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jake aller Apr 2020
?? ?? saeyeong jima  plays out in life

The Korean Proverb
?? ?? saeyeong jima
recently came to life in my life

The meaning of the proverb
Is that you can never know whether something
will be good or bad

and that unexpectedly
what appears to be bad fortune
turns out to be a good fortune

The proverb played
out recently in my life
about lunar  New Year's Day

we were preparing to go to Thailand
from two weeks from our home
in South Korea

and then at the end of February
we would do to go to DC

My wife blew out her lumber desk
and we were forced to cancel our trips
This occurred
just as the coronavirus
was taking out around the world

and if we had gone
we may have been stuck either in Thailand
or we may have been stuck in the United States

and traveling in the mist of a corona outbreak
would probably mean
that we would have been exposed
to the virus


instead we were forced to stay home
and self quarantine ourselves

and therefore
we escaped being exposed to the coronavirus
and we feel much safer
here in Korea  where the outbreak is contained
rather than in DC
where it is still spreading everywhere

so in a sense her misfortune
throwing out her disk
which resulted in us staying at home
and avoiding the coronavirus

is the true meaning
of the Korean Chinese expression
?? ?? saeyeong jima

writers digest prompt write a lucky/unlucky poem

the Terrorists were succeeding beyond their wildest dreams

the terrorists were succeeding
beyond their wildest dreams
they thought what were the chances

it was so much better,
easier than they thought
as the bombs dropped all around them

to where it would end
they did not know
All they knew was that
it was all about to end
you see  they were facing the end

The morning after the end of the world
the bombs fell and fell
in fact all over the world
it felt that the world would end up
being destroyed as the world ends
and nuclear war

they called for the end of the world
be so it must be they
thought to themselves

would they be able to stop the carnage
so it ends much as it begins
one does not know how it would end up
the bombs doing their bomb thing after all
they were simply bombs

all must die once they are released
after all that was the way it was
the bomb facility opened up death

the death of the whole world
of that we can be sure
following the blue prints

the master plans of the war planners
at the end of the day
it looks like Armageddon
a end of the world game

would it get that bad
to end the world

is that what they wanted
they did not know

it is possible no one knew
it was uncharted territory
it was the end of the world
if the bombs did their bomb thing

Poetry Super Highway Prompt

Turn to page 35 of any book. Use the first two sentences backwards for your prompt. I used James Tate, “Worshipful Company of Fletchers” and got: “ The pleasure of little incidents  Remember.”


From Vince Flynn protect and defend original text


If it was possible they wanted to get a look at the blueprints of the facility after all they were doing one so would be called and destroy it in the morning you about where to drop the bomb so better the chances were of succeeding



corona virus tanka

corona virus
it is spreading all over
the world dying

I walk down the path of life
Along with love of my wife

National Poetry Month Day Seven Prompt Tanka

Angela Came to Me for 38 years Bringing me lots of $

Angela Lee came to me
out of a dream she came to me
she walked out of my dreams
eight years after I first dreamt of her
she finally came to me  

it has been 38 years now
that she has been my wife
the love of my life
and every day
I recall the dream
of meeting her

she has brought me much to my life
this love of my life my wife
but the most important thing
she has brought to me
besides her endless love of course

is $
massive amounts of $
as she has made me
richer than I could have ever imagined
turning every day my $
into many more $

They say that a man
should marry a woman
born in the year of the Pig
for pig ladies are incredible
at managing $
and if you are so lucky
you will be buried in $

after Richard Garcia A Letter, a Number and some Punctuation
Poemuzine April 7 presentation prompt



The best meal of my life

the best meals of my life
has always been what my wife
cooks up for me every night

she is a genius in the kitchen
always making something great
from the simplest ingredients


Because she came down with celiac disease
she could  only eat
what she prepared from scratch
and so she was forced
to give up all processed foods

and in the process she became
the greatest cook
in the universe

I wait with baited breath
to taste the great food
that she creates for me

on lunar new years
she threw out her lumbar disk
and we were forced to stay home
just as the corona pandemic
swept across the world

if we had traveled
we would have contracted
the dreaded corona virus

and we were forced
to stay at home
and she took advantage
of staying at home
to try new dishes
every single day

I recall the Korean proverb
?? ?? saeyeong jima
as her misfortune
turned into fortune
and once again
she saved me life


I am the luckiest man in life
the best fed man of all I know
due to the cooking skills of my wife


lion dreams of impossible dreams

A lion’s impossible Dream

for all poetry impossible dream contest

An old lion
Roars in his sleep
Recalling an impossible dream

In his dream
He was a man
Who was chasing a dream
Chasing an impossible dream

The man
Was haunted
By a dream girl

A girl who appeared
Nightly in his dreams
Beckoning him to join her

He searched the world
Looking for her
And then one day

She walked
Off a bus
And into his life

The lion woke up
From the impossible dream
Smiling at the thought

Then he went off
To search for his
Impossible dream

Dreaming still
Of being a man
In search
of a dream girl


corona virus haiku

corona virus
brings death and our destruction
destroying our life










writers digest prompt write a lucky/unlucky poem

The Korean Proverb
saeyeong jima
recently came to life in my life

The meaning of the proverb
Is that you can never know whether something
will be good or bad

and that unexpectedly
what appears to be bad fortune
turns out to be a good fortune

The proverb played
out recently in my life
about lunar  New Year's Day

we were preparing to go to Thailand
from two weeks from our home
in South Korea

and then at the end of February
we would do to go to DC

My wife blew out her lumber desk
and we were forced to cancel our trips
This occurred
just as the coronavirus
was taking out around the world

and if we had gone
we may have been stuck either in Thailand
or we may have been stuck in the United States

and traveling in the mist of a corona outbreak
would probably mean
that we would have been exposed
to the virus


instead we were forced to stay home
and self quarantine ourselves

and therefore
we escaped being exposed to the coronavirus
and we feel much safer
here in Korea  where the outbreak is contained
rather than in DC
where it is still spreading everywhere

so in a sense her misfortune
throwing out her disk
which resulted in us staying at home
and avoiding the coronavirus

is the true meaning
of the Korean Chinese expression
saeyeong jima


the Terrorists were succeeding beyond their wildest dreams

the terrorists were succeeding
beyond their wildest dreams
they thought what were the chances

it was so much better,
easier than they thought
as the bombs dropped all around them

to where it would end
they did not know
All they knew was that
it was all about to end
you see we were facing the end

The morning after the end of the world
the bombs fell and fell
in fact all over the world
it felt that the world would end up
being destroyed as the world ends
and nuclear war

they called for the end of the world
be so it must be they
thought to themselves

would they be able to stop the carnage
so it ends much as it begins
one does not know how it would end up
the bombs doing their bomb thing after all
they were simply bombs

all must die once they are released
after all that was the way it was
the bomb facility opened up death

the death of the whole world
of that we can be sure
following the blue prints

the master plans of the war planners
at the end of the day
it looks like Armageddon
a end of the world game

would it get that bad
to end the world

is that what they wanted
they did not know

it is possible no one knew
it was uncharted territory
it was the end of the world
if the bombs did their bomb thing

Poetry Super Highway Prompt

Turn to page 35 of any book. Use the first two sentences backwards for your prompt. I used James Tate, “Worshipful Company of Fletchers” and got: “ The pleasure of little incidents  Remember.”

