"zigged" poems
when i want inspiration to write poetry
i watch a heaving tempest of kisses
they have a better flavor
than cooking shows
what's prettier than pretty pretty
in pigtails
shaking her delicious
derriere whipped Soufflé?
i'm kissing butter princess
witchy ****
spread lickity splits
eating her
with a big wide **** eating grin
like an open face dagwood
whats more poetic than that hopeful glaring
of
Adonis's plumper in paradise
filling Cleopatra's slathered meringue?
ga-ga-ga-gag me, daddy
merciless, pa-leazze
fluttered big wet talking eyes
like pools of blue honey
getting it zigged zagged
hard against a redraw mouth
throttling fluted gullet
while eager throat gasps
a symphonic music of the spheres
in relentless staccato chokes
lovin her big devil **** splashing
all gym built wonder-boy
a litter of ****** and tongues
licking pig greedy
rapturous milkshake waterfalls
whimpering
mmmmmm
oooh big daddy
oh my ****** god
pillar of colossus
you Tunisian donut you
pierce me like a spoon
through summer guava
who screams like that eating lunch
but a half ate apricot?
better than a football game
I'd rather take her greek
more fun than math or small talk
preferable to a pat on the back at work
or a ridged procession at a funeral
oh beautiful dark fig
squatting crotch candy
bubbling tapioca ***
queen of
spun sugar ****
all pyrotechnics
and fluttering sinews
if you asked most
do they watch ****
they'd grow smug like a senator
or punch you in the mouth
outwardly high-minded
refusing the blessing of a
video **** parade
of pirouetting vaginas
and glistening areolas
for the glory
of the secret ************ ceremony
the *** moralists
only good for a secret ******
living their lives
with passions submerged
and nothing to confess
except for guilty offerings
as they wander through dreamland shopping malls
wanting to know
Victorias ***** little secret
seduced
but not caressed
by
a mouthpiece for castrated dreams
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:05 PM UTC
Count-entious . . .
Five-Seven-Five, or
Is it Seven-Five-Seven?
Dyslexic Haiku!
High Coo-Coo . . .
Words like scrambled eggs
Malapropos slip off the tongs
Lysdexics UNTIE!
In Swummary . . .
I never flip turned
I zagged; everyone else zigged
Oh, how I was schooled
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
I used to love the sound of rain
The way it pittered on a windows pain;
The way it patterned on a cobbled lane
I used to love the rain.
You pealed across my sky like thunder
While I, like lightning, zigged and zagged in blunder;
On darkened night you aimed to plunder
But this golden heart had been torn asunder.
I can't account for the ways I've healed
Or which battles on wounded knee I've kneeled;
It's seen on every battle field
The way I've fought, yelled, whispered, & keeled.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
woke up with a throbbing head
felt around but you're nowhere in my bed
i guess i must be dreaming
stood up on a spinning floor
i zigged and zagged on my way to the door
i know it can't be but i know this feeling
i feel like last night was the best night ever
maybe i danced but i can't remember
last night was a blur no matter what i do
i've never had liquor but i think i'm drunk on you
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
Polka dotted up and down,
Polka dotted from head to toe.
Zigged and Zagged, swirled and twirled,
Every part of the dress is covered with polka dots.
From pink to green, yellow to blue,
The dots are perfectly spotted on every part.
Zipped up from the back, laced up frilly sleeves,
It twirls a parade when spinning around.
It's not right for the winter, not right for the fall,
But it fits just right when summer comes around.
It shows off your legs, it makes a V neck,
It catches your figure every point.
It acts like a parachute and works like a blanket,
It's your armor.
This cotton wear may be all that it is,
But never underestimate what a polka-dotted dress can do for a girl.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
in the deadest waters
of your cruel swamp
we heard your voice
sliding on the surface
like a perfectly sailed skiff
avoiding the murky depths
…for an illusive while
reaching our ears softly
lulling us to sleep
on your shell shocked shores
we had no need
to awake
while you sank,
a leviathan in red white and blue,
making only impotent cries
and cyber ripples
before your bloated belly
zagged and zigged
to the black bottom
while we slept
under the spell
of your lost incantations
and spoke in dreamlike verse
of once great nations
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
I remember why I left this place.
It smells like frustration.
So oppressive that breathing hardly seems worth it.
I remember why I left this place, and I can’t believe I came back here.
A stew of anxiety, worry, pain and heightened alarm with big chunks of fear.
So much responsibility here that one mis-step will cause the world to stop turning on its axis.
If only you’d zigged instead of zagged.
If only you’d been better balanced.
If only you’d been better.
My mouth holds the aftertaste of this wretched place.
That won't leave until I am around the corner from this visit.
Its hooks left tender little marks.
I will keep praying that I can turn back around if I find myself on the path here again.
I wish God would take some places off the map.
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
another fork in the road
left or right?
last time I hung a left
I fell down laughing
at the nothingness
that kept me awake
at night...
I could go right
and forge new horizons
that don't feel hollow
and just pretend to swallow
tepidness with one decision
but I'm undecided
at this fork in the road
maybe if I shed some blood
I could read my destination
dripping from my open veins
with just a simple incision
I struggle with the blah blah blah
of "the road less traveled" and
"the road to hell is paved with
the best intentions"
I made choices to take the path
that was less likely to interact
with any who were likely
to make a pact with another
for intervention
I'm on my own
I zigged
when I should have
zagged
and pretended that
it was possible to ****
the importance out of the Deity
that set me upon this path
Alas
I have been dropped
upon this road to redemption
with no moral compass
no false assumptions
and no money to pay for gas
Dec 3, 2011
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC