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Ugo Apr 2012
Dedicated to stillborn fetuses, 99 cent Malt Liquor and Existentialism
1.
Nymphomaniac tree huggers
And overweight bisexual vegetarians
Swallowing phentermine poison to stay fit.

2.
Funky fresh *******  
throwing pigs at St. Augustine’s pear tree
and frolicking abortions over Moloch’s philoprogenitiveness,

3.
While sipping barbecue sauce dipped in Lipton tea,
dancing around adhesive bonfires
reciting memories of holocaust, the Kristallnacht nights
and beautiful words suffered by ancestors lost.

4.
Inhale chicken noodle soup, with a side of Lithium,
And prance to Literacy class to combat envisionment
With free association conceptual constructions,

5.
Computerized like Prometheus’ fire burning through SmartBoards
In classrooms where the poison of heterosexual history
Is fed to boys in skirts cursed by Adam’s apple,

6.
Baptized by social norms and locked away in hopeless closets
According to the Tautology of Leviticus…
until they cut their breath by the vein of soteriology;

7.
Misunderstanding of God’s words
Covets the innocent to early graves
In biblical paratactic irony…like God betting Satan for a Job.

8.
Rub fried chicken oil on Bartholomaeus Anglicus’ skin
and soil his white pride with ***** flavor,
for revenge  On the Properties of Things

9.
and howl out in glory of victory
over totes of  lickerish piper methysticum blunts
that beg the conundrum,
'What is the origin of this world?'
'Ether,' he replied.
But it is not ether!
Nor Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
It is Dada. Dada. Dada!
  10.
For this is a record of the life stories of the greatest minds and geniuses of your generation,
written in boys and girls
who mimicked Basquiat’s genius and tagged bathroom walls with abstract philosophies like “Love is a prime number” and “ the weight of Duncan McDougall’s soul can only be found on the 15th of October”
who drank vampirish gulps of Vicodin while consoling themselves with aphorisms such as: “don’t rue the misses, you don’t need a Mrs. when you’re elevated by chemical kisses”
11.
Who stood naked in mirrors, weeping, for they were a mystery to themselves, but a great talent and soon to be legend to some.
Who lit cannabis in loneliness and waltzed naked with their ghosts, fantasizing about ****** tomatoes and Corpus Christi Mexican Jazz.
Who composed psychedelic anthems from dreams that were lost in ghettoes where virginities were lost for loaves of bread, for the hunger of bread.
12.
Who wrote suicide notes on a toilet seat, contemplating the texture of Marshall Mathers’ favorite underwear and whether the color green was an invention of **** Germany.
Who used to love their lovers in darkness and colored the streets of Manhattan with rainbows on June 24, 2011 to mark the date lady liberty finally bought a new pair of glasses.
13.
Who lost musical talents to a Wine-house and ended up in a whine-house where lobotomy was subsequently prescribed by the milligram.
Who indulged in pharmaceutical vices and when asked why replied simply, every recursively enumerable set is Diophantine.
Who diagnosed themselves with “start ****-itis” and self medicated by eating Fifinellas at the stroke of each midnight.
Who rubbed paraprosdokians on their skin and occupied Wall Street in search of a new euphemism for being American.
Who poured Alkalizer on a dead moose and kicked it while feasting on the divine question, “why does Rice play Texas?”
14.
who got bored with conventional relationships and bought the Origin of the World on street corners from vixens nicknamed “Jezebel” and climaxed atop of them screaming  “I’m in Babylon, the great Mother of ******!”
Who attempted suicides upon suicides upon suicides, in Oakland, until they were shipped away to private catholic universities in Rhode Island, where the history of Colossus was being taught.
15.
who serenaded love interests with four letter curse words at open bars where Kubla Khan was read and Tartars kings were licked all over like holy communion *****.
Who drove home with the spirits of wine and crashed on telephone poles where their obituaries were written in their prime, leaving their mothers weeping and calling congress to reconsider Prohibition.
16.
Who mixed Redbull with Propofol and drank the juxtaposition galore only to be woken up the next morning dead in their sleep.
Who tattooed rat poison packages with goodwill messages such as “****** divided by Water =6th day of creation” or “Seroquel + Brett Favre = St. Patrick”,
who went speedballing with Basquiat during autoscopy and woke up wondering the cost of Nautilus in Albuquerque.
17.
who took 33 hallelujah 1800 tequila jello shots and daydreamed about laying on Mithras’ grave, yelling, beetlejuice, beetlejuice…beetlejuice.
who found the truths of the Bible invalid by the miscalculation of Pi in 1 Kings 7, verse 3, and mailed death on anthrax letters to Reagan in protest.
18.
who sat empty bellied at breakfast tables wondering the temperature of satellites at Lagrangian points,  only to soon catch fire in their tongues and speak Labyrinth soliloquies that ended in
19.
Zion,
Where Google knows every answer.
In Zion
Where the youth, tomorrow’s future, quote a ***** named Hova better than they can quote Jehovah.
In Zion
Where *******’s art was used as weapon during the Cold war.
20.
In Zion
Where sartorial geniuses where no pants,
In Zion
Where David Kato Kisule is the secret hero of these words, for he was taken at a time
In Zion
Where we were supposed to be our ancestor’s sci-fi.