From Vince Flynn protect and defend original text

If it was possible they wanted to get a look at the blueprints of the facility after all they were doing one so would be called and destroy it in the morning you about where to drop the bomb so better the chances were of succeeding

corona virus tanka

corona virus
it is spreading all over
the world dying

I walk down the path of life
Along with love of my wife

National Poetry Month Day Seven Prompt Tanka

Angela Came to Me for 38 years Bringing me lots of $

Angela Lee came to me
out of a dream she came to me
she walked out of my dreams
eight years after I first dreamt of you
she finally came to me  

it has been 38 years now
that she has been my wife
the love of my life
and every day
I recall the dream
of meeting her

she has brought me much to my life
this love of my life my wife
but the most important thing
she has brought to me
besides her endless love of course

is $
massive amounts of $
as she has made me
richer than I could have ever imagined
turning every day my $
into many more $

They say that a man
should marry a woman
born in the year of the Pig
for pig ladies are incredible
at managing $
and if you are so lucky
you will be buried in $

after Richard Garcia A Letter, a Number and some Punctuation
Poemuzine April 7 presentation prompt

I met my Fate that date
Fan story contest

I met my fate
on that date
that the love of my life
became my wife

for eight years she haunted my dreams
then one day she walked out of my dreams
truly on that date
my life began when I embraced my fate

and to this date
I never forget that I met my fate
the day she walked into my life
and became my wife

I met my Fate that date
Fan story contest

I met my fate
on that date
that the love of my life
became my wife

for eight years she haunted my dreams
then one day she walked out of my dreams
truly on that date
my life began when I embraced my fate

and to this date
I never forget that I met my fate
the day she walked into my life
and became my wife
april 8th (7th) poems
mark john junor Dec 2013
her smile
and tortoise shell glasses
her picture perfect
delicious curves scented by parisian roses
she steps neatly into the bustling room
and with just a hint of a smile
she stops the room cold in it tracks
as all heads turn
and i must stop and smile to myself
even the other girls desire to be in her arms
even they dream for a moment
of dancing in bed tonight
she leans down and places a tender kiss on my cheek
and the room slowly drifts back to its own dreams
she a tender perfection worshipful and giving joys
she sits with me and
her tight jeans are soft and warm under my hand
and i find myself fascinated by
how she fills up my senses in a moment
i make love to her essence on the air
and passionately tenderly kiss her presence so near
to me that it sets me afire
she takes me
as i take her
XXIX. TO HESTIA (13 lines)

(ll. 1-6) Hestia, in the high dwellings of all, both deathless
gods and men who walk on earth, you have gained an everlasting
abode and highest honour: glorious is your portion and your
right.  For without you mortals hold no banquet, -- where one
does not duly pour sweet wine in offering to Hestia both first
and last.

(ll. 7-10) (33) And you, slayer of Argus, Son of Zeus and Maia,
messenger of the blessed gods, bearer of the golden rod, giver of
good, be favourable and help us, you and Hestia, the worshipful
and dear.  Come and dwell in this glorious house in friendship
together; for you two, well knowing the noble actions of men, aid
on their wisdom and their strength.

(ll. 12-13) Hail, Daughter of Cronos, and you also, Hermes,
bearer of the golden rod!  Now I will remember you and another
song also.
L B Sep 2017
My grandparent's house
ten-kid-large and sinking
on the corners of remembrance
Remodeled now, to
...tenements

Honeycomb
...the remnants

Irish immigrant and Scottish orphan's child
She sang on the ferry
He fell in love
"The rest is the history of us...."
Wide
as the Connecticut River, grieving--
in their sunset....
____

This-- chair
is his

I am afraid of it-- of his learning
of the shiny badge pinned to his coat
of his dying...
Golden leather of it
soothes
his memory--
of another continent
of the once warmth-- of a distant hearth
so darkened now--
where his head once rested
...his hands
and,
I fear--
his mind....

I will not sit in it
as if he will come back, to take his place
I am afraid of him--
with his chair--
all worshipful and empty
like a high place, abandoned
to the heart attack
not for grandchild play
Seat of Authority
still stamped
beside the standing cold--
brass ashtray
Pipe smoke imagines itself
against the ceiling in the words
of Yates and Milton
He read to them
and somehow--

Paradise is Lost....
_____

This house is cold now-- even in the summer-- cold
Worn as only large families wear
The War
of waiting shadows
--four brothers who were spared

Anna Mae, in charge, too young,
worries in abrupt dark
of dinning room
Her face, haunted--
an archway-- ever empty
by the large and ghostly table
covered by its web of lace--
a bridal veil
of Catholic impossibility...
Anna Mae, held hostage by her thoughts
of darling, Sean...

Aunt Lil's “breakdown”
with cigarette and thorazine  
quaking quiet in her corner

Aunt Nell,
as blind as smart-*** hell
ironing, darning
with threads that thatch
the wounded socks
Holds it all together, scolding--
Brought the welcomed jelly donuts
sneered as Yankees clobbered Boston
all-- while drinking yellow ale

Uncle Eddie-- laughing hoarsely
cracks nuts over a wooden bowl
Both of my grandparents died a year apart in the midst of The Great Depression, leaving four of their kids below the age of twelve.  The family struggled through it and WWII that followed.

My Grandfather was a police officer as were a number of his descendants.

The house enfolded them, sending their stories like flares across the generations.
lily Mar 2015
your smoldering gaze penetrated me,
the look in your eyes as you stared at me was worshipful,
your eyes held a thousand dark, carnal promises,
pleasurable shiver skittered down my spine
and I felt like my heart had gotten stuck in my throat.
BORNE on the low lake wind there floats to me,
Out of the distant hill, a sigh of bells,
Mystic, worshipful, almost unheard,
As though the past should answer me, and I
In pagan solitude bow down my head.
mark john junor Aug 2014
her voice a fragile thunder
her thoughts gossamer wings beating on
the thick summer air
her awkward gestures a lovin embrace to
the eyes that haunt her histories

dawns intensity begins
its silent fire consuming more and more of
the spacious turning heavens
a star falls
she reaches out one unconstrained hand
fingers tracing its path across the pale blue skies
a word of worshipful sorrow on her lips
till it fades into the sea
extinguished with loves kiss no doubt
no doubt

she floats upon the wind
no sand or tree in sight
she floats upon the sea
back and forth across the deep night
seeing the world breath
seeing the mechanics of the star strewn heavens turning
how beautiful the stars
how desolate the sun

silence had finally taken her
her parched eyes now forever closed
her hand on the tiller
till doom strikes its hour
alone on the sea
her life slowly ceases
extinguished with loves kiss no doubt
no doubt

her dusty wings folded
the breached purity of her heart
leaves her a silent figure forlorn
with her eyes forever looking distantly
with longings painted vividly on her face
a desolate angel
of sea and sand
to greet the lost sailors
and thouse who wander the sea
at the end of their voyages
end of their days
Emme Apr 2013
Dia
Hacked
Every hook
Every cue
Every one of my references and internal pantheon
He's wired into it.

How did that happen?
He's a stranger
I didn't even know he existed two weeks ago

And yet...
He gets it so right every time.
~~
self referential
I like it when he writes of me. To me.
That curly feeling.
His revelations, and the mirror held up.

Tribute, affection, the wry smile of a stranger.
The slightly bonkers obsession and fascination.
Glimpses of a convoluted mind.
~~
Rib Ice
Standing on thin ice
Peacoat open, arms wide
I step into that hug

Burned by warm skin and hard ribs
Even more by his kiss

He likes to hear me moan
~~
Whose mindfuck now?

Are my actions consistent with my words?
Am I as I say I am?
Do I mean what I say, or am I playing you?
How's your ******* detector?

cards on the table time
abdicate or defecate
ante up
~~
headlong

He leads me on a scavenger hunt, insinuating, enticing, pulling me into dark corners to kiss me and probe me intimately, until we're off to cross the next threshold in this trip...

I have no idea how I got here. Turned round, disoriented, down the rabbit hole.
~~
Deep Purple

On the way out
Curious discoveries

Door handle sticky
Musk in the air

Who's that knocking at my back door?
~~
Goddess, lit**

I like this intimate touch I have on your mind and emotions. It makes me feel powerful and protective of you. And pulls me closer in.

When you say I am a goddess, your goddess, I suspend disbelief and nod in acknowledgment and agreement. Yes, of course. In those times, I know I am powerful, wise, feminine, and mysterious, And that you are before me, kneeling, clasping my legs, leaning on me, head against hip and belly, worshipful.

And sometimes, you clasp my wrist as I'm turning to go and pull me back, quietly certain and not to be resisted. Inevitable. And then what? Kisses? Your hand on my breast bone? Gently steadied to meet your gaze, interminably and for no time at all?

I begin to believe you won't vanish.
Ralph E Peck Dec 2011
The gate is hidden in ivy, thick
Ropes, both alive and dead
Providing trellis for new growth, always
Leaving room for the gate.  Arched
Top of weathered oak, so keenly
Shadowed underneath, one key to
The secret of my secret garden
        Never Locked,
                   No Need,
                        No one goes there but me.
The doorway cut in hollow blocks
Some turned up, others down
A mosaic of solids and holes;
Triangle holes where small breaths
Of citrus air sneak past, to scent
And blend with vine and flower
Large and small, brilliant shades,
         Fresh turned earth,
                   Nostrils full,
                       With sweet privacy.
Walls, much taller than my head
Surround the inner area
One north; a mass of solid stone,
One south; holding the gate in its arms,
One west, staying the evenings sun
One east, open every other stone
With the beams of Sol cutting through
           Giving life,
                   Living Light,
                        Make my garden alive.
Well worn bricks in connecting
Circles, still damp at noon
From dawns' quick cleanings.
My feet in soft soles, never disturbing
By tick or clacking a fear in
The blue-jays and redbirds
Perched on the ancient carved stones
            Worshipful,
                    Quiet though singing,
                               Singing for me.
The oak bench, painted only
With rains of many seasons
Polished seat and back, smooth as
Sanded, with the fabric of trousers and shirts
My body reclined in respite,
A few hours, a few minutes
Stolen from the demands of others,
             Everyday demanding,
                      Draining the quiet,
                            Chipping at the walls of my garden.
A damp perspiration
Slips down the inside of my shirt,
My face is washed in the afternoon sun
Alone, finally alone,  pulling useless weeds
Impeccable manicure, attempting perfection.
Maniacal fervor must find a place,
A place where one can think,
                A place of my own,
                       of my making,
                            My secret garden.
Me! I! Myself! Mine!

I shout these words in militant exertion,
Demanding people to stop,
Commanding them to hear,
Ordering their full, undivided, worshipful attention.

"Am I not the centre of the universe!? Listen to ME!" I scream,
And sulk like an angry child as the world continues on,
Unperturbed, unaltered, un-adoring,
Without even noticing my voice.

If no one else will pay me heed,
Then I, at least, must do so.
So I worship my own image,
And prostrate myself before the alter of my self conceit.
I sing my own praises to my own ear,
And ******* myself to myself
in a vain attempt to satisfy my undying vanity.

Oh, you vainglorious *******!
Made illegitimate by the illegitimacy of your false worship
And the hypocrisy of your heart.
Do you not know, you were made to kneel? Fashioned to bow,
Not to your own image, but before the visage if Him Who made you in His own likeness
That you might bear within yourself the most sacred cartouche,
The most precious signet,
The most holy seal.

For you have been called to higher things than this broken clay vessel you defile with your adulterous worship.
Oh, you conceited fool!
Puffed up in your own pride,
Unaware of how utterly worthless you have made yourself.

And yet your Maker still stoops from Heaven
To hear your piteous moans,
And His heart weeps to see your self-inflicted wounds.

Thus He reaches down
And whispers His deepest Love to you
While you are yet gleefully drowning in your sin.

