugar, I snort coke,
no wonder, I'm so **** broke.
I pop pills for stress, some for pain,
you'll never hear me complain.
I shoot ****** then I dose off,
my life is just a total loss.
I make and smoke ****
hoping it takes my last breath.
Special K is my favorite tranquilizer,
I use it as a drug appetizer.
I smoke crack, don't ask why,
don't knock it, til you try.
Ecstasy makes me feel so good,
it always puts me in a special mood.
I sniff gas, I sniff glue,
then I ask, who are you.
Sometimes I smoke hash,
I live a life of white trash.
Morphine can't be beat,
my brain has suffered a defeat.
I even take ****** and steroids,
***** big, ***** small and I'm paranoid.
Been to counselling, been to rehab,
last time I went, I ended up with *****
Now finally, I'm clean and sober,
been that way since mid October.
I admit drugs are more fun,
but in the end, God finally won.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Now that you're older
It's not about hair,
Consider the here and now;
There's no fooling with the passage of time,
Birthdays now greeted with whimpers and whines.
If you stay out til quarter to nine
You've missed your Red Rose pour.
Should we commit you,
Or simply omit you,
Man, you're sixty-four.
....................................................
We're getting older too,
But if the truth be told,
Never as old as you.
Now you can't frolic,
Or party til two,
You aches and pains own you.
Scan your body daily for foreign lumps,
By mid-afternoon you still haven't dumped.
Bladder in turmoil,
Kidneys are weak,
I could mention more:
All your joints creaking,
I think that's you leaking,
Man, you're sixty-four.
Always depend upon your diaper to conceal and not reveal
What you drank and ate.
We'll leave that with you.
And carry ID, Jake,
You'll forget you're you.
Make use of posties,
And Mary-Jo too,
What's old may now seem new;
Indicate precisely what you'll do and say,
Memory's surely slipping away.
You're still an alpha, thanks to ******
Don't expect much more.
Should we just boot you,
Or simply just shoot you,
Man, you're sixty-four.
Seventy-four's at the door.
A thousand weeks til eighty-four.
At ninety-four get ten more....
In good health.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC
This is the House That Lies Built
Copyright © 2013
By Erika Whitmore
This is the house that Lies built.
This is the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is his Greed that fueled the Lust
That drove the “Man” that lay in the house that Lies built.
This is the Loyal Woman that Got in the Way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is the Urge to fill his lascivious Needs
So he dumped the Loyal Woman that got in the Way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is the “Maiden” all forlorn
Who ignited his Urge to fill his lascivious needs
So he dumped the Loyal Woman that got in the way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is the “Man” all tattered and torn
That f*cked the “Maiden” all forlorn
Who ignited his Urge to fill his lascivious Needs
So he dumped the Loyal Woman that got in the Way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is his Addiction to women and ****
That ******* the “Man” all tattered and torn
That f*cked the “Maiden” all forlorn
Who ignited his Urge to fill his lascivious Needs
So he dumped the Loyal Woman that got in the Way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is the **** that crows in the morn
That shone light on his Addiction to women and ****
That ******* the “Man” all tattered and torn
That f*cked the “Maiden” all forlorn
Who ignited his Urge to fill his lascivious Needs
So he dumped the Loyal Woman that got in the Way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
This is the ****** for the ******** he mourns
Which now keeps the **** up that crows in the morn
That shone the light on his Addiction to women and ****
That ******* the “Man” all tattered and torn
That f*cked the “Maiden” all forlorn
Who ignited his Urge to fill his lascivious Needs
So he dumped the Loyal Woman that got in the Way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
These are the Memories of those who loved him, whom he has scorned,
And traded in for ****** and the ******** he mourns
Just to dwell on the **** that crows in the morn
That shone the light on his Addiction to women and ****
That ******* the “Man” all tattered and torn
That f*cked the “Maiden” all forlorn
Who ignited his Urge to fill his lascivious Needs
So he dumped the Loyal Woman that got in the Way of his Greed
That killed the Lust that drove the “Man”
That lay in the house that Lies built.
###
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
I’ve O’D’d on Glucosamine Sulphate, so much I’m mentally scarred.