21.
In Zion,
Where the youth bear the scarlet letter X for they are a problem to tradition and hold no definition for the future, for they have discovered
In Zion
That the origin of this world is in their living eyes, and not in the dictionary of their ancestors who lived
In Zion
when the epitome of the literature of life ended in Revelation of Amen and Shantih shantih shantih;
this is a record of the greatest minds and geniuses there ever was, written
in Zion
where the meaninglessness and nothingness of Dada reigns, and the trinity of life now lives in the Subject, subjective and subjectivity.
http://www.amazon.com/OLAF-Nothing-Above-Fiction-ebook/dp/B009XZ9OVY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1353822133&sr;=8-1&keywords;=olaf+last+king+of+nothing
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
i would like to argue with anyone regarding Chris Rea's music... well... it's not exactly dad-rock... glam rock in spandex... it's not the Eagles (god forbid) or Lynyrd Skynyrd... it's a music to do something while listening to it... or rather... not listening to it: rather... it's not listening to traffic... while cycling at night... i don't even think it's car music... it's: cycling at night music... say... to the 24h Tesco for a £6.25 35cl bottle of the cheapest whiskey... while the brothel just teases me... road to hell... it was written about Chris being stuck in a traffic jam on the M25... well... there's hardly a traffic jam when cycling at night... no hands on the handlebars... gliding...

i woke up today and... cleaned the drain...
oddly enough i didn't puke...
but the sight of all that grime of soap and hair...
and fleshy dirt... i always say:
there's nothing like the smell of fresh horseshit
in the morning... nothing can beat it...
no perfume... no delight of a curry...
the smell of fresh horseshit in the morning...
or... spreading manure when planting baby
trees in the garden...
the butterflies were still there...
it didn't feel right: come again?
nothing ever feels right in all honesty...
although i lie: it does for a while...
probably like the fury when undertaking
the act of ******... it probably feels great...
*** also feels great in the act...
and when done properly...
a day... now two... afterwards... it still feels
quizzically good...
but just because there were still butterflies
in my stomach...
let's be honest...
i'm no Edward Lewis... maybe a Bradley Cooper
lookalike... ha... ha...
but no Richard Gere...
and she wasn't some Vivian Ward...
                                i cycle in the night for 35cl
of whiskey... he drives a Lotus...
a lawyer while over 'ere... some sort of a... poo'et...
reality check... what a fascinating take
on hyper-gamy...
                    i too liked  La traviata...
   (saw it at the st. petersburg opera house...
she wanted to see madame butterfly...
                    i insisted... bending of will)
although... this is some retelling...
   what poet wouldn't fall for a *******?
   - how's it going with ms. chaste over there
on the cockerel-carousel?
i never understood the mystique of...
not letting the lecher out during *******...
what "no kissing" rule?
why have i managed to kiss all the prostitutes
i've slept with... i lost count... i don't have
a number...

- but i have a fitting song to complete
the movie in my head...
faithless - woozy...

    - away from internet culture... eh... listening
to a book review of... HALSEY's poetry...
the bisexual experience... ****** men...
the trauma of having *** with a man...
i do hope they don't use ******...
that wouldn't be fair...

  and having *** with women is somehow...
not "traumatic"...
like that one time she was a timid *******
and i fed pearls to pigs
or rather wasted £120 on... touchy-feely bollocking
that left me feeling like castrated imp?!

listen 'ere... missy... what choice do some of us
*** "starved" when encountering ***?
i had to check my body...
itemize it to stop this... ****** cinema having
fun in my mind... all this daydreaming
where i really was the protagonist with
this... pristine nymphomaniac...
i said i wouldn't drink to save up for another
encounter: not going to happen...
i drink to write truthfully...
but i've cut down...

i said i wouldn't look at *******:
no films anyway... something akin
to the old tabloid: the Sun's page three...
three shakes of the fox's tail
and i turned into a premature *******
case...
from being an ******* dysfunction case
with a timid *****
to fully blossoming with a head pulsating
in the spectrum of purple:
i guess she really did tell me that
she owned my phallus when i moved my hands
to pretend force-feeding her:
she already did anyway...

how's that? the dark arts... i don't have any other
name for it...
*** of the *** "starved"...
while i'll be giving her another hour's worth
of drip... ******* so easily over...
let's me honest... thinking about a cow's ******
sack will not make a difference...
i still like milk...
   but... if i'm so ******* adamant on semi-:
feeding pearls to pigs...
i need to harden my body and my mind...
i can't have a cockerel for a mollusc...

           yes... because *** for men is not...
traumatic... perhaps in stable relationships
where both man and woman
can... pretend *** never existed...
at the supermarket i spotted these two chubby-loved-up
bundles of joy...
let's just pretend... *** has to translate back
into furthering genes... whatever the hell that means...
a good idea never seems to attach itself
to genes...
nothing biological came out of Newton...
perhaps it would be best
to aim at an ***... perhaps...

*** isn't "traumatic" for men...
  so bisexual women have to state that all *** with
men is ****?
**** inverted... a timid ***** that can't
give you a hard-on is like...
a barber who can't trim your beard...
or a dentist that can't ease your toothache...
for ****'s sake... am i not imprinting a
parody of 2 + 2 =  4?!
no... wait... last time i heard:
how do i manage to pick up these
bogus messages i don't know:
mathematics is racist...
well... let's all study algebra if arithmetic is
too soon... "too soon": to somehow also pretend
to spell...

among the Goliaths and the Nimrods
i have learned that...
sure... we're all supposedly literate...
but... for some people there's still no horizon
for... there's still no... chance for language
arriving at a spontaneous fluidity...
there's no horizon for...
  digression...       n'est ce pas?

the best **** turns out... i have to return to...
cycling... push-ups and stomach crunches...
drinking in moderation...
and once i've tested the waters and the dream
is finally over...
where i can **** myself off for... at least ten minutes
without teasing the prospect of an *******:
i'll be ready for another encounter:
as promised...
where she will show me her mouth: agape...
her wonders of her tongue...
her eyes glistening in her mania...

   funny how i was once diagnosed as psychotic...
well... a once upon a time... a...
nymphomaniac met up with
a Spartan psychotic and...
oh... they had a dozen children...
and these were the envy of Nox and Cerberus...
when that... ******* concept
came to its final fruition...

it's almost unbelievable how...
the most... tried and tested method of... "inquiry"
can become a put off for some...
but i know what this is worth...
the butterflies in my stomach:
the unblocking of the drain with the sight
of curling hairs and soap grime...
by comparison... her well attired body in cleanliness...
but for me... i need to harden my body...
i need to exercise...
and wait for my cockerel to recover
for pecking at the oyster...

that's how it is... esp. when not conscripted
into the army of the numbed heads of
male genital mutilation... circumcision...
of course she knew that she would pull it back
during *******...
but that i still have the sheath...
i don't have that ****-numbing luxury of
somehow being... brain dead enough
to have to compensate with...
hey! 3 ****** at a time!