So unaware are you of anything but fleshly gratification.
But He touches you,
When you least expect it.
Like pearls discovered in a dung heap,
He surprises you with the Treasure of His Grace.
And with the tenderness of His Loving touch,
Lifts you from your mire and whispers in your ear:

"Oh, my Little Worm, I am your Redeemer."
The primary concept behind this poem comes from the Bible in the Book of Isaiah, Chapter 41, verse 14. In this chapter, God is speaking to the wayward, sinful people of Israel. In verse fourteen, He says " 'Fear not, you worm, Jacob, you men of Israel! I am the One who helps you,' declares the Lord; 'Your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel."

The way that God calls His people a "worm" struck me. Because it's not used as an insult, or said in disappointment. But rather it is spoken as though this little worm, most worthless of all the creatures, was especially dear to Him. He loves us despite our lowly, worthless state. And He whispers this promise over His Beloved worm: "Do not be afraid. For I am your Redeemer."

Oh, how beautiful is that!
claire Oct 2015
There are certain events in every life that happen with stunning destiny. Lovers meeting, for instance—two strangers laughing over spilled drinks in a bar somewhere in rural Greece. A book with a forgotten twenty dollar bill tucked in its pages tumbling off the shelf and falling open at a patron’s feet. The initial eye contact between a boy and the child who will eventually become his best friend.

Falling in love with you.

I never stood a ******* chance. There was always something there, wasn’t there? From the very first moment all the way to now, a duality, circling one another endlessly. I have loved you terribly, awfully, for so long. For far longer than you or I knew. Perhaps even always.

This is the story of that night. That Night. The night I realized. I’ll do my best to take you there, back to you, lightning, me, struck, but no words will ever be adequate.

                                                     …

The night I fall in with you I have no idea what is about to happen.

I have no idea of the long months to come, or how determinedly I will train myself to dismiss the glow you ignite in my stomach, or all the times I will type I love you into the bright emptiness of an email message box, only to punch backspace with a bitter sense of failure, or how I will sit in darkness on another night, a night currently in the unfathomable future, thinking that you don’t love me back and never will, aching like the Earth must have ached when its surface split into pieces, fissure-hearted and dazed.

I am in the path of a swiftly approaching avalanche, but I have no idea of any of this.

The night I fall in love with you I am young and the stars are out and you are at the door. The night I fall in love with you my heart is beating like a wild deer’s and you are in front of me. Leaning against the door frame. Smiling a little.

Oh, if hearts could speak. If they had mouths of their own, if they could voice the truths boiling within us. If they could say this is what I want. If hearts could stand up and say I love you so much it feels as if I am dying then that is what mine would have said, unstoppably. Because if my heart had had the ability to roar just then, it would have declared its infinite adoration for you and demanded the same in return. It would have said I’m keeping a place inside me warm for you, I promise you. The lamp is lit, the door unlocked. I am ready for your entrance, dear, and I always will be.

But this is not a story about declarations, because the night this happens I am young and shocked and burning, and my heart has not learned how to speak.

                                                         …

It goes like this.

You are at the door and I am falling in love with you.

No, that’s wrong. I’m clearly already in love with you and must have been for a while, but it’s finally falling together. The pieces of you are settling into my psyche like mosaic fragments of the most of extraordinary sort. You’re saying something, probably hello, but I’m not hearing you. All I’m thinking of is you and your eyes and your way of treating me as if I am someone more deserving than I really am, you and you and you and you. Your hands and your laughter and your beauty, tendons and muscle, bones and ligaments, veins and blood, blood running under your skin and mine.

There are other people there, but they don’t matter. Just you. I want to melt in your arms, your hands, your voice. I want to be rebuilt and reborn, transformed into something proud and lovely, something that is you and I together. I know then that I am ******, utterly, that I would carry you to the ends of the earth.

That just standing beside you is heaven.  

                                                      …

Behind you the night sky is sweeping coal, but there’s so much brilliance radiating from you that there is no place to hide, no place to bury my breathlessness. I cannot escape your light. The night is cool as ice, but you are warm and my heart is leaping out of my chest, jumping toward you like a worshipful beast, red and rough and bursting.

One day it will reach its destination, but not yet. It’s the moment I fall in love with you. It’s now, and the night is deep and soft.

You and I are together, and between us there’s a shivering bond nothing can ever extinguish, not even the end of the universe. Because even if we weren’t together we would still be thinking the same thoughts, sharing the same observations, arcing in the same trajectory.  The sheer certainty of this makes my head spin. It is in this instant that I know if hearts could shout, mine would say us and always.

I’d like to tell my heart about the future. Whisper things like she’ll love you too and it’s going to happen and when it does it will be so electrifying that the wait will be worth it; when it does it will release parts of you no one knew existed and you will not feel like a criminal anymore for wanting her and when it does it will be miraculous.

But it doesn’t know about the wait or the want or the worry, or the day it is finally brave enough to sing its love, putting us together, finally, as we must be.

Not yet.

All it knows is tonight.
Travis Green Apr 2023
I crave long, hypnotic moments
Locked in his chocolate rock-solid arms
His charming stalwart voice allures me
His assertive worshipful immersivity
Makes me such a flashy fabulous ***
For his rare splashy fantasticalness

The way he wields his wicked rhythmic beauteousness
Makes me so crazy dazed and confused
Lost in his sinewy pulchritudinous grooviness
Mister city slicker, he is so assertive and observant
A cherished firm spectacularity

He carries me away, in all his devouring
And earth-shattering rareness
He has me floating on air
Reveling in the way his sleek, **** muscles swell
And compel my homosexualness

Gracefully massive and talented splash
I wanna be in his top-notch ****** factory
Take in his crash-hot rhyming slang
Get lost in his bang-up cranked up game
Let him deflower my playground

Grip my soft curvy hips
Kiss my glossy full-bodied lips
Whisper his indecent and unprecedented desires
In my pierced ears, stare into my dreamy twinkling eyes
Tantalize me with his powerfully appetizing
And gripping masculineness

Swim in his sensational stream
Of intensely sensual and adventurous dreams
Let him converse sexually with my inner world
Make me feel his action-packed powerhouse hotness
Make me crash-land into his enchantingness

Feel him finesse my delicate vessel
Touch every part of me with his strong, skillful hands
Send me into the craziest treasured trances
Peruse me, ****** me, get rude to me
Let me experience the delicious sweetness
Of his deep, enthusiastic heat

My wondrous, perfect superstar
He takes me into the highest imperishable galaxies
Where he has me so bowled over
By his smoking hot showiness
Savor the flavor of his praisable blazing straightness

