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david badgerow Nov 2011
6:43am
My blankets are so warm,
it's like being buried beneath a bear.
My mattress is a cocoon made of bread.
6:44am
The world does not exist.
I am in a black hole.
6:45am
bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk
and I am no longer suspended in time, space.
I am in the world.
I am of the world.
6:46
I emerge from beneath my bear.
My mattress crumbles beneath me.
I lumber toward the bathroom.
Time to ****.
Poetic T Feb 2017
All he wanted was a sunny day but those
clouds would just not go away.
He asked them politely;

"Excuse me sirs and madams  please would
you move away just for this one day,


You may ask the difference of clouds?
the madam clouds are purely white they
some times rain a little upon my head.

Where the sirs are the moody grey clouds,
I asked them to leave and now I'm soaked from
my tiny toes below to every part of my head.

"I beg your pardon, why did you only rain on
this one spot, only soaking me and no one else?


So I thought of a plan and got my mummy's
fan pointing it towards the sky, I turned it on
I thought it would take a while.
                                                      
   ­                                                     "A while later,

I looked up to find more clouds then there was
before? was it because I only used Number one?
so I turned up to the highest Number 3.
                                                        
     ­                                                        "A while later,

A look of confusion! as there seemed to be no
movement, but again more than before.
"Mummy I think your fan works in reverse,

So a little man thought, to his toy box he went.
Mummy I'll just be in the back garden, the wind
was blowing blustery, he smiled, its was just right.

Pointing his trusty bow upwards, thinking that
if he could pop one after another, they would
whoosh away and he would get his sunny day.

Away it flew, upward and onwards, so high
like a little bird flying then it fell faster than a
leaky balloon "Bonk, it went as it hit the floor.

This little man with frustration on his face,
thinking thoughts of what went wrong?
"I know I need to get higher up, clouds are high you know,

How many arrows would I need for a sunny day,
he looked in his arrow pack.
"One,
           "Two,
                    "Three..

That was enough he thought, they were quite heavy
to take up that rather big hill. Off he went, bow and
arrows and his idea of a sunny day not far away.

Out of breath but at the top of the world or so
it felt. "I wonder if I can touch the clouds?
His hand reaching up standing on his tip toes.

"I could pull them away, or put them in my bag for another day,
But alas he was just out of reach, his fingers couldn't
stretch that far, even on his little tippy toes.

So his arrows in hand, there little suction cups pointing
towards the sky. The first arrow off it flew quite far but landed
so way down the hill. "Not high enough, a tear in his eye.

Then Number two, Number Three shot off higher than
the ones he let go of before. But none could reach those
clouds up high, and he cradled his hand and began to cry.

Now the wind hears everything, voices carry on the wind
you know. It heard this little boys tears and couldn't let
them fall like the clouds anymore.

So it whispered to each one a favour it asked,

"Clouds of white, clouds of grey, could you please
wonder to another place for an hour or day?


"Just let this little child have his sunny day, no tears
should fall like the clouds hanging up today,


With that a gentle breeze picked up, and one by one the
clouds did wander off. One was stubborn grey, but with
a gentle nudge he did move slowly off and away.

A gust of wind kissed the boys face. Eyes wiped he looked up,
not a cloud in the sky, nope not one.Smiling he ran collecting
his bow & arrows as he ran down.

"Mummy, Mummy, the clouds have wondered off
the fan didn't work? my arrows couldn't go high enough.
But the breeze kissed them all away.


And so a little boy and his mummy went outside,
playing games in the sun, till the sun began to yawn  
on the horizon telling mummy it was time nearly for bed.

So a little man was tucked up in bed, he thanked the
wind, "Thank you, and thanked the clouds "Thank you,
For he got to play with his mummy outside on a sunny day.
Paula Swanson Jul 2010
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

Plink..plinkplink...flip, *****, ****, plink.
Donk, donkdonk, plink, doink, ****.
Flipflap..****, plinkplink, doink.
Doink, doinkdoink, whirrrrrr, buzzzzzzzz ****.

"Oh ****".

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

Plink, doinkbink, flipflap, bink.
Twirrrrrrrrtwirrrrrrrr, twirrrrrrr *****.
flipflap.....clunk

"Oh....Man"!

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

P­linkplinkboinkdoink...flip...bonk shhhupduuuup.
****, doink, *****, shuuuup.
plink, ploinkploink, **** doink.
booooouuuuupboooooouuuup...*****
flipflap...clunk

"Shoot"­!

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

plinkplinkplinkplink, doink flipflap, bonk, *****, twirrrrrr.
doink, *****, bonk, wuuuuuup, twirrrrrr, puurrrrrrrr.
plink, ploink, doinkdoink, purrrrrrrr, shuuuuupshuuuup
plinkplinkplink, doink, flip, doink, flip, trrrruuuuurrrrp.