- i can't just become a duracell bunny and have
a hard-on all the time...
recovery period...
after 4 years of "solo project" of projecting
fantasy... to come up with the reality...
it's not going to be... well... i had
a dream: although i sleep but am a dreamless
****... her name burning into my brain:

oddly enough... it's akin to the prophet
Muhammad's first wife... Khadija...
has she rolled in her grave long enough
to emerge as a ******* in a brothel?
i'll just wait for Muhammad to turn in his grave
and be called out as:
ambitious pseudo-Solomon...
i'll wait for that one...
although: i think the concept of reincarnation
is horrid: i.e. there are only a limited number
of true selves...

  the rest? zombies... dead once: dead again...
monstrous strap-ons of technological
advancement: suddenly running dry on the prospect /
need to procreate...
no? if everything is being automated...
who needs... i never liked reincarnation...
that concept of completely obliterating the faculty
of memory... it takes a second to conceive...
circa... 9 months for the tadpole to wriggle out...
about 4 years for any consciousness to arrive
armed with the faculty of memory...

reincarnation is like: a hyper-inflated take
on libido... or... something akin to...
the doppelganger...
but it's not like there isn't a push-back...
if actors could steal the shadows of people...
people steal the faces of actors
and associate them with... the crippling furores of
fame... once upon a time...
how were you known who...
so-and-so was... Richard the Lion-heart...
this freely available spread of the image...
once upon a time...
of greatness was never associated
with an immediacy of recognition...
oddly enough...

i suppose there's still more time, required...
to ponder this transition...
**** me... if i'm going back at a stab
with this nymphomaniac...
i need to harden my body...
my phallus can't be a mollusc...
i need my body tense...
so that when she does her... ***** tricks...
i'll be fit for an hour's worth...
if not to my pleasing:
then at least to hers...

      oh sure... only women find *** with
men traumatic...
only women have a voice in a democracy...
where's the ******* fire?!
where's that: a face that sent a thousand ships
toward old Priam's gates?

obvious there's a sieving process...
i like a sieving process...
those that arrive... those that: don't arrive...
those that are late... and those...
that are... always late...
perfectly simple...

           i need a second encounter with my nymph...
i need to crease these meanings...
i need for my sight to turn all blurry
and my hearing to fade out...
a gurgling snigger of a boar...
        a sound of an animal almost drowning
in a swamp of its own ****...

the *** was great... but the aftermath...
well... if i were in a closeted, stable... relationship...
none of this would have happened...
i wouldn't be writing like this, or even:
about this...
there are some journalistic columns... funded...
properly paid... of the higher sort of "peoples"
describing visits to... Parisian ******...
like... affairs were: solid steel... Lego-building encounters...
but me and these ****** is suddenly...
what? decrepit moi?
    degenerate moi?
                  self-deprecating humour comes...
allied with... a self-moralistic accusation-al mandate...

it's trivial overtly-worded *******...
but it does... sometimes...
turn my heart of a pebble's worth of a throw into
a... soft... fleshy... essentiality of...
the plethora of doubts... and negations...

        yes... a night well invested in...
                                      came the time for hardening
the body...
to later hope of relaxing it with another
encounter: for the vain hopes in all of existence...
her face is still unknown to me...
it too immediately contorts into
her manic circus of arriving at pleasures:
conversations will never give.
i just remembered when it all began to fall apart i was in mid-thirties weary of taking advantage of women i wanted to change grow become better person more compassionate find loving respectful relationship maybe marriage i knew i needed to step away stop