It’s escalated now I’m 70… I’ve mainlined on my Senior Railcard…
I bow down to the Norse God Voltarol… He eases all my pains…
and there’s Deep Heat, Germaloids, even Anusol for the other stresses and strains.
The wondrous Winter Fuel Allowance! That’s what lights our lamp these dark days - ahh, those twilight hours!
But after the logs, it’s not Leccy or Gas we crave? No! We buy ***** with ours…
the Whisky, Gin, ***** Wine, a drop of Brandy too. It all helps us numb the cold
whilst memories of happier times gone by - brighten up this ****** growing old.
Supplements, sterols, statins, aspirin, beta blockers… All the heart meds - life’s a battle.
In the 60s it was *** and Drugs and Rock ’n’ Roll… Now there’s less *** and a lot more rattle!
****** fails to make it now - “no more”, after the last time - she said!
These days the only thing it does is stop me rolling out of bed!
The bus pass lets me roam the world… from John O’Groats to Land’s End.
But these days I travel locally Southwick, Lancing, Steyning; oh yeh and a cousin in far Gravesend.
Further afield; abroad perhaps? Well no…Back then it was Newhaven for the Continent.
But now I’m over 70, well, it’ll just be Worthing for the INCONTINENT!
And… did I say? Not that I was ever in the habit of measuring it you understand - or straightening out the kinks
I’m pretty sure that these days - and ’no’ it’s NOT just the cold… but, your once adequate **** - it shrinks!
I'm sorry...Your ******* It ain't so long!
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
The pharmacist is not your friend
He may put you up in a high hotel
With slip streams of ****** pills
Paxil and Wellbutrin
Designed to defeat depression
To facilitate a fog like
Fugues of perfected moods
With drugs made to create
The perfect drone state
So you can pay your bills
So you can **** and sleep well
So you can keep your health
But it is poison
Kidney killing swill
And while you are under the influence
Perfectly sedated so you forget how to feel
One hand is in your pocket
Thinning your wallet draining dollar bills
While the other hand holds your heart
Crushing what is left of your already weakened will
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
Off she went all dressed up to meet the guy she swiped left upon.
Five feet 10 his profile said but that's where all the lies began!
In she walked in her killer heels, eyes wide and bright to look for him.
But not a sign of him to see had he stood her up? How dare he!
Then at the bar worst for wear she saw his face and balding head.
How had he aged so much, so soon from the photos that made her swoon.
Well the truth aired and shots were fired, Napoleon's descendant had clearly lied!
The CEO of a successful business would be up at 5 for the newspaper deliveries.
His holiday home was a caravan, in the **** of Wales where no one went.
His hair had gone south long ago and his belly was chasing it now as well.
But in all of this, had she lied? Was she 48 or 55?
Had those lips been rendered too? With botox and the wrinkles smoothed.
At 48 or 55 that dress had some riples inside.
The parts Spanx can't control, where age and love handles roll.
She stayed they drank. Then drank again and laughed and talked of other things.
They danced made shapes for all to see like watching a form of epilepsy.
They left at one her shoes in hand, holes in her tights, lipstick smeared upon his cheek and a room to find to seal the deal.
Promises made to meet again and drink and dance and meet their friends.
Next week he was sat at the very same bar, watching the door for her enterance!
She? Oh no, nowhere to be seen. Across the town at another scene. This time an accountant, chartered too!
But we all know it isn't true.
Fairytale endings nowhere to be seen. Just nights of ****** and living the dream.
All in all is this all that they want? Repeating the cycle over again.
With another fool in fancy dress?