My bright shining dream guy
My ***** lucky charm
I wanna feel the unrivaled power
Of his passionate spectacular masculinity capturing me
Give me a ridiculously piping-hot fever

Make me become overwhelmed
By his magnetically appealing freshness
Set me ablaze in his brazen engaging maze
As I gaze at the softness of his sweet brown lips
Surrender to his sexually stimulating dreaminess

In sync with his seamless splendorous frequency
Feel his slick well-built physique all over me
Such a cool covetous cruiser
Magically prodigious bewitchingness
Unbelievably ebullient and sexalicious brick

He fills me up with his wild, intoxicating love
Makes me hunger to bust a hunk of nut
All over his studly succulent structure
Lick him up and down like flaky, tasty, and southern biscuits
Let his dopeness flow down my throat

I wanna absorb his alluring world of glory
Become neurotic and besotted
By his unconquerable phenomenal sauciness
Caught up in his dangerous, relentless hurricane
Of flaming hot amorosity where he rocks and tames my frame
Robert Ronnow Jan 2021
I’ve never put a candidate’s bumper sticker on my car before—
why not take sides—what are you waiting for?
Death puts a stop to daily low intensity warfare but in the meantime—
      fight on!
What are we fighting for? Let’s see—
clean air and water and room to walk around in cities and deserts
America the seeing eye dog not America the junkyard dog—
collective deliberation among nations, clear passage through seas and
      borders
compact and contiguous Congressional districts that represent actual
      communities
education and health care for everyone who wants it—worldwide
good food too, affordable shelter and a living wage
a say in governance—local and global—free from fear of violence

Should you be subsumed by a cause bigger than the self?
unlike Rick in Casablanca who keeps to himself
I’m advertising my loyalties with bumper stickers on rickshaw and kayak
every time I come and go
it’s a free country—or maybe I’m so low profile no one notices or
      cares to take revenge
so small time I have time and no enemies or friends
What about Whitman and his love for Lincoln
he found a way to participate in the war that satisfied his muse, as a
      nurse
oh, I want to add space exploration and no nuclear war
plus basic science and ancient arts, black lives matter

Here are some things you have to put up with or out of mind
while enjoying the beautiful black and white photography and rousing
      Marseillaise:
that Sam, played by Dooley Wilson in worshipful subservience to “Mr.
      Rick,” endures his lonely abnegation and abstinence in Paris while
      Rick savors the nordically white, luscious Ilsa;
that Ilsa, on the lam across the wide world from pursuing Nazis, is
      apparently transporting an extensive, elegant, perfectly manicured
      wardrobe;
that Rick, in wartime Casablanca, has managed to hire a full 20-piece  
      jazz orchestra for which we willingly suspend disbelief since it’s  
      essential for singing the Marseillaise which never fails to bring tears
      of pride to Yvonne’s eyes;
I guess that’s about it except why would you spend a minute in Sydney
      Greenstreet’s fly-infested café when Rick’s air-conditioned
      establishment is right across the street, an overnice contrast to
      Maghreb culture;
otherwise, I’m in complete accord with IMDb’s 8.5 rating.

On the news last night the president changed the trajectory of a  
      category 4 hurricane. He can’t do that! Not my president! They’re  
      laughing at us!
Who’s got trouble? We've got trouble. How much trouble? Too much  
      trouble.
After Casablanca, it's headed for South Carolina.
--Jerome, M.K. and Scholl, Jack, “Knock on Wood”, as performed by Dooley Wilson in the film Casablanca, 1942.
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
The spirit watched quietly
No hand could it raise.
The spirit listened closely
As the faithful sing of praise.
After the worshipful leave
And go back to their home
The spirit wants to know
And sets itself to roam.

The spirit watches us
And hears us when we talk.
It carefully remembers when
Our words don’t match our walk.
The spirit never wants us
To leave the weak and poor
To starve in ignominy
And crawl across the floor.

The spirit is always there
When the rich pretend to be
The very essence of kindness
And unfettered generosity.
And when those same people
Lie and cheat and even steal
The spirit knows for certain
Their piety is nothing real.

The spirit uses gentle thoughts
Set in all our inner souls
To remind us of who we are
And of our intended roles.
But some prefer to ignore them,
The inner urging of their spirit,
And though they know better
They don’t seem to want to hear it.
small items for sewing and other notions.
ribbons wound carefully secured with a
nice topped pin, not the ordinary.

it should be so, or sew.

buttons in bottles, and jars,
safed for the occasion, with
occasional poppers, oft worded
press fasteners unlike hooks,
and eyes,known as hooks and eyes.

the word appears in chaucer’s
canterbury tales, appears here,
too.

haber dashers have patron saints
just like all the other trades,
alongside worshipful companies.

at the mill , all is tidy now.

sbm.
Creepstar Jan 2016
What does 322
Mean to you?
Who is who?
Because they do

Rich men
A spiders web
What happens when
And Geronimos head

An owl that was a bull
Controlled chaos disaster
Their clubs are full
Plus one worshipful master
KathleenAMaloney Sep 2016
Dare He See
The Marks
Of His ****** Desire
Upon Their Flesh

Even More Clearly
Their  Mind Awakened Now
Calm Master, Calm Knowing

Eating Worshipful Prayers
For Bloods Bargain
Archers Bulls Eye
Pleasures Point
Number One Concubine
Unfulfilled Undeniable
True Sorrow
For This and Only this
Can All Be Spared
Dr Peter Lim May 2018
There's such a heartening glow in your face
as the last rays of evening subside
your smile is wrapped in such sweet grace
I'll ask for nothing more beside

your glory will light up every place
in your heart my worshipful devotion will abide
life should be an unfailing welcome and embrace
come love, o tender love, be our constant guide!
* after 16th century Elizabethan romantic verse
jeffrey robin Mar 2015
She was so proud of herself !

She had turned her soul

Into such pure despicable ugliness

That all the girls were jealous of her

Mastery of Misery !

||

They would gather before her

And with worshipful songs

Would *******

To her image

And sing praises for her

Magical malignancy

And self abusing prowess





( it was the golden age of HELLO POETRY poetry ! )



to

THE BOYS

it was the very epitome of WONDROUSNESS

The total
Marriage

Of *** & DEATH

Of

POWER & IRRESPONSIBILITY

//

EARTH & HELL

Of

MAGIC POWERS

&

SELF DEBASING HUMBLENESS

//://

to me

It was just

******* BORING

••

as is all display of

STUPIDNESS
I went away, but it wasn't for play
Certainly, though, it didn't show,
the strenuousness--
head wrapped in gauze and cement at once.
And your bed is your grave
like a mummy entombed.
No sleep is ever enough
because it's too late.
But compared to the rest of the world,
it's your sun-infusing life pod.
As Earth's energy grows
stalks to the sky in nature, emerald green
and in the city, tin men and women wound
with a key
tight to within an inch of their lives
to build pillars of silver and glass,
equal parts plaintive and proud.
The atmosphere and ants proceed
as they would
while I cannot be worshipful, as I should,
to this planet we've been given.
My tributes were never tangible--
whispy as they're twisting to, I fear,
be ephemeral.
So why does a pen or keyboard taps
feel like a moral stand?
They say the Devil's playthings are idle hands
but in reality, my corpse hands
cannot volunteer to any definitive ends.
Though sin of sloth, I'll have to admit.
I hadn't written poetry in too long...
**** of innocent squaw king “noble savage

as coined by Jean Jacques Rousseau. –

     men of yore abusive, deceptive, heave, murderous scamps, thus no different than modern roman font size twelve times.
     i ponder what this tract of heavily commercialized former farmland looked like before European settlers bull dozed their might (against indefensible right) eventually liquidated every last native inhabitants, and paying tacit homage by hash-tagging those who bore a greater birthright to remain, boot the primitive means of self defense out gunned by aggressive intruders, and now the ghosts of wantonly slain innocent kindred folk, who endowed sanctity to this tortured planet prompts me wonder at the lost innocence (childlike) respect toward aged elderly, whose oral knowledge encompassed the know how regarding survival skills now lost.
*******************­
a column of el nina fury swept ashore
with santa maria frenzy like a beastly bus
gone wild as teenagers during spring break
hedonistically frolic and cuss
oblivious of the native tribes,
who once blissfully n’er dealt with a fuss
of bacchanalian, leviathan,
saturnalian proportions spreading ****
when ill animalistic germs disguised then
triangulated within narrowing pen
contaminated, decimated, eradicated “red” men
once a collection of indomitable
indigenous separate “nations”
plucked by nemesis of free-wheeling
invaders, who usurped america as their den
releasing poison couched as religion into the air
which indignities true colors became readily clear
when europeans “discoverers”
deliberately fomented war-fare
to those whose instincts
found themselves in deadly cross hair
as every square inch of “new world”
grimly rustled peace in every lair

with deadly piping hot metallic bullets with near
e chance for aboriginal peoples that seemed queer
with unfamiliar customs on par with a satyr
without the means to escape any direction they did veer
cohesion of unity did completely annihilate without a trace
forced to endure countless cruelties
i.e. a holocaust usurping space
that belonged to those, who stood apart as
utopian temperate separate race
paraded as “exotic specimens” in some faraway place
bandied about as if they happen
to be some rare refinery like silken lace
cheated, finagled, inveigled,
lured, oppressed, root from entire face
of their rightful home by
chicanery, frippery, illusory and base
though with hawk like vision totally blind
to banality, deviltry, effrontery,
gimcrackery, hostility though dined
with fool-hardy, mockery,
travesty from Europeans whose dreams lined
against so called “brutish
and nasty” original occupants who maligned
innocent amazingly gracefully
lean peoples who did pine
for lovely bones where ancestors
warriors descendants withered on vine
against vanquished population
resembling Asian creed
whence soldiers commemorated
for revenge as worshipful deed

shackled, ***** only in death freed
yet in lethality our forebears flush with greed
which cruelty, debauchery, enmity,
ferocity – essentially genocide knew no heed
feigning sincerity, yet holding
murderous rapacity to slay every hide despite plead
and exchanging peace pipe made of reed!
alex e Sep 2014
Nose so hard to the grindstone my face is unrecognizable and I seem to have lost my dignity out of my ears I’m not quite sure what to do with the breathing spaces between periods anymore. I lost my art like people lose keys and I’m sure it’s still under the couch but I just don’t see it anywhere.
They should call it a writer’s monolith because of its worshipful insurmountability; I sat there beating on it with my bare hands until they were ****** arm and hammers freshening up my mind and I was free, free from art.
And of course that’s when my life fell apart and my self-harm came from the grindstone, ignorantly pressing inputs for a desirable output I feel like my soul was numbed.  Part of me walked away in outrage at the boldness of this new survival style because there was no life.
As college kids we joke about no-lifing to get work done but what happens when you no-life life? It would explain the singularity roughly two inches under my left lung.
Sleep still comes difficult to me.
Love,
Alex
Mike Essig May 2015
An old man smitten against the odds;
what could be more pathetic?
He knows a lot. He knows better than this.
He has been to war, married, divorced.
He knows all the games from both sides.
He knows she is young, beautiful, far away.
He knows that she chooses whom she wants;
that she runs the game.
He knows he brings nothing to her
but empty hands and a worshipful soul.
He has stayed alive this long
by knowing and covering the odds.
In that, he has always been smart.
Never play the other man's game.
Keep a clear head. Surprise your enemies.
Know when to laugh and walk away.
And yet, he wants nothing more
in the world than a seat at this table
in this most unlikely game.
A chance to win what can't be won.
A chance to have what can't be taken.
One very much last chance.
An old man smitten against the odds;
what could be more pathetic?

  ~mce
CharlesC Apr 2017
2000 years of theology and science
double down on assumed separation..
The assumption lies in hiding
prescribing limits and locations..
Worshipful observing and measuring
lodges us in an imprisoning body..
A crisis arises when it is found
we cannot locate this body or prison..
Of a sudden a veil is removed and
separation melts as ice in warm water..
Yet now we can celebrate separation
with a body finally set free..
The cave is empty and we are not
the person we assumed we were
destined to be...
Eleete j Muir Aug 2019
All thought must be offered up as a sacrifice
The sacrifice of the human will, but after this
The judgement as it is appointed unto men
Once to die as the hue and cry of Rhadamanthus
gavel falls netherwards fore death is the epitome
Of sins penalty; the epitome of sins liability is
Therefore the holy wrath of the First Cause,
Dispensing the empyreal quiddity of eternities
Wisdom as into the fire all things are cast due
To the hardness of the featherless bi-peds nescient
Hearts on that most ancient battle field where
Free-will and Destinies depravity bewrays the
Impenitent categorical imperative that all truth
Is worshipful and the wind blows where it listeth
Since by man came the mire of death, by man also
The resurrection of the dead; and the weights
Of life and the measures of death, (the general
revelation), under the karmic laws for which All
Are to have to pay in time to come are vinadicatory
Of God, the author of all things, whose drink for
The good of all beings is always compassion thus
Serving only to render men without excuse as
Either Elysium or Sheol await, because man
Does not cease to exist in the land of silence
As the region of darkness it is not non-existence;
But it is not life when both life and death
Concern the whole man to lift up thy heart.


