"zitty" poems
Yes! It's another Barry Hodges "Memories" poem!"
I shall never forget our first date together,
How we wandered through the streets of Soho,
Gazing into the **** shop windows,
Laughing at the giant vibrators on display...
And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro,
Where the rules of hygiene were not
As strictly observed as might have been hoped for,
Promising a regurgitatory treat in store...
You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners
And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth;
O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically
Caressing it with my own mouth sausage...
I ****** and ****** and ****** and ******
And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits
'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers;
How my underwear damply stretched out of shape...
I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek
Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire;
And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot
With its previously observed black centre...
My huge uncontrollable lust conquered
The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners
And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty
Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein...
The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed
In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation
And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony
Your own mighty ****** fast approaching...
Oh what a foretaste of what was to come
When we repaired to my convenient bedsit
For an immensely gratifying triple bonk
Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session...
And now I lie back in sweet recollection
Of the many nights we spent in copulation
But how sad I am as, looking at the deserted bed,
I can still make out the stains of your dying turds.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
A "Memories" Poem from the great Barry Hodges' pen
I shall never forget our first date together,
How we wandered through the streets of Soho,
Gazing into the **** shop windows,
Laughing at the giant vibrators on display...
And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro,
Where the rules of hygiene were not
As strictly observed as might have been hoped for,
Promising a regurgitatory treat in store...
You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners
And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth;
O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically
Caressing it with my own mouth sausage...
I ****** and ****** and ****** and ******
And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits
'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers;
How my underwear damply stretched out of shape...
I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek
Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire;
And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot
With its previously observed black centre...
My huge uncontrollable lust conquered
The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners
And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty
Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein...
The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed
In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation
And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony
Your own mighty ****** fast approaching...
Oh what a foretaste of what was to come
When we repaired to my convenient bedsit
For an immensely gratifying triple bonk
Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
KITTY
ZITTY
AND P-DITTY
WERE BFFS FOR LYFE
BUT THEN ONE DIED
AND WE ALL CRIED
THE WHOLE NIGHT LONG
BOO-HOO
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
you know that classic love story
the boy sees the girl
she has beautiful shining hair and perfect skin
a smile that radiates like the sun
their eyes meet and they feel a spark.
well i have never heard a love story about a girl with a zitty face
a girl who wears big hoodies and sweatshirts everyday to hide her body that has too much flesh
a girl who
a girl whose smile is more fake than the foundation that she slams on her face to give the illusion of good skin
is that all we care about in this life?
the illusion of perfect
the illusion that the scars on her skin are from a cat
the illusion that you make so your parents can be proud of you
the illusion that living doesn't hurt like hell everytime you open your eyes
the illusion that everytime you wake up youre not terrified to live another day
i will never have a classic love story
because most days i wear big hoodies
because most days i can't smile
because most days i put my hair in a bun
because most days my face is exploding with red spots
suicidal depressed girls don't get happily ever afters.
in this story
the boy will look at the girl
he will see her
and he will look away.
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:53 PM UTC
courting breaths after blue i brighten
i lighten with originless humour
and then ugliness anew
i tighten into some packed pearl of monster
breathe in breathe out courting breaths
the susurration of all this lung
resuscitation and it's 'good morning mourning'
then 'bring out the empathy' ! and zitty connections
and marvel over 'those poor things'
larval in their struggles up the redline
and envision throwing them heaps
of hairdryers salad spinners monopoly boards
vibrating cushions for back massage
and obscure tinned delicacies from my extensive travels
the five devils of my mind tackle my erratic breath
five mad ideas of how to run their lives
milk their hive
form a worship and go to war..
..then it is i who goes larval
carving in on my minuscule heart
crutching in like a fractured pill bug
not daring to raise my eyes
for fear of offending my superiors
breathe in breathe out
counting down the breaths til rattle
Feb 17, 2025
Feb 17, 2025 at 4:48 PM UTC