Viewed from the bottom of an empty glass.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
Stunt ****
He can be your lover lady, ima be your stunt **** He can be your boyfriend mommy, ima be your stunt **** He can be your husband **** ima be your stunt **** stunt **** fluid swap, yep when them ******* drop. Lights, camera, action ,I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Lights camera, action, I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Ima be your stunt **** girl and beat it up, yep ima beat it up, that man there can eat it up. We don’t need no scrip for this act or no monolog, you can adlib, improvise on my microphone. We can do the box spring boogie all night long, we can get ***** coz play like its Comic Con. Tag your girlfriend in, we can do a menajahtwa , pile drive that nannie, Macho Man Wrestle Mania. Petting that ***** Doctor Claw, go go gadget pennies, working your equation *** notation like a mad genius. If I nut prematurely , don’t you worry I got ****** it’s not superman, but stuntman with all the stamina, Ima beat it up like Van Dam at the Comitia ,finger, lick and kiss each other while I ********* It’s ocean spray ,whale watching like in Monterrey.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
wont be long before shes blowing trumps trumpet
***** little cuntservertive strumpet
armageddons coming unelected to the ball
this ******* party is going to drown us all
military fluffers for when the going gets tough
were all going **** diving and its going to be rough
all the ****** in the universe couldnt help me get it up
for our new prime sinister and its new world ******
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
Party At The Old Age Home
Hello today and how are you,
feeling better, now that we're through.
Things are starting to improve,
feeling that single life groove.
A new girl every single week,
you'd think I was in my ****** peak.
Would you believe, I'm eighty two,
****** is the thing I do.
I get blow jobs with just gum,
these old ladies **** it like a Tum.
I just pop a pill and off I go,
an ****** old folks home show.
Having ****** in my room,
even the nurses jump on my tomb.
Not sure how long my heart will last,
who cares every night I have a blast.
My ***** hang down to my knees,
these old women keep begging please.
Before *** I remove the cobwebs,
I've partied in each of their beds.
They say my heart attack was inevitable,
my golden years were so incredible.
My casket was covered in ******* and flowers,
it was nice being that hard for many hours.
Glad me and the wife had that fight,
I became a ****** out of spite.
Saggy **** had me beguiled,
it was like old girls gone wild.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
the doctor cautioned me…
no rough S?x my boy, your coeur très ancien,
ain’t up to the task, in fact, i urge you to forgo
the goings on you love to write about, leave them
words on the page, six to eight inches (!) from the
tippy part of your…nose; for distance makes the heart
grow fonder, life longer, when you ticker gets that
‘lost that loving feeling’, keep it lost for now, cause
I no longer make home visitations and cancelled,
I did, the refills on your ****** scrip, keep your loving
confined to the twenty six alpa-bets, so you grow
old, well, alive, cursing my name repeatedly with
a strong God **** and I’m sure He’ll be listening,
cause I know He appreciates a **** good poem!
Jul 20, 2023
Jul 20, 2023 at 8:48 AM UTC
i am a woman who hasn't gotten over her girlhood strifes. i am alive in conflict & chaos; when storms still i tremble. i struggle with questions of my own importance. if i am your leaning post, why do i feel so alone? i am one ocean with many seas, rivers, harbours & waterfalls - each with their own names. i am not of this realm, yet my father calls me worldly. i struggle with questions of my own identity. if everyone sees me as one solid being, why do i feel so broken? i am a lover of opposites, of balanced scales, of reflections: black & white, girls & boys, sea & sky, everything & nothing, always & never. the sometimes, the somewhat, the earth, transvestites, grey zones: they don't sit well with me. & yet i am spokesperson for the exceptions (i before e, except after c. using drugs to have *** with people is assault, except for ****** i only like to write with black pens, except when I want to use a pencil. i only drink black coffee, except when I crave a double-double. i only **** girls, except when i need a **** each girl has her own firm resolve, that is contradicted with another's opinions: my whole existence is self-hypocrisy. i struggle with questions of conflicts in my own interest. if i am decided, why do i peer with longing at the other options? i am a planner, an organizer, a sorter: i put my problems in piles. i am erratic, scatterbrained & impulsive. i use my abilities to try to outsmart my destructive tendencies; to try & balance the scales. my flighty adventures often win over my obsessive habits. i struggle with questions of my own intent. if i am scared of commitment, why do i keep promising?
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Whilst we destroy what we are,
Another’s suffering does nothing,
Nothing at all to alleviate our pain.
That we in the west live in luxury,
Does nothing either: why should it?
We are spawned from choice,
Conceived via free will, and ******
Dropped into a cradle of filth,
Finally crawling, learning to hate,
Not knowing why, nobody knows why,
Well do they? Do they?
Emerging and ready to die, yes,
Already damaged and broken,
Bereft of the truth of life, sick,
Perishing lost and alone, uncaring,
We the ****** misunderstood,
Chastised, ‘we never had it so good?’
We who inherited the earth, yeah,
We have it good, no struggle, none!
And therein lies our issues, true,
We have no need to fight, have we?
So, we fight ourselves, cutting,
And we live to cause suffering,
Our own agony screamed wildly!
Go on, frown, older generation,
Go on, you know you want to.
Call us, shake your wise heads,
Whilst we destroy what we are.
©Paul M Chafer 2015
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
The topic for today's selection
Is how to deal with your ********
The price is high to get a thrill
But, it comes in a small blue pill
If your private will not shoot
Or, your soldier won't salute
There's an answer from a lab
That comes to you in a small blue tab
If you have poor self esteem
This pill could just fulfill your dreams
If your pecker seems to wilt
This will give your kilt a tilt.
So, if your manhood is slightly flaccid
Like the waters of Lake Placid
One small pill will make a diff
It won't take long and you'll be stiff
It works deep down on your projection
And points it in the right direction
It helps the package in your trousers
And makes the women all say "wowsers!"
They tried a cream, now that is gone
They couldn't get their work gloves on
They say it works and really fast
And helps to make your love life last
Your girl will love it, that's the goal
For now you've got a brand new pole
Dr. Frankenstein, he brought life
But, no excitement for his wife
She wanted more than he could give
The Doctor's "Monster" didn't live
They say don't drink it with a beer
The side effects are ones I fear
They say that if your BP drops
There's chances that your heart could stop
And should it last for say....4 hours
You should take some cold, cold, showers
Then, if it's still petrified,
I guess...go take it for a ride
Apparently, when it's like this
It makes it really hard to ****
But, if this pill should make it stand
Don't go waste it in your hand
Don't buy generic, at least not yet
For there's no telling what you'll get
It may stand up, it may lay down
It might just turn a dark, dark brown
Remember, it's to give you pride
And make your smile ten feet wide
It's not to ask "what's in my pocket"
"Well, dear it's shaped like a rocket"
It's something to improve your life
And return enjoyment to your wife
For now that she knows this stuff works
You won't be wasting it on jerks
You'll be home where there's no pressure
And having *** at your own leisure
So now, I'll end with some advice
And I don't want to have to tell you twice
The next time you go to NIagra
Take along a few ******
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
If older women seeking youthful men are cougars according to some.
Then older men are hunters seeking youthful women to energize them.
Which isn't to be confused with a predator.
One seeking physical emotional comfort.
While the other seeking intimate needs before taking ******
You know the little blue pill that males of age brags upon.
The man like a lion seeking his next meal.
Notice the money many older males uses to attract them.
Buying them gifts of various kinds to please them.
But the cougar seekers that want male candy upon their arm.
Fall for many with endurance to satisfy them.
Bringing out that late nature of desires that been held back for many years.
Strange to say, many of us probably know people like them.
Who we could name in a moment notice?
The Hunter.
The Cougar.
Really, there's no differences between them.
They both seeking various things to keep them pleased.
The Cougar.
The Hunter.
Who only searching for thrills?
While we go only just a judging them.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
I drop to my knees.
I keel over, coming hard.
My **** in your mouth;
My throbbing **** in both your palms,
I sink calmly into oblivion,
The happy ending devoutly to be wished,
For any ******* worth its salt,
What most matters to draftees of the Legion,
Roman plebeians applying most of their salary
To local honey BJs.
Salt: the poor man’s ******
Go ahead sacrifice my life for Rome,
Waste me in Gaul or Britannia,
**** me away for the Empire,
Exploit my wives,
Demean my offspring prostitutes.
But, please,
Just leave me my *** and TV,
Free Velveeta and Obama-Care.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Peace! God’s Peace upon you all! The Bishop blessed
The dyed-young congregation: dyed fathers ‘n mothers,
Grandpas ‘n grannies, great-grandpas and great-grannies.
