Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Words
"wickle" poems
Try men's souls. Provocative mind-whip how you soothe me. I scorn modern poetry...not because it is truly bad or truly good. It just makes me feel as if my pores are ever-expanding with clicking, skittering, masses of insects. Black shiny minuscule monstrosity. Beautiful in gritty grotesque. A lamb lights upon the searing dark-light torch...kill them all with glee No pity or remorse towards humans humanity human nature, we are disgusting creatures until I cease thinking about us. Then we are interesting and subject to more discovering and journeying. Take the child and expose it to everything at once; it shrivels and mumbles distant screams of flaming cliches combined with a burning shot of plasmatic soul searching. How would we approve of such? Inside the black brown shriveled parchment child-casing: The other children are ignorant. My crooked cracked being shivers disgustingly. I hate them instantly. Not hate. A rigid viscous feeling. Rip apart the sublime ape. She-he in all splendid obsession. Strive, then, no more to ape the emblems of the spirit that was, but evoke anew that spirit in modern life. I, we trust none. Drama drama dramatic dramatically dramatical in all appearances, but truly flat-line non expressionist. I love only once. Burn them and their wicked kindness. I will soothe my satisfactions and live love only once. My Muse is the riptide chainsaw hackslash terror of our generation. Reveling in the natural ones. The rocks scrape phrases up of graves and trees wickle waveringly with pleadings of insane sleeps. How beautiful is nature. That it can reduce us to nothing at all and raise us upon our grandest delusions. I love to despise of women's voices. Androgyny is revelation worthy. Epiphany causing in romanticism. I love to desire my emotional and mental consumption. she is grandeur made flesh epiphany constituted within reach glorious ******** you sweet, sweet ******** this soul will rest not mine, not ours it will take rest and tendril itself through all love commissions such things what ****** soul She I Cannot Resist
0
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
extasis
She I cannot Resist
Try men's souls. Provocative mind-whip how you soothe me. I scorn modern poetry...not because it is truly bad or truly good. It just makes me feel as if my pores are ever-expanding with clicking, skittering, masses of insects. Black shiny minuscule monstrosity. Beautiful in gritty grotesque. A lamb lights upon the searing dark-light torch...kill them all with glee No pity or remorse towards humans humanity human nature, we are disgusting creatures until I cease thinking about us. Then we are interesting and subject to more discovering and journeying. Take the child and expose it to everything at once; it shrivels and mumbles distant screams of flaming cliches combined with a burning shot of plasmatic soul searching. How would we approve of such? Inside the black brown shriveled parchment child-casing: The other children are ignorant. My crooked cracked being shivers disgustingly. I hate them instantly. Not hate. A rigid viscous feeling. Rip apart the sublime ape. She-he in all splendid obsession. Strive, then, no more to ape the emblems of the spirit that was, but evoke anew that spirit in modern life. I, we trust none. Drama drama dramatic dramatically dramatical in all appearances, but truly flat-line non expressionist. I love only once. Burn them and their wicked kindness. I will soothe my satisfactions and live love only once. My Muse is the riptide chainsaw hackslash terror of our generation. Reveling in the natural ones. The rocks scrape phrases up of graves and trees wickle waveringly with pleadings of insane sleeps. How beautiful is nature. That it can reduce us to nothing at all and raise us upon our grandest delusions. I love to despise of women's voices. Androgyny is revelation worthy. Epiphany causing in romanticism. I love to desire my emotional and mental consumption. she is grandeur made flesh epiphany constituted within reach glorious ******** you sweet, sweet ******** this soul will rest not mine, not ours it will take rest and tendril itself through all love commissions such things what ****** soul She I Cannot Resist
Continue reading...
27
Look into my eyes. Your eyes are getting heavy You're getting sleepy, Sleeeepy, sleeeepy. Now repeat after me.. "I want to be your love slave". I'd like to scuttle your puttle
 Spiddle your paddle
 Tickle your wickle
 And twittle your taddle Stroodle your doodle Cromple your string
 Brundle your strundle
 And frondle your ding Wear nothing, not even your bikini I’ve spilled some gin on my ****** I thought this uncouth, So I’ve added hermouth, How’d you like me to slip you a martini?
0
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
ryan-daniel-douglas
Untitled
Look into my eyes. Your eyes are getting heavy You're getting sleepy, Sleeeepy, sleeeepy. Now repeat after me.. "I want to be your love slave". I'd like to scuttle your puttle
 Spiddle your paddle
 Tickle your wickle
 And twittle your taddle Stroodle your doodle Cromple your string
 Brundle your strundle
 And frondle your ding Wear nothing, not even your bikini I’ve spilled some gin on my ****** I thought this uncouth, So I’ve added hermouth, How’d you like me to slip you a martini?
Continue reading...
19