chicago 1985 Odysseus is a stranger to himself living someone else’s life does he really want what Mom Dad Chris want? is he lying to everyone else or himself? he snorts another line of ******* moves on to next girl in dizzy way he is having time of his life so much occasion to waste doors to open slam rooms to pass through “In the room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions” thank you t.s. elliott his ****** liaisons carry on from several weeks to several months begin with him adoring some girl or she adoring him little fires that burn themselves out for his part infidelity is rarely in question instead typically he or she feels let down by some personal response or character trait and simply stops calling in actuality no girl ever bothers to stick around they follow his lead and evaporate his mind draws a blank he wonders what do girls want? Deep inside he knows nothing in life is greater than the love of a woman he would have liked all those girls to be just one girl but she is missing where is she? occasionally he will run into one of his ex-lovers on street she wears an expression that hints why didn’t you phone me back? why did you stop calling? he suspects she is playing victim in self-satisfying charade in fact Odysseus crosses into new territory it is difficult to go back he hones his edge no longer is he wonder-stuck child possessed by curiosity for girls he requires **** and kink longer buildups then urgent bursts of effort drawn out climaxes nameless girl wearing tight jeans cowboy boots braids whom he meets in drake hotel elevator pushes stop button she ***** him off he has **** *** with tan-skinned french-canadian female tourist in telephone booth on north avenue gorgeous longhaired creole girl from new orleans ***** him on fire escape stairs **** *** with skinny punk girl in dark alley dutch foreign exchange student gives him ******* between parked cars on clark street weird awkward *** with goth girl in graveyard ****** by older blond woman who positioning herself underneath table in ritzy restaurant he has *** with chatty college sorority girl in jet lavatory he goes down on nerd girl wearing thick glasses in criticism section of depaul’s library he gets ****** ****** by perfect stranger in lake michigan each evening before he goes out prowling he looks in mirror wonders what strange female he will have *** with tonight it always surprises him what a person might not admit to or accept but allow or give in to if the right moment or if the right person is there not that he is particularly the right person rather he stumbles onto an astonishing streak there is the paris/milantokyo fashion model with stylish french haircut who possesses astonishing beauty perfect ***** and haughty temper after night of too many ***** martinis and ******* she announces “you and your friends are going nowhere  you’re all second-rate artist losers! and your cousin and his group are obnoxious *******” she flips him the finger then shoves him he shoves back resulting in dual arrests and domestic violence charges there is the tall blond stripper who totally fulfills his ****** desires once she lets him insert garden hose up her **** laughs uproariously as stream of water shoots out on another occasion she requests he *** in her *** he begins to believe he will marry her she insists she is too low class for his family one night she drunkenly hurls champagne bottle gives him black eye drives away crashes her car there is blue-eyed sweetheart with divine ****** loving touch who after months of sleeping with Odysseus confesses she is ******* some other guy and swears she will be faithful in the future she begs for his forgiveness as he loses it pushes her out door throwing her clothes after her one girl lights candles gives him full body massage ******* another girl holds him tight cries pushes him away one girl writes confessions with permanent markers on walls of closet another girl slaps him yells why? why why why! one girl runs to toilet pukes passes out on floor another girl sits up all night talking teasing never relieving him another girl falls asleep snores while he is in conversation one girl makes fun of small left ******* later gossips to her girlfriends he meets girl who will do anything except allow him to enter her ****** he meets girl who is professional escort she offers to do him for free she has lots of toys videos he declines they mess around she gets him off with ******* he meets girl whose ***** hair grows to mid-thigh she incessantly calls for her dog Bertram! he meets girl who shivers moans furiously cries laughs when he climaxes he meets girl with self-inflicted scars on arms legs who only wants it up her **** he meets girl who likes gagging deep-******* him to skull-**** her harder the better he meets girl whose ******* are so fierce she loses complete control drenching him sheets with her fluids excrement he meets girl who wants ******* squeezed so tightly he fears he will draw blood he meets girl who likes to talk ***** slaps his face as he is reaching ****** he meets girl with gargantuan ***** ******* as large as thumb she gurgles hot breaths later tries to steal string of beads he meets girl who enjoys lactating on his thighs while she gives him head he meets girl who knows how to contract vaginal muscles so tightly all he does is sustain ******* inside her in order to reach ****** he meets girl who pees tiny squirts while he penetrates her **** she laughs wildly he meets girl with furry mound who requests he **** on her as she masturbates he declines she reproaches him accusing you’re not nearly as freethinking as you pretend to be in fact you’re full of ****! he meets girl who wants him to act out **** they struggle he meets girl who desires to be ******* whipped he is not into inflicting pain he meets large strong girl who forces him he never tells anyone about incident he becomes mindful many females are more depraved than him women remain puzzle to Odysseus he is repeatedly astounded shocked can never predict about girl what her ******* ****** will look like whether she has eager *** or what are her secret desires he is explorer women are vast mystery he wonders are females as sexually driven as males? are they as vulnerable? is their **** like tiny *****? he speculates if completely unknown attractive woman walks up to any average man grabs his crotch many possibly most men will willingly allow it are women that weak? more than anything what most excites Odysseus is female lust handjobs are test of adequacy distinguishing character having masturbated thousands of times he thrills in having girl do it he delights in watching her arousal just staring at his ******* is captivated by method of her fingers hands revitalized by degree of her determination throughout he needs to ****** her ******* ****** *** titillated as she licks lips after swallowing ***** he realizes if he were female he would be total nymphomaniac yet he finds it difficult to imagine desiring men are all so like him women are so strange fascinatingly different he craves their otherness Odysseus loves women more than they love themselves smell sight of them sends him into frenzy problem is he fears their power over him

it’s been 25 years since those days i live alone for many years in tucson arizona have not been with a woman for long long time last relationship 2001 with crack ***** i hang my head cry wish for love wonder do i deserve to be loved pray to be forgiven
I am a nymphomaniac.
I'm not really but it got your attention.
I bet I nearly gave all reading a cardiac.
I have to make bold statements now, as I have a condition called,
"Black Glasses" and no one makes passes at ladies in glasses.
As you can see from my updated pic, I'm all about geek chic now!
© JLB
21/09/2014
23:05 BST
Ugo Feb 2012
1.
Nymphomaniac-addicts,
Overweight bisexual vegetarians
Climbing trees to stay fit
and eating 80’s fried chicken *******

2.
just imagine
Aquarians full of class valedictorians
Swimming on display for graduation ceremony…
reverse-symbolism of how Moolch drowned His *****

3.
Better yet, just imagine
Holy wars,
Beautiful words written to describe the burning pains
Of holocaust...the Kristallnacht nights
Under the mistletoe,
Watching Hall of fame ball hawks on pivot toes
Driving through hoes
After the whistle blows

4
College Literacy classes teaching basic:
Ideas that good questions leads to good answers,
Reading reminders
Free association conceptual constructions

5.
But *******’ professor:
free association **** shticks
misfires, false alarms
are all art, too,
Like sticking a dagger into an apple,
Not the edible, but the technology.

6.
Go head, deconstruct the philosophy
Of oral cute-tification,
according to the Tautology of Leviticus,
With the same three half truths, pogroms
against biological deviant... FLAGS!

7.
Cryptic gospels of a *******
Where three F.F.F’s
Stands for six six six
Like how 1mg of juxtaposition
And a dose of metamorphosis
is the repertoire of a king of curmudgeon
‘cause even the Holy Ghost
drinks from the cup of Christ’s blood.

8.
Reading,
Self-flagellation gospel-manual of Pope John Paul II,
At shrink sessions under the daze of heron Piper methysticum blunts
With sweet phat butts like lit lickerish that droop eyes
Like the psalm of Valeriana officinalis root extract.
Simon Obirek Jun 2015
Cancer, Cancer, Cancer
I know you well,
we go a long way back
you wanted to **** my mum,
starting with her *******,
and then fondling my dad's *****,
wrecking homes wherever you go.
Who's next?