ELEETE J MUIR
Travis Green Aug 2022
You are my charming sparkling sweetheart
Mysteriously peerless and saucy
Beloved, delectable, and lovable lover boy
Wickedly glistening hotness
Your machoness travels to the core of my heart
Makes me call your name

Indulge in your game
In the harmonious crash-hot hours
The fresh earthy smell
Of your gorgeous flamboyant architecture
Captivates and pervades my senses
Such wondrously worshipful warmth
The way your skin unifies with mine
Chocolate-box toned hotness

You cradle my gayness
You exhilarate the superb curves
Of my brightly colored body
I feel your stirring fervor
The way you move your hands
On my bodacious boops
Bite my delightful rigid points

Display your wicked wild side
Entangle me in your booming luminous flame
Indefatigable illuminating magicalness
Slay me with your snake-like sensual moves
Pure atomic pressure, you sink me into your glory
Make me adore you forever
She spreads her tentacle
As dew of snow pour
Releasing fragrance of splendor
Her enthralling colors perfect her odor

She is my morning rose
Making me to dive nose
Into ***** of garden bed
Enfolding myself in the still of her body sheet

Warmness shroud me like hail
As all ill-notion served me in your jail
Prithee i don't grant me bail
Only your heart nail my wood nail

Lasting love elope without delay
In purity of your heart let me rise high
For you're my **** of serotonin relay
My worshipful goddess relief clog me with sigh

Let me have one excruciating moment
Defying gods rule
Where we create akin gods
For the ****** birth is worth exemplary as you're already betrothed to nature

Let me be the sun that breaks the jinx
Let me be the moon that minced you
Into perfume that scent on my body odor
Where your kind despise me as you're my rose
Let the fire display and burn in my skin
So the flames cloud me as mist as I wake with you
Lying forever in soil of your between

by
Martin Ijir
Travis Green Sep 2022
Upscale praisable sensation
Radiant grade-A tastiness
The most cherishable
And worthiest immersiveness
Your infectious eximious flex is beyond description
Unconquerable mind-boggling machoness
Banging hot marvel
I want to mack with your grabby beardazzling masher

Take a ride on your remarkably rip-roaring rollercoaster
Taste your fabulously picturesque and delectable lips
Fuse my silken feelers against your smooth tattooed neck
Get an eyeful of your lush deluxe seduction
Opulent dominant hot stuff
So arrestive, impressive, and reflective psychedelic finesse
I yearn to unravel your enrapturing earth-shattering majesty

Feel inside the slickest and sweetest depths
Of your incredible stretchable majesticness
Make you moan astonishingly saucy words
Break down your flaming powerhouse sublimeness
Make your extraordinary worshipful mantuary shudder
****** my seductiveness in your yummy creamy tunnel of thugness
Let my magical slappers captain your beefy brick-hard buns

Make your hunkiness dumbstruck
As I run my mayo shooting thunder gun
Deeper in your lustfully seductive guts
Rub my luscious mushroom head against your manpussy
Swirl it around in your appetizing amorous playground
Let me devour your splashiness
Jab my spectacular graspers tight enticing masculineness
Meddle with your thick meat stick
Your massive dangling clappers

Feel your supernaturally passionate *** cheeks
Bounce against me as I pound you violently
Like the biggest, fiercest, and unbridled lion
I rifle your divineness, tattoo gayness
On the salacious pages of your straightness
Shake down your inner nation
Listen to your oohs and ahhs
As I send steaming steezy electricity
Throughout your ****** attractiveness

Watch me dominate your brazenness
Feel you clench your back end
The more I send your masculinity
Give you my exceedingly bewitching sweetness
Bliss you out, make your mouth water
As I hold you tighter, peruse the inmost limits
Of your seamlessly invincible dreaminess
Smoke you out, make your head spin
As I stream out hot and salty sausage juice deep into your innerness
Dr Peter Lim Dec 2019
Nothing from you ever
is less than enchanting
your smile soothes and uplifts
and glorious is the morning-

nothing that you say ever
is less than enrapturing
the birds stop short their singing
in their worshipful listening-

nothing that you aspire ever
is less than inspiring
into rarest beauty your words crystallise
nothing is left wanting-

nothing that you dream of
is less than the heart's holy desiring
time shall but re-echo anew
and shower you with every sweet blessing.
Regina Jun 2020
In God's House,
we assemble
and feel so
worshipful,
yet, look askance
and whisper,
feeling as if
we're more
qualified
to sit in
a pew
than those
we deem inferior,
we gossip, bicker,
in God's House,
how can we
be compassionate,
if we're not even humble,
in God's House.
Travis Green Mar 2023
I wanna be in his life, enticed by his tight masculine spice
Scope out how he smiles, pretty brown eyes that hold my attention
Sweet appetizing lips that make me wish to kiss him for days on end
Revel in the way he flexes his reverent chest muscles
My confident, dominant marvel, I love how he slips out of his gear

He showcases his nakedness, and shows me what he is made of
Make me covet to rub every fraction of his grabby passionate majesty
Taste his brazen blazing engagingness, the coruscating shape
Of his flawless ardent geometry, a sprightly shining delight
That shines sublimely in my sight, so ripe and biteable
Like a highly flavored navel orange, like a tempting luscious pear

A big, juicy magic wand to swallow, a large and macho **** sack
To clasp and cherish, to feel its warmth against my jaws
Feel it rest on my tongue, feel his worshipful dope-worthy dome
Deep down in my throat, astonish and punish my bouncy banging
Busters, manhandle my stiff quivering tips, spit in my mouth
While I steadily go down on his sloppy, wet, and monstrous thruster

Let it fill me with wonder, let it lead me into its ****** high-pressure Thunder, rain down its untouchable robust crunkness on my lush Fetching structure, press his thickness against my smooth chocolate
Chin, let me sink into every unmerciful lekker inch
Let him control me with his extra heavy smoke
Make me choke while I ******* it, wreck my throat

Allow me to savor it like a creamy, decadent caramel mocha cake
Munch on his aggressive majestic hunkiness
Make him **** deliriously, unearth his picturesque work
Of saucy showstopping art, rock his big veiny pipe
Make him so hard as **** as he floods my mouth
With his dangerously inviting and spellbinding arousingness