The demons of decadence--Hair dye, ****** and Spirits –
Chuckled and giggled, crouching well under the pulpit.
Dyed gurus ‘n financiers, dyed lawyers, doctors n’ nurses,
****** entrepreneurs and ****** entertainers, dyed judges
Dyed ‘n spirited evangelists, priests and vergers on ******
Peace be upon thee all! Blessed the Bishop from the pulpit.
Now, the demons in the hiding iterated and reiterated it.
A Sunday spirited chat—all smiles! -- in the church portico:
The Viagra-dyed banker in later life smiled a dyed smile
At the elderly dyed mother of three; and she said: they say,
In spite of my age, you know, I look so young and pretty!
And the thick flanks under her chin jiggled in approbation.
The ****** great-grandpa said to the dyed Justice of spirits:
Milord, they say: “The stuff brings cancer;” Fools! Idiots!
“The gloves—the condom-like device—that’s our safety!”
“Milord! This trinity wizard, they bring a million crores
To the exchequer of this famished democracy, milord!”
“Milord! The nature lovers say, we wash billions of bottles
Of these magic stuffs into their rivers and the seas, milord!”
“They say we all-- dyed ****** men-- are sissies and doofuses!”
“Milord! Our tubby women dye young, lest they’d be labelled
Mammy, Granny, Grandma, Old Granny, the decrepit ‘n that!
Now, the dyed media reported: father mated with his daughter,
Mother with a teenager, grandpa with an infant; and Ministers,
MLAs, MPs—all spirits-Viagra-dyed-- are in a ******* spree!
Now the Dark Trinity cried “Wow! In this world of ******
The Kingdom, the Power and the Glory--all are ours! Amen!
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
we took the long way
to Hadley and MacFadden, goin' about twenty-five in twenty-six ways...
twelve sheets to the wind at a cosmic chili banquet. we wove through the tambourines and headlights -
cruising through the pinch in the grid, on the Eastside. where Margret hustles feathers from very still pigeons, and Mosley, that little runt Mosley conquered Connie Haskel's Willow Tree in the backyard.
we were coming up on something special in our Hometown
but we were low on gas, and had just bought Beer.
this scenario was on repeat. night after night in the sultry debauch of a languid stroll in a couch rocket.
glaring at the skirts on Perkins and 5th, that eat seaweed and cough drops.
they're so hot you just wanna drive a better car.
we used to park -
at Todd's Mom's and walk to the Slaughtered Hog and order a rack O' ribs and drink moonshine, smokin' that **** and sitting next to ****** jockeys in jogging suits and headbands that say " i sweat profusely, when I want too. "
And Carmen What'sHerName? used to get our table 'cause i figured out the location of her section.
she would smile and bring pecan pie
and flash those eyes that said " i'm off in an hour " . we sang to Muzak - and
left our To-Go Boxes at the table; stumbling through the lot
fumbling for the keys to the TARDIS.
and thinking about Carmen.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
I keep fondling dreams as I
flip through FOX, CNN and MSNBC networks.
An electric lady land fantasy
of revolutions where over and over and
under and through inconsistent gibberish of
conservative conversationalists’ and
liberal libel is taken for truth.
My heart is pumping out toxic fiber optic
editorial journalistic pollution like kidneys
secrete the habit of alcohol and
cigarette poisons.
Our dependence on government help is
broken glass shards ruining the
veins of society
while Limbaugh, and spring chicken heads with a
View are enslaving our voices and
limiting the truth of our choices using
eminent domain for our minds as they spit out
their opinions through television and radio
frequencies into our brain waves as truth.