We build rays to keep you out
what are you all about?
You like those children, too, you pervert.
Cysts, cysts, cysts,
he who will be kissed,
will be missed.
Who's next?

People blow on your cigarettes
while you **** the life out of them,
cutting their hair off, sending off moans.
Listen to their groans.
Why do you wanna see their bones?
Who's next?
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
They called her an attention ***** for the last time
As she put the gun to her stomach and pulled the trigger.

The fat girl
The bipolar girl
The depressed girl
The nymphomaniac
The airhead blonde
The discarded cheerleader
The broken hearted

The girl who cuts
The girl who cries
The girl who has a eating disorder
The girl who can't help herself
The girl who is always alone
The girl who gets yelled at
The girl who always gets *****

She just wanted love
But this is all she has

She has a cheating boyfriend
She has a horrible father
She has an abusive mother
She has a shattered heart
She has a numb mind
She has a lost hope
She has a sharp knife
She has a loaded gun

I'm sure they just wanted attention. I'm sure they were perfectly fine.
I'm sure they didn't need the helping hand. I'm sure they're just overreacting.

I'm sure she's dead. I'm sure you don't really care.
//On friendship and compassion//
My tribute to all the "attention ******" out there that people hate.
Aa Harvey Jul 2018
Magic Stardust Nymphomaniac


This is simply my way of telling you,
My love for drugs has left me lost; but now I see through.
Deep into your soul I see in you,
All of the things I need for a love so true.
Unhappy not to have been here sooner; to aid you.


Give me love and take all of mine;
It belongs only to you, love of time.
Love of now and forever?  This is not my,
Future to know; maybe my destiny to behold.  I pray.


For in your eyes I see only love;
In your words I hear only trust.
Tempting, but scary; paranoia caused by drugs.
Temporary insanity, fades away to say goodbye to us.


If I lose you before I hold you, then I cannot just smile
And say she was just another girl, for I know myself to be a liar.
Set my soul on fire and burn all my hopes and dreams;
Sacrifice my trust to you I shall, if you would only beg it of me.


Complete devotion?  Are you ready?
Showing every possible emotion?  This is not easy.
But in you I see Heaven, so please tell me I belong to you;
Tell me your love belongs only to me and I shall always stay true.


I shall never need to leave, if you give me all I need;
I shall always need only you and a joint of ****.
My need for ****, is a part of me;
Like the funky *** beat,
My heart dances to when you are here to give me release.


It’s happy, it’s ecstatic, it’s jumping back flips in the sea;
Like a dolphin, swimming circles of celebration, or feeling ****.
My heart wants to be with yours, entwined in love and magic;
It has already been bruised and broken, its story is tragic.
But in you I see something, unlike any other;
You shine so bright and blind this brother.
All I see is you, all else fades away;
To be cast away or saved for another day.


Talk to me in a minute, I have found Heaven and I need it within;
To see me through this life of mine, because I can’t live without.
So inside out, I believe, I doubt,
I wish, I lust, I could maybe love;
If she could only ever speak the truth to me and truly love…
Me.  That’s all I ask.
Stay faithful and love me;
Then I shall always love you, my Magic Stardust Nymphomaniac.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
if i was a girl i wouldn’t shave i’d be a tomboy ballerina with upper body muscles maybe a **** or surfer girl smell a little subtle i’d be tough learn to take a punch but i’d also be fragile sensitive intelligent i’d dress down like female ducks gray beige brown yet wear thongs boots bikinis heals girl stuff if i was a girl i’d be freaked out by ******* and even more freaked out by menopause depressed i lost my wetness if i was a girl i’d flash *** crotch drive boys wild be a complete nymphomaniac **** until i found the right guy he’d be strong gentle patient caring with a cute ***** i don’t care how big if i was a girl i’d learn to give blow jobs really good acquire a taste for ***** and play that skill as my trump card if i was a girl i’d find a job roll up my sleeves be a hard worker impress my managers become a manager quit i would find another type of work maybe a writer painter if i was a girl i wouldn’t compete with men i’d simply be more creative smarter if i was a girl i’d want to give birth as scary profound as that might be i’d want to be a mom a nurturing loving attentive mom i’d garden cook sew clean stand by my man my children devoted to home and hearth if i was a girl i’d cry a lot but not in front of anyone if i was a girl i wouldn’t want to become an old woman surrounded by other old women taking care of sick old men or no old men if i was a girl i’d want to die instantly in an accident or in bed reaching ****** age 82 if i was a girl
Pretty rich girl, softly dreaming, 
a woman is so newly waking
no use at all for dad’s financing, 
consumed by flesh that is desiring 
of wanton flows that force such rousing
to be taken far from here for using 
by men unfazed by city counting.

Then sudden blackness o’erwhelming, 
all sound and vision swiftly clouding
strong arms unseen and grasping 
to sweep her off her feet and making
sense of ropes around her tight’ning, 
with her arms together jerking
forcing back to ankles spreading
with ballgag muffled screaming 
she should now be strongly fighting 
instead there is a wild arousing.

Stripping cutting all that’s hiding 
until she’s held quite naked finding
that there’s a hood that’s closing 
round her head and isolating
from any sense of air that’s cooling
and rampant need that’s now arising
she feels excitement in so being
where she feels no fear abiding.

Put down hard after easy lifting
a lid above her slamming
the sound of engine starting 
spinning wheels now are speeding 
bound in dark she’s left a-lieing 
with mouth that gives no screaming
instead a wet arousal finding 
knowing of her inner needing.

****** rising almost blinding 
fighting, writhing, needing tying 
her tortured form now pounding
forcing every sinew twisting
with such unsought pleasure giving 
this wanton **** who has such thinking
of brutal taking and ill using
by men she should be hating.