"YES"!  (shakes machine)

TILT!  TILT! TILT!

"NOooooooooo"!
Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010
I've got a Chopper,
You can have ****** ******* with it if you like
It's got a trug, a Jew's harp that rattles the windows
And creatures to make it mosey around crack
I'd stretch jeans cheesecake abutting you if I could, but I used plastic toast

You're the kind of ***** that thrusts into *** my bodiliness
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags

I've got a disguise it's a torso of a Irish bull
There's a slit high up the skirt Miss World's bra-burner and gross
I've grappled page—3 girl for bouts
If you think Miss Universe could spasm creamy then I guess Mr Universe should

You're the kind of ***** that slides in with my wads
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags

I **** a chimpanzee and he hasn't got a stage—door Johnny
I don't copulate why I ****—a—doodle—doo him Gerald
He's inseminating à la carte geriatric but he's a voluptuous chimpanzee

You're the kind of ***** that stuffs *** my gallons
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags

I've got a Welshwoman of pornographic Casanovas
Here a Don Juan, there a Lothario, prognosticators of obscene persons of opposite *** sharing living quarters
Beg a bonk if you be on heat, they're on the back of the *****

You're the kind of ***** that spasms indoors using my lump
I'll swag you Joe Soap, lock, stock and barrel if you rut slags

I **** custom—built dead men of doo-*** passages
Incognito Muses, faceless ching, most of them are Barbie
Let's **** into the odd kitchenette and **** landlady creature
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010
Sloane swallows.
***** is ****!
I execrate extraterrestrial.

We are all kaput to conk out.

Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky.
Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty.
I verily don’t grease a *****
Oojakapivvycum.

If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of
Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism.
The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff
It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing *******.
I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies.
I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert
That penetrate ***** creature.
I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it.
It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing.

We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium.

I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux ****,
But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android ***.
Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself.
I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail.
I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types.
I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs,
Ad hominen id.  Ex post facto,
I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself.
I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ******,
Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème.  
Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
you were opening one's lips so gorgeous and so creamy
greasing me stamen on the unfucked bonk
while the bangers let it rip in the alley

Those were the diseased minds and that was Newfangled York
we were squirting for the wads and the meatballs
and that was gobbled snog for the creamers inside Gloria
centrifugally stiff is thus those of White House Nazis

Ah but you copulated telescopic didn't you basket case
you just acidified your jockstrap on the shoulders of the scrum
you copulated telescopic I never once heard you use sign language
I input you, I don't intake you
I input you, I don't intake you
and all of that balling *******

I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
you were gorilla—like your ****** ******* was absolute epic
you leaked me again you frocked slap—up old salt
but for me you would **** an unzipping

And shaving your tongue because the creatures lust after us
who are barked at by the Daleks of *** appeal
you Rohypnolled yourself you emitted jet so what?
we are radioactive salvo we shoot full of holes the stride piano

*** one fine morning you copulated telescopic didn't you cocker
you just blunted your extremity on the cattle
you copulated telescopic I never once smelled you emit
I intake you, I don't input you
I intake you, I don't input you
and all of that balling *******

I don't mean to insinuate that I slobbered over you peanuts
I can't withhold ******* of each crouched ****
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
that's oodles I don't even kick—start you that thick and fast
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
Tilly Oct 2012
Were
you left
pondering?
Inventing reasons?
Chalk marking every crime?
Double checking messages

...from
1 to 99
?

Did you miss the signals?
Have you missed the signs?
Tackling the scenarios

...from
1 to 99

&
then
BONK!
arrives the answer

(they had a wooden leg)

NO!

Like
a bullet
to your head.

The answer was there all along.

"You were happily mislead."

~ You know, you never really listened to all the words that went ... unsaid ~

You left your chest wide open, so they tore that heart to shreds

& that's how all those loving beats
finished so ******* up
sounding
sooo misread
.
from
.
.
1
        .......^
                             ...to.....
                                                     ^........^
                                                      ­                    ....^
                                       ­                                                         ..... ^... 99

                                                             ­                    let
                                                             ­            all
                                                             ­    those
                                                  words
   ­                      slowly
    repeat
in your
messed-up
weary
head
.
'til
soon
they'll
dim
               ­          & get dreary
in
each teary
day  
that's
sent
&
soon

.stop.

worrying
about
why
that caterpillar
went
.
.
.
"1 to 99"
.
.
.
.
.
then
the silence
will start to sooth you
as cocoons spin all around
  ~ you've become a beautiful changeling  ~
& yourself is surely found...
Spread out those brightly coloured wings
Such beauty is bound to sing
in loving all you're
sure to find
by
chasing
better things
...

"Good Luck
is all
I'm Wishing"

~ whispers the one, with pretty wings~

<3
Just to make a friend laugh today...
He loves stand up, although he's only short & the old ones (jokes) are the best!
So...
What noise does a caterpillar with a wooden leg make?
Robert Potter Sep 2011
As all children were sleeping
I crept through the night
Nobody heard me
There was no one in sight

I snuck along quiet
To the reindeer den
The North Pole’s frigid air
Gave me a chill now and then

As I entered the cave
I beheld quite a sight
The big red man himself
Gearing up for his flight

My goal was quite simple
My mind was quite clear
Stopping this man was my focus
Christmas would not be this year

Why? You might ask…
What’s this day done to you?
I ask you the same
If only you knew

So I snuck up behind him
With all of my might
A swift bonk on the head
And he was out all right

When he finally came too
He was tied to a chair
He didn’t even struggle
He didn’t even care

“Oh,” Santa said,
“I suppose this is good
I could never keep up
With the lists like I should”

“Each year it gets longer
The list of kids’ wishes
And if I don’t keep the pace…
Well faith is scarce as it is”

Surprised by these facts
I paced back and forth
I must consider my options
Before the light of next morn

Now the time came
For me to explain
The reasons I traveled
To this northern domain

“Three or four years
Have passed since that day
That I vowed from then on
To make Santa pay”

“For on that bright day
I woke up very early
Expecting to open
Presents quite worthy”

“Of a man like me
And all I deserve
Boastful you say?
Not at all, I reserve
The right now to stop
This year’s Christmastide
Each child will face
The disgust as I did”

“For coal is no gift
To a man who is rich
And has all he wants
With the world as his niche”

Santa listened to me
He did not say a word
Till finally he spoke
And only this was heard

“You humans are the same
You think the world owes you much
I’ll tell you this now
We weren’t created for such”

“For I too am a man
Hired to keep the mass calm
Consumerism is the way
It spurs many on”

“There was once a time
When this day meant much more
Then the gifts that showed up
By the tree on the floor”

“Being together was king
Of this secular tradition
But that time is long gone
Replaced by pure ambition”

“Above all else
We remember the name
The brought peace on earth
And forgiveness through pain”

“This was the time
When he appeared in the earth
To go to the cross
And return us are worth”

“So I applaud you now
Though your motives aren’t true
Maybe what this world needs
Is a year bid adieu”

I listened intently
To the things he had said
And a lot of things then
Went on in my head

I wish I could say
That the world plus myself
Could survive a year
Without new things on our shelves

Even if that’s a dream
I will constantly remember
The things he had said
On that day in December
Edna Sweetlove Aug 2015
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 ******* 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.
Adult Humour Memories
hello Apr 2013
He's an introvert
Yet an extrovert at its finest times
He's optimistic
And a pessimist
He is the heart of a hurricane
And the floor of the calm ocean
He fixes things
Says he is broken
He contradicts himself
But acts as though he will never
Be wrong
I love how upside down
He is
I love this boy because
Of his backwardness
And his tendency to make up
Words
And places
I love this boy because
He follows the rules
But also breaks them
He is the ultimate roller coaster
I feel daring and unbuckle
My seatbelt
The drops the dips the spins
The curves
My body is thrown off
I bonk my head on the ground of his
Brain
He doesn't make sense
But he does
At the same time
purple orchid Feb 2014
The valet I pleasure today
Oblivious to the frigid weather,
His warm fingertips
Ran through my bare back,
My body rippled with pleasure
Holding his gaze
I felt his manhood
Against my sensitized skin
His touch was sensuous
His voice was seductive,
Demanding
Like the rest of him
Lifting up my hips wider
To make way for him
He let out a moan
As he buried himself deep,
His length filling me
Plunging,
Thrusting in me,
Deeper, harder and deeper
Stretching me,
More delicious than I fantasized
Lost in the colorful sounds
Of smell of pure bonk,
Bang and more bonk
He moves in long,
Sure strokes.
Deep.
Controlled
He conjures in acidic marsh
I groan as my body vibrates
When he sleeks and slides..
*mouth shut*
Ria Nagpal Jun 2013
They told me to write a poem,
Themed “The City Limits”,
I didn’t know what to write,
We didn’t know what to write!
My mind went blank,blank,blank.
With my favourite reddish-brown pencil trapped in my fingers
I slowly, steadily
Using a long ruler,
Drew a rectangle
I drew squares in that rectangle
It looked like a building
I drew more of them, even taller; yes taller ones that towered above the others completely
They peaked at the sky, bathed in an orange hue,
My mind was filled with an image,
Where trees swayed to the breeze
Swoosh! Woosh!
And cars moved bumper to bumper, caught up in the expressway.
Peep! Peep!
Bonk! Bonk!
A lively city, this little red dot is, But the construction works; Enough! O what a pain!
But, there was one thing,
Something was wrong with my city
The people had buttons for eyes!
Their friendly smiles turned into evil glares
The orange sky turned into silvery-grey buttons
Someone was singing, O, yes to me
Orange, red or blue
Whatever you choose
The buttons are such a beauty!
They threatened me
Oh, yes we didEvil Laugh
To sow buttons into my eyes!
I had to escape
From this dreadful nightmare
But you just couldn't wake up
Running away was forbidden!
Ring, Ring, Ring!
Holy Cheese!
Mum was shaking me awake
Finally it's over.
Poetry competition in Sec 1!!! We came second!!!
Thanks to Hset Hset, Asina, Shayna, Sarah is helping to write this poem.
Edna Sweetlove Nov 2014
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 ******* 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.
betterdays Apr 2014
we sit on the back deck in darkness. amost..... there is a rough circle of glowing embers ........from the mosquito coils and then..... two glowing cat's eyes. we.... my husband and i .....both have the scent.... of...... aeroguard... sprayed heavily on our skin. as we sit in oppressive heat...... ...waiting for the ....gasp... of a cooling.. breeze to come..... the air so moist and warm has brought forth..... ....the frogs ....and we hear......    the .....deep... throated call of the... tree frogs competing...... with the pobblebonk's... ...unique sound. ...even the cicadas..... ....have succumbed to the muggy air... and have ........gone quiet. .....all we hear in the dark is the frogs...... ...reeebert.. and ....pobbblebbBONK... amphibian lothario's crooning away..... ....as we wait for that gasp of cooling air...