How some American hearts stay warm with
nightly news schisms, burning intolerance,
unreal realism, religious sincerity posed
and limp **** ****** commercials
is amazing. But still a paradox hoax.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 3:15 AM UTC
All the world's a *********
And all the lads and ladettes mere defecators,
Gratifying oozing exits and entrances;
And one man perforce enacts too many roles,
His acts being seven deaths. D'abord, the baby,
******** and ******* on his mummy's frock.
Then, the errant truant with his rucksack
And pock-marked wanker's face, creeping like death
Foul-trouser'dly to school. Next a teenager,
Panting like mad dog, with an oozing pustule
Dripping oe'r his girlfriend's pubics. Then a hoodie,
Full of strange oaths, and dressed up like a freak,
Lacking in honour, decency, and up for aggro,
Seeking the respect of loathsome peers
Even on the street corner. And then the adult
With bulging beer belly, and ample burgers stuff'd,
With eyes dulled by unfulfilled promises,
Mortgaged to the hilt, and indebted to Visa,
And so he wastes his life. The sixth age dawns
Before he knows it, bald futility,
With ****** in pocket, five quid a pill,
His youthful hopes well fuck'd, the world too much
For his ignorance, and his vain butch rantings
Reverting soon to teenage curses, coughs
And tobacco'd wheezings. Last we see him,
Ending a pointless and useless existence,
Clutching to his piss-stained Zimmer frame,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans pension fund.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
i call my ambition, sergeant giggs... don't ask; i also call my left foot lady cantona, it's just regarding the manchester united dream team from the mid 90s.
oi! oi! that strange perfume in my garden
has come back!
i don't like it! i know i'm growing garlic
and rosemary & mint & jasmine in it,
but i'm not liking the eerie honey ****
of it, that i might liken to female genitals,
no!
**** off!
get these gnats away from me!
feed em to the bankers!
point being, if i were ever an islamic
martyr, and i'd get to the "sacred" gardens,
much akin to the hanging gardens of babylon
and i'd be like...
wait a minute, i didn't ask for solomon's
gym routine, i didn't ask for *******
gym membership scheme!
i said, i said that i wanted 72 watermelons!
who said that 72 virgins is a reward?
where are my 72 watermelons?!
i want my ******* 72 watermelons!
1 woman is enough! enough as in:
one too much!
yes, i know nature it cruel, and it proved
that by providing more women than men,
and that when an ****** hits their egos
and shatters them all hell breaks loose...
no! i didn't sign up for a gym membership!
i want my 72 watermelons!
take your virgins and shove them
into fairy-airy stories, or up my ***
how could 72 virgins ever be so appealing
as to take the lives of others?
i asked for heaven, not a gym membership...
idiots are going to be hating the notion
after a few hours:
well... gotta **** 'em all...
otherwise the ones not ****** will go straight
to king solomon, with his permanent
****** **** fusion...
just give me the 72 watermelons and ****
off with your "promises"...
i wasn't promised **** all upon
birth in this world,
but the promises of 72 virgins in the "next" world
seems more like a curse, than honey-dew;
i'd rather worm through
a library of books worth-the-reading,
than a bunch of girls: "worth-the-fuck";
well yeah, "the" oops;
muslims: monkey mentality, even after death;
me? i was imagining it as:
a brain in a pickle jar;
then again, i'd love to chat with 72 prostitutes,
gone down the train ride of waggle waggle...
plus the drinking helps...
less gym orientation mind you:
the already exhausted ***** 'elp a 'ittle.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
The scene was chaos almost like black friday at El Wallmarto.
people being pushed around by gringo's who didnt
even own a pair of spandex tights.
Or even know the glory of winning a no holds barred naked lumberjack
with a ***** splintter match.
The people needed a hero.
they screamed for the legends return please poppi
save us from the ordinary.
My amigo's were persecuted and i sat helpless traped across the boader do to a bogus lack of green card.
I must have left it in my other tights.
but once again like a old man on crystal **** and ****** the champion has returned to claim his crown.
And to shake his groove thing all over Hello once again.
With the strength of a small well shaved bear.
And the eye's of a low flying seagull I shall drop some splatters
of wisdom apon my fellow amigos.
Chips and salsa for everyone .
no longer heartbroken from my hellcat seniorita Drew
yes her bite marks i wear proudly in places I need to tan.
Let the little gringos sing like pretty little birdies
and senoiritas run through the fields like in thoose not
so fresh comercials.
Go tell amigos everywhere pour the cervesa
For El ******** Rides again.
Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 6:57 PM UTC