How could juices start their flowing 
as crude hands began their probing 
carrying to places far unknowing.
Rough voices talking of their doing, 
arguing ransoms for demanding
then finding her with wet arousing 
cruel laughing at her needing
until there comes a sweet dividing 
of her eager self though darkening
roughly forcing them by wanting 
that she is newly there for taking
captors now in forced confronting.

There can now be no disguising 
that this is life not fantasizing 
these coarse brutes so crudely using
think they’re forcing her submitting 
now she wants them by satisfying 
her every silent wanton needing 
of each to feed obscene desiring.

An iron bed prepared for keeping 
till the time of ransom paying 
fully tight is now her strapping
legs apart, wide spreadeagling
ignoring all her protests mewling 
but her bucking body thrusting 
makes her needing so enticing
till they give her what she’s wanting.

There is now for each unseen taking
a welcoming and wet demanding 
so there can be no inflicting 
that but which is urgent wanting
opening each hole for filling 
not once or twice but oft repeating
taking turns in fully using 
till they are all quite lost in spending.

With captive bound there’s no sating 
screaming begging ne’er abating 
always there is more demanding 
screaming all despite her gagging
each time her body hits climaxing
fighting , dragging now and forcing 
wearied jailers for more pleasuring
ignoring all their worn protesting
incessant in her primal wanting
who is using whom in this not knowing
when captors should be really scaring
but they have never known such needing
standing round and jointly fearing
of chewing less than was their biting
with this nymphomaniac in bareing.

Words in anger, muffled voicing 
some with reason in conferring
then a quick release of bindings 
a body hot for blanket wrapping 
with a fiesty female grappling
cursing now her wild desiring
yet unstilled with needy struggling
tossed in the car for rapid driving 
some miles back by unknown routing
while in the trunk much banging
till on daddy’s doorstep dumping 
ransom now in quick forgetting
as captors with relief escaping
while pretty rich girl leans back smiling
anticipating her next kidnapping.


From my Francesca Anderssen Poetry collection: **** Verse (Amazon)
I have written novels and verse about the interaction between lovers, and consensual activities that form the rich tapestry of living and loving between people who care about each other.

I Hope you like my thoughts.
Tell me if you do---or don't.
Criticism is my lifeblood
The complete book of **** Verse by  Francesca Anderssen (101 ***** poems) is on Amazon in kindle and paperback,

together with my ****** **** novel "Need". also available on amazon
The idea seemed like all my others genius why think  it through
had my parents ?
**** no if it wasnt for wild turkey  loud music wild women and
bad desiscions   gonzo wouldnt be here.
Thanks for being a party girl mom.

We had gotten hitched  i always said if i found a woman
who could out drink me under the table was smokin hot  and meaner than a rattle snake and would actully have *** with me without charging.
I would make my wife.

From the moment Skeeter had stepped into my life and said hey what
the ******* lookin at ***** ?
I knew that pint size ******* was the one.

And finally after my in house arrest and her brief vacation in Rikers was up we finally  tied the knott  and got married  but enough with the foreplay  children.

Like two insane people  with a shared thought.
The first night was outstanding the second even better she was like a
hot female  version of me.
A teenage hellcat who should have been busted for filling out that sweater  thank god for citezens arrest.

The first  week flew by Ya think we can everday?
My dear  if you just put your mind to it  and some other parts.
I know we  can.
Yes  to have a dream  and to be horney with someone
who shares  the same  dream is a wonderful thing.
Till you have to slip her roofies to get some sleep.
I knew thoose pills would come in handy  than for
just having them for  blind dates.

Although Ive learned your supposed to not take them also.
Then its just awkward waking up looking to the other person
saying hey  what happend and why are we in the burger king rest room?

After a few weeks i learned why people  actully spoke to each  other
and had these thing's called conversations.
I learned my Skeeter   loved halloweeen  for how could she not with so many costumes.
And she had a a real passion for law inforcement  with all the handcuffs  and tazers  a couple badges  a cop car  hmm makes me
wonder could it be yes your right.
People  really get carried away playing dungeons and dragons.

The first month was great the second made me rethink taking vitamins  she reminded of a  hamster in a wheel runnng without stop
just taking breif breaks  to hit the bottle  of Jack  Daniels
I miss working the pet store.

Leaving the house to  stagger to the bar  myself worn like a
a cheap motels matress.
Skeeter glowing like a neon sign if a neon sign were prone to random acts of violence.
Speaking sweet  nothing's to each other  like I love you sugar ,
did you hide the bullwhip ?  And hey wake up you drunk ******.

Her eye's  a work of true beauthy  that read  **** with me
and i'll knock your **** in the dirt   or light you on fire
ahh romance  it is grand and slightly dangerous and painful at times.

The night alive the drinks flowing  the waitress  a attractive  yet
soon to be mauled victem  of a five three spitfire.
The paper read of something i belive they call them numbers
dam you davinnci code.

Befor I could  down the wild turkey order four more and say in the name of Bono.
She sprang from her seat like a  miniture ninja leaping over the bar.
tackling the woman who had angred my mighty banshee.

the fight was epic and i did what any good red  bloodedand whiskey fueled pervert  would do I sat there and cheered on this cat fight.
get her honey it was a true sitght to be seen  hair being pulled
clothes being ripped off  okay i added that one.

And as a voice echoed over the crowd that said
hey who is that  hot crazy *****.
I turned  to the  man pointed saying  look its raining  
*****   and Adam Lambert  oddly enough he looked.

the sucker punch was fast hard and hurt like a son of
a *****  sorry but thats not just any hot insane horney carzy *****
thats my  teenage nymphomaniac  homicidle costume collecting halloween loving demon with a touch of sweetness wife.

The cops had arrived  but strangley enough Skeeter knew them all by
name.
Im starting to belive she might have a thing for tazers.
The questions flew around sir what caused this and why are you not wearing any pants.

She was in a rant so like any semi sober man  I decicded to set her straight  well  kinda.
And you!
I cant belive you take her number  the rage filling within her
building like a volcano  of pint sized sexiness mean chicks
are hot.