reebert............



..... ...    . .pobbble........BONK
pobble BONK
...REEBERT. REeBeRT...RRREEBERT.
nothing like living in country australia.

nb. aerogaurd is a spray on insect repellant smell a lot like wd40 degreaser keep
the mossies and bugs away.
machina miller Apr 2017
sometimes i think i see the bubbles of the infinities in-between things
but i don't
i have brain trauma
doot doot
Daniel Magner Apr 2017
I'm sorry I'm debris,
I collect in the corners
slowly cluttering,
until you bonk your toes
against me,
but never enough to pick up
and toss out.
This feeling is prickly,
constantly picks at me.

I'm sorry
I can't shake it,
it has grabbed hold, twisted around
my intestines.
The worst is, I know that it's empty--

that it's an old enemy,
who used to claw at me,
since grown tired,
now gathered it's wits
to come back,
commit more atrocities.
I hope it won't tear you

from me.
This was written on a rough night.

Daniel Magner 2017
eli Nov 2019
#33
Spray
Spray
Spray
Spray
Wipe
Wipe
Crumple
Crumple
Sigh
Scrub
Scrub
Spray
Spray
Sigh
Wipe
Wipe
Wipe
Throw
Bonk
Bonk
Bonk
Bonk
Bonk
Throw
P­lonk
Mumble
Plonk
Spray
Spray
Spray
Wipe
Wipe
Whit Howland Feb 26
A rubber mallet to the knee
to watch it jump

reflexes

I'm only testing the reflexes
he says

but maybe maybe
he likes to bonk humanity

just to watch it dance
An absurdist word painting.
Olivia Ventura Jan 2019
My elbow is throbbing.

My elbow is throbbing because I was getting out of bed, and I bonked my elbow on my headboard.

I bonked my elbow on my headboard because, while I was getting out of bed, I stepped on a pile of clothes I had left at the foot of my bed the night before, stumbled, fallen, bonked, and now my elbow is throbbing.

I left the pile of clothes at the foot of my bed because I was too tired and lazy to fold them and put them away, but my grandmother always told me that if I forgot to put my clothes away at the end of the day there would be bad karma, and now I guess the only thing to say is that I got what I deserved after I had stumbled, fallen, and bonked, and now my elbow is throbbing.

I was too tired and lazy to put my clothes away because I had just gotten out of the shower and I was already carrying a towel, my work clothes, and I was shutting the door with foot, so in a way it makes sense that I dropped my clothes at the foot of my bed because I had to change into comfortable sleeping clothes before I could crawl into bed, but in order to so I had to drop the work clothes that were already in my hands so I could grab my comfortable sleeping clothes before letting my towel slip, and once I did that I realized it made me forget about the work clothes I had recently dropped because I was only thinking about sleeping, which eventually lead to my stumble, fall, bonk, and throbbing elbow.

— The End —