Slurp him down, again and again, make it throb, slob
On his astonishingly remarkable dome, feel the
Relentless resilience of his brilliant magnificent dreaminess
Feel the perfectly enrapturing magic of his masculinity
Venturing deep within my innerness, my beaming keen king
His sheer strong structure is worthy of mention

A considerable readable sweetness that is my weakness
Hella hypnotic sensations thrilling through my inner space
The more I dine on his almond-brown swinging hammer
Turn him on more and more with my lurid alluring homoness
Bewitch his deliciously physical features, trace his **** *** kingdom
With my deft soft clingers, I search into his fervent moist valley
Of magically mantastic enchantment, the rare tatted curves
Of his spectacular sculptured form, vicious nutritious exquisiteness

My kissable squeezable heavy-hitter, I got mad love for him
I am so intrigued by his extra lit kick-*** splashiness
The way he tastes in my mouth, shrouded in desirable unbounded
Power, such glowing and mind-blowing fire in his deep brown eyes
I **** on his tasty teasable thickness, making him thunderstruck as ****, make him erupt with his explosion of bright, bubbly nut
As it covers my proud and delightful face
Don't chicks do pig tails anymore? Honestly! Think about it. I'll prepare the bath, Whitney. Try being gay for a week. Everything backs up on you. It's like a ruptured urinary bladder resulting from prostatitis sintomas. I am like the rest. I'm as common as dirt. I love 'em and I leave 'em. I maintain all the qualities of a dog EXCEPT faithfulness. Ask my Hospice nurse. It's just like Easter all over again. If only I had the time for such suchness. Most of my days are spent in international conference rooms. For relaxation I supervise digs in my 45 diamond mines. Don't let my homosexy appearance fool you as I could tear your head off in one fell-swoop. It's a terrible responsibility that detracts from my homosexy lifestyle. My gang will demoralize com-pliant America with "the snake dance." Canada is ***-purpling icy frigid. Canada is colder than a well-digger's ***; colder than witch **** in a steel bra. Because Becky Lou, as he/she is known in Eastern Kentucky, is a double amputee with 12 toes. Sister Hillary is my pre-op brother. It's extraordinarily complex, more so than a quadruple mastectomy on Siamese twin midgets who share an enlarged gall bladder. Dad tried to smother him/her with a swimming-pool liner. With 6 teeth you're on your way. Call me Kitten because I sit in sand. It's probably a yeast infection. Have your veterinarian look you over. I've never felt more alive, more vibrant and more worthy of eternal, worshipful praise. Is it something queer, or Kosher, or dainty? I'm 6' 1" which isn't very, very tall. Really tall people suffer vascular (circulation) problems more often than the midgetized population. The way to honor ****** is not by goose-stepping. The way to honor Herr ****** is to remember the good things he championed like ridding the Father Land of undesirables, cheating death & killing stinking commies.
Travis Green Nov 2022
Your sparkling top-tier swagger is perfectly masterful
And worshipful immersiveness, treasured tender flex
Untameable advertisable kryptonite in the limelight
Mad hot star attraction on the map, diplomatic debonair splash

So adventurous and worthy of mention, so eccentrically
Quintessential and sensual, my sultry, smooth seducer
I pine to lie before your errorless earthy allure
Drown in your head-turning and swirling artfulness

Marvel at how you climb out of your dazzlingly white vestments
How you excite and mesmerize my submerged mind
Cajole me closer to the effervescent edge of sweet, hot ecstasy
Where you etch your brilliant honeyed handsomeness all over me

Drape me in your radiant amorous dreams, your soft, luxurious
Peerlessness, let me trace your fragrant **** lips
With my enchanting hands, breathe in your effortless refreshingness
Surrender to your exalted macho suaveness
Travis Green May 2023
I wanna tease his cream-filling pleasure machine
Love it, **** it, taste it, consume it
Savor his immeasurable best-ever delectableness
Give him spectacular eye contact
With his thickness slithering in my mouth
His **** thick tip on my tongue

His ****** brown eyes scan
My bright, enticing design
Gawk at my ***** wet lips
As I pleasure his majesticness
Lick it, kiss it, spit all over it

Grab hold of it, ******* it
***** deep in his blazing hot awesome sauce
Such a turgid, noteworthy, and incomparable throb rod
No one can take me higher
Than my profound new-found kryptonite

The way he touches my eager burgeoning knockers
Knocks my socks off
****** with my beautifully formed pointers
Makes me so soft on his prominent astonishing charmingness
I smile as he invades my throat ferociously

**** on his worshipful crown
Let my hands cling to his tasty naked cakes
The feel of his gargantuan entrancing manliness
Takes my breath away with his treasured def flex
Make my eyes water as I cherish and ******
His perfect hopping ball bag

Take in his ****** attractiveness
My eye-grabbing and strapping master
My smooth ruling prince
I love he serves my thirst
Enraptures me with his boundlessly badass verve

Opens the door to conquering my core
He leaves me breathless
The more I revel in his ravishing satisfying world
Of buzzworthy overpowering rareness
I devote my homoness to his machoness

Give him everything he wants
Make sure I do my part to enthrall
His monster thunder thruster
Dominate every inch of him
Make my world tremble

Make me catch feelings
The more his firmness grows harder in my throat
Cause me to choke and glow with passion
As he reaches a surpassingly magical ******
And paint my mouth full of his number-one *******
Travis Green Jul 2022
Your radical shatterproof masculineness
Makes my mouth water
Grabs the attention of my dimension
Your dreaminess blends
With my mysteriously enchanting existence
I seep into your blazing bassline beat
Taste the realness and sweetness in your litness
Your unending glimmering exquisiteness

Take in your reproachless dopeness
So beardtastic, mantastic, and radtastic
Lickable lushalicious lips
Dazzling worshipful eyeballs
Your deliciously brill slickness
Dances in my inner gaylicious space
Majestic perpetual heavenliness
You are unconquered star-studded seduction
Erotically marvelous hotness in the darkness

Your top-quality rock-hard charmingness
Transports me into a consciousness-expanding trances
The way your crashingly radical tattoos are rooted in my mind
Unbounded muscle-bound chest
Rigid, unyielding abs, velvety impressive arms
Prominent, ram-rod stiff neck, masculine linebacker shoulders
You give me such a strong fondness
For your flawless four-star firmament
The heavenly hair surfacing your delectable dexterous legs

— The End —