Well  honey I ment to tell ya mid flight  that was the bar tab.
Suprize.

And after i awoke from acoma  my hellcat in my hospital bed
I looked from a black eye saying skeeter  i love you more
with every day that does pass.
To which my teenage ******  replyed good.
God cause if ya didnt Gonzo id have to kick your drunken semi sane long winded  ***.
Dedicated to the real life Skeeter  who's probaly going to **** me
It's been nice knowing you all.
Im kidding I'll do what i always do when in danger run and scream like a girl.

Love ya Skeeter  
Always Gonzo
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
i once attested that... you can't a better barber... than a Turkish barber... for a while i thought that Romanian girls made great company... Copernican revision (almost): perhaps i just found me a Turkish gem... a delight from some mythical period of the height of the Ottoman empire...

nope, they're still here... that swarm of butterflies...
with Nabokov giving chase...
although there's no taboo about borderline
mature girls to talk about...
that one instance with my ex's sister when
i first saw her... absolutely gone...
             of a more refined taste...
                       she's 32: i tell her she looks like
she's 28 she says she feels like so and...
what else am i going to call this feeling...
heightened digestive anxiety...
    diarrhoea?
                    well it's certainly not constipation...
funny how: this is almost love...
it's not... it's just the aftermath of the best
*** i've had since... i was having *** / *******
with my fantasy goggles on...
it took me several years to get over
the supposed "best ****" i was ever going to get...
a Russian by the name of Ilona...
yes... brilliant... that night before i was to leave
st. petersburg we had one of those...
7 hour marathons... as you do... since it's st. petersburg
in the summer and you have those
famous white nights of st. petersburg because
you're really close to the polar circle...
so... you can't sleep... and what's there to do?
chess, drink... books?!
- i never thought i could get over it...
until... Khada... or Khadiya... or...
i've heard the name several times, now...
i even wrote it down and showed it to her...
but when i heard it again...
she... almost silences the last letters...
   Khaadaya...           to hell with it...
i already almost can't remember her face...
and it has only been since: yesterday...
  but then... i somehow remember it... yet...
its contorting... it's... a mouth open showing me
her tongue... it's her most certainly fire-riddling auburn...
maybe mahogany...
a light shade of that wood...
most certainly a van morrison song...
although: not so much freedom in running around
with a transistor radio...
or it's just that i can't remember her face
because... there's so much immediacy involved
in all that happens during *******...
the face stretches through many contortions...
all those vowels and hardly any consonants
that might allow for lip-reading...
- maybe it has something to do with seeing
Christian Eriksen collapse live on the pitch...
my bets were on: dead... thunderstuck...
i just had to feed life a bone a muscle some sinew
flesh, **** and tongue...
in between hard-ons throughout the day:
no hand! hell... i wasn't even remotely going to
give myself such an easy escape...
too much "thinking": reimagining all the details...
ol' raven haired woman of Anatolia...
i tried to compose a list of songs to fit
with my emotions...
the cliches ran after i listened to...
spirit's when i touch you...
all of nine inch nails' pretty hate machine...
something from the hellraiser soundtrack...
now i'm sipping a straight pimm's i "stole"
and am listening to the obvious:
the eagles' witchy woman &
cliff richard's devil woman...
      funny how... love is *** first... for any man...
or best be...
i can't handle some choicest of fiddly parts
of... eh... the criteria of a "good mother"?
a good wife?
                    all this pre-planning ******* of
the modern man... boxed life-on-loan anyway...
in her own words:
'i'm a killer'... oddly enough:
i couldn't read any malice in her eyes...
like i said to her when she asked me what do i see
in them...  e-very-th-ing...
the good and the bad...
   when i see her again... i'm already gagging...
choking myself with these *******
butterflies... i'll tell her what she is...
   a NYMPH...
sometimes i'd come across these sad sad prostitutes...
they'd thank me for my tenderness
and tell me i was a good man...
two or three close calls with veteran women...
but never... a... ******* NYMPHOMANIAC!
like she didn't care about all she was going to
gorge on...
a slap on the tongue and all that...
ooze O OH! all that ooze of... a feline serpentine...
right now... no such "thing" as:
"too much of a good thing... can't be good"...
any movement in reality is a joke...
i'm a poo'et that can't make a living off of the trade
and she's a *******...
that she sleeps with other men doesn't bother me...
i just like the she is when she sleeps with me:
other men are abstract as with them she's: a she...
i can almost imagine myself living in ancient Rome...
fathering *******...
being a good foster father figure...
being really... really liberal classically about...
what's mine and what's not...
i posit the idea above genes...
                         i posit the idea above genes...
an illuminating splinter on a night sky...
a joyous smile...
a glistening: ****** expression of staging being...
ASTOUNDED...
i.e.: what the **** just happened?!
m'ah head exploded and i'm still without any
obligations to make concrete sacrifices
to state: this be love that be commitment...
          she's a killer... like hell: she's a man-eater...
i was just ******* a "caricature" of a mantis...
                      at £2 per minute... am i going to listening
to some more... winging that *** is a chore?
thank god no!
HEAD LIKE A HOLE... HEAD LIKE A HOLE...
i was so *** starved for the past 4 years
that the whole #metoo movement passed me by...
with her i'm at loss to even explore being
bored with ***...
to explore alternative avenues
with latex and gimp suits and ******...
so... frankly... it's still somehow wholesome...
proper kosher...
i would never want *** to become boring:
i rather starve and not have: and then have it...
sanely... than have to double up on fetishes
and escape plans to being:
i am addicted to the idea of two bodies colliding...
coercing... moulding each other...
today's international football was...
        oh yes... that grand brotherhood of man...
also some sparring in boxing in Paris for the olympic
games between amateur boxers...
if my stomach is filled with butterflies...
my brain is a custard of wriggling maggots...
while my heart remains a stone...
no ulterior motive... thank god...
thank god i've escaped the fantasy land
of performance art of *******...
i'll gladly leave that boney-****-imitation of the hand
behind: i'd chop it off if i was:
doubly left-handed...
but i'm not... and i need some balance when i
type missing typos...
     grr...
              pimm's: too sweet... i'll need a beer or two
to put my palette straight...
mein gott: what an afternoon...
the crab bucket will be screaming right about now...
oh i know the crab bucket **** list...
why not me? why am i not wearing his shoes...
crab bucket my ***...
when i left the brothel there was still
agonised girl screaming into the mobile about
commitment...
oh welcome night... some depeche mode?
please do... and if i feel like this after tomorrow's harrowing
bicycle round-and-round...
i'll most surely feel better:
besides...
only this Friday journalists unearthed previously
unpublished poems... ahem... "poems"
by none other than... Jim Morrison...
rock star... *** god.. lyricist...
ah... there we go... LYRICIST...
i abhor lyricism...
       i have only one excuse for minding lyricism:
the music tends to be louder than the lyrics...
the bass guitar is somehow audible...
check out Metallica...
two... three songs when you can actually
hear it... the devil's dance...
but... otherwise... all primarily rhythm & solo guitars...
drums and lyrics...
rhyme: rhyme my *** with has...
                 that i have one...
oh boy... when i'm dead... when i'm dead:
and this is how i wrote...
it doesn't matter: what i wrote: about...
although... maybe that too...
     too much airy ******* fairy akin to...
verbatim:
    december isles
  hot morning chambers
of the new day
idiot first to awaken (be born)
w/shadows of new play
learned men
in Sunday best
we've had our chance to rest
to mourn the passing of day
to lament the death of our
glorious member
  (she whispers secret messages
of love in the garden
to her friends, the bees)
the garden would be there
forevermore...

am i the only one who... doesn't want to...
reengage with some... variation of a "loss"
of innocence?
i want the *** on display thick splodges
of worn limps... gearing up to a wedding with
death: a second birth...
and all that "filth" in between...
i want... the whole... experience...
like a seagull chick... FEED ME...
i want to turn my mouth into an eye
and my eyes into mouths...
i want to become a monstrosity...
a gargantuan take on butter...
  i want to overflow in the sick and the sweat
and marble of all that's human...
to hell with being a child...
inherently cruel...
an untrained bladder...
              at least the games of *** and informal
cordiality...
nothing sinister since no latex
or gimp suits invoked...
just kosher: *** deprived ***...

& in between ******* a pull of the chin
to explore those lips and tongue with
my lips and tongue...
ol' raven hair of Anatolia...

- on a canopy of ****-rod soft-core
girlies with nothing to do but pose naked
and dangle a latex ***** for
for some lap-dog...
       slurp...
                     i had to dig to the deepest
core of imitation Dante...
i needed to find me a nymphomaniac...
to escape the...
what's it called...
the subversion of men... of nullifying men...
of... sedating men...

i'm 6ft2... 218 pounds of Otis Redding's worth
of love man...
some other time... 260 pound worth of
a chunk of beef...
            slimming girl... just slimming:
for all the tenderness i want to give...
i'd be a gladiator in some other time and reference
of space... now i'm fighting pseudo-intellectuals
and the crab-bucket...
****'s sake...
but i'm still armed with a giggle...
so it's: just aye-alright...

correct me if i'm wrong... all that inheritance...
i'm not going to pet an anglo-saxon woman
and her thesis on anti-racism...
erm... ha ha!
                  when a black loved up to a black woman...
when a ol' whitey cuddled up to a...
Turkish delight... or a Thai surprise...
ha!
                             it's a black toddler one you can
fiddle with the afro...
while it tempts your torso being a make-shift bed...
how can you just kick a dog...
how can you not love such bundles of...
the antithesis of an exoskeleton?

how jazz, soul, rhythm & bass degenerated into...
rap synth...
because... it's not exactly even rap these days:
is it?
well... it's hardly that you... didn't see it coming...
god... loving this girl when she mingles with
me drinking alone is doubly exhausting:
because the reality of going forward
is forever an impasse...
a brick wall... take care... concentrate on
the undying emotion: right now...
focus on the butterlies:
on the hypersensitive digestive system...
it's not diarrhoea: it's just your digestive system
working overtime...

i'm in love: but not for keeps...
for illumination...
hammer met up with nail...
out came two planks of wood stuck together...

- just like i can't stomach: on repeat...
i don't own these anglo-saxon women...
there's not grand brotherhood of man...
i don't want to be trapped in some guilt riddled
libido game where she showcases herself
on some... vague: moral stand-off posit...
i'll just go where something is better: & available...

beginning with Romanian, perhaps just
ending with Turkic...
    to hell with these striptease in straitjackets...
how's that for... ahem... "lyricism":
oh, wait... lyricism doesn't appreciate
concrete punctuation / prepositional riddled
language...

one more night with a ***** movie in my mind
where i'm somehow, "somehow" the star...
mein gott: how she slapped that phallus
on her tongue...
how she's... completely involved in nothing
sensible...
how i despise old age:
how i'd sooner stab myself in the neck,
throw myself off a bridge... tame drowning...
anything to heighten the erotica than...
die off... slowly ******* neglected...
right now: spontaneously...
i'd bring a knife and ask her to finish me off:
but of course... i'm shy of ******* her a dozen
times...

none of the leather of neglect:
all her parts being so, so... jaw-like...
mandible...
oh look... what a hallow night...
the moon is here... all horned...
the constellations are in place...
but there are still those roaming stars that...
shouldn't be here...

i will now welcome sleep.
David Leger Aug 2014
Her lips against my skin,
My hand caressing her ****** thighs,
This night where I am within her.

I'll bleed my passion into her depths,
As she ***** the breath from my lungs,
And the tides that bring her ecstasy,
The still night is broken as she cries joy.
A tribute to the Nightwish song of the same name.  Experimenting with eroticism.

— The End —