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Jimmy Kerr Mar 2014
there's something vulnerable
about your *****:
babe - whenever
I watch that pepper bush
I become vulnerable
and all I want to do
is to finger the moist bases;

there's something vulnerable
about your buttocks:
babe - whenever
your warm ****'s in my palm
I become vulnerable
and all I want to do
is to dig into the honey vases;
Gigi Tiji Oct 2015
Oh cute little thing
I like your contour

you look pretty funny when you're cold
you get these lovely wrinkles
especially in the middle region
nearly dendritic
more like the cracks in the earth

and your satchel breathes on its own
like a brain if it had lungs for itself
but more like an amoebic celestial body squirming around in some primordial goop
I think that's pretty cool

you're a pink and brown mushroom emerging from a forest of black wiry moss

concentrated around you and
all growing in your direction

almost lifting you up and out
and then further away fading

the way the water gets clearer
above a sand bar

and then a great convergence
a crashing of two great waves
against each other

forming a wall of spindly tendrils
before the whirlpool
It was just another ordinary day at the Pub.
I  as always at the helm tending bar hitting on hamsters and making crude jokes that usually walked the line and got me banned from a site that I was a living legend on.
Remember kids there is no Hello without Gonzo.

Hey Gonz you really need to do something bout the restroom some nameless bland writer that I probably liked cause I thought she looked hot said to me as she walked towards the bar.
What is somebody jerking off in there again ****** !
I swear creative ******* sure are a frustrated ***** bunch.

Just then a old man walked from the restroom .
Granddad  what did I tell you bout using the restroom?
Huh the old man replied with that look of who the hell am I am what the **** is this ***** behind the bar saying .
Yeah I get that look a lot .

Granddad !
Huh?
What's that ?
He replied again as he staggered to the bar smelling of whiskey and **** yeah almost like Lindsey Lohans new perfume ode to a ***** well minus the ******* and bitter smell of a burned out former child actress.

What's that your saying?
The restrooms father time what did I tell you ,there strictly for paying costumers go use the alley where  I keep your house slash cardboard box .

Oh yeah and by the way you still owe me rent duh just cause your old and related to me doesn't mean you can just sponge off me who do you think you are some washed up drunken writer who haunts a nearly dead website like some strange perverted ghost ?

Hey did you hit the blood bank you old ****?
But son they told me I can't go twice in a week or I could die!
Look old man if you cant do that then you better hit the street start jerking off truckers I swear it was good enough for grandma you lazy **** .

I swear you give a semi senile old **** a spacious alley and wonderful box to live in as you take his social security and this is thanks you get.
Oh well least when he passed I can still collect his checks I'll just keep him in the walk in box nobody will know the difference .

Hey ******* don't talk to that  nice old man like that.
A voice Interrupted  me as I was about to remind father time he needed to sign his check duh how else do you think I fund the bar?

You really are a ***** Gonz you should be ashamed off talking and treating that nice old man so terrible.
I couldn't believe the gull of this women and although I was slightly distracted by her ******* I had to keep  focused cause this story had to end some ******* time .

Miss first off may I say welcome to the Pub and you have a great rack.
***** you perve ! , She said in her angry yet I could tell she secretly wanted me cause I'm a totally delusional egotistical ******* writer who is really long winded and enjoys cheap laughs and even cheaper hookers but only in moderation like Jesus kind of sense .

What to much?
Well you haven't read **** yet kids .

Miss I realize you may view me as a totally kickass writer and dude that you secretly want to have a goodtime in the backroom with .
Drop dead **** ! the woman replied .
Yeah I could tell I was wearing her down.

What gives you the right to treat this old man so cruel?
Duh cause he's my family silly woman and it's not like I'm cruel to him
in fact I treat him great don't I grandpa?

I haven't eaten in four days .
The old man replied .

You poor old sweetheart the woman said as she put her arms around the old man as he began to cry what a total ***** .
It's okay I'll get you some help .
Oh thank you so much your such a nice lady .

What the hell !
I herd the woman say in a semi state of shock as she realized in her effort to comfort grandpa he had grabbed a handful of some tight **** .

Get your hands off me .
The woman shouted but grandpa was stuck to that women like a tight pair of jeans .
Come on sweetheart give pop pop  some love.

The old demented ******* said.
***** this the woman said as she drove her knee about five miles into the old ****'s junk.

The old man fell to the floor as all five of the regulars laughed and the dudes had to cringe .

You people are all insane ***** this place she said as she walked out the door .

The old man climbed the barstool in the woes of agony a frustrated climber trying to hit the peak of that really tall mountain that I cant recall it's ******* name oh yeah Adele .

Give me a *******  whiskey and a ice pack you little *******.
I swear pops that act never gets old you alright?
I said as I poured the old ***** a strong one and handed him a steak.

What the hells the steak for ?
Duh the swelling ******* besides we got to thaw it out anyways
somebody ordered one from down the street and would it **** you to shave I'm just saying the owner of the site really already dislikes me enough already.

Yeah you kids are ****** up with your cellphones and computers and your shaved ***** give me the old days where men were men and weren't afraid to be men and smell like men not French ******
speaking of ****** dam I miss your grandma .

Yes the Gonzo clan it's so great to come from such a long line of misspelling drunken ***** loving perverts .

You know pops maybe we need to pick a new scam to run on the yuppies I don't think you can take to many shots like that anymore.

Hey are you saying I'm old ?
Well when the first boat trip you ever took was on the  Mayflower I'd say so gramps .

Well did that order for the steak include any seafood?
No why?
I replied as I poured me and the old man another.

Well cause it looks like there getting some ***** with there steak.

                                          Fin

Stay crazy hamsters

Gonzo
Poetic T May 2014
Naughty nun and your sinful games,
You prey to my weakness with your
Lustful games, you know all sins
Of the flesh, wearing your cloth of
Faith. Knowing I cant keep my hands
Of a woman of the cloth so hot is faith.

You get on your knees, and you pray
Not for the above, but what hangs in
Your face. Jesus she says  holy crap,
You want that where it  my holy hole,
No way you going back there as she
Holds a cross.

You don't want to pray to the meat,
You just like it in your mouth, I lift
Up your robe to find the smuttiest
Under wear on, as you close my
Mouth and push it to your awaiting
Lips, your ***** shaved in the sign
Of the cross.

I may wear the cloth and believe in
Up above but that doesn't hide what's
Beneath a woman yearning for man
Meat and lust, yes I have tasted a sister
Or two tasted the fruits of there loom.
But nothing compares to the sinful lust
Of having a man inside me fulfilling my
Womanly lust.
***# lust# naughty# *****#
Ceida Uilyc Aug 2014
And,  I smiled at my own nakedness.
Pouring down my thighs,
With the *****,
I stood stark ****.
Unbounded of the brassieres
And support of the *******,
It was a plain freedom.
But, I.
I felt the air quench horror down.
The tingling of the copulation
And, its sweaty remnants glued the ***** soil,
Onto my tender body,
While crouched further into the ground.


It was very dark.
And, two limelight.
I could see me in one.
Bare.
Shaved
And dripping.

And, in the other,

A he,
Was not there.
Two dozen men stood
In front of me.

All those acquaintances it seemed like
The new age resultant of a dozen
Photoshop-ed faces reflecting the crimson of  
Familiar intimacies of all the swallowed *****,
It seemed as if.
Well, I could recognise all of them.
I had slept with each, once upon.


The beautiful ***, the sneering *******,
The-neourotic-awesome one, the pro-marriage one,
The sweet one, the afraid one, the older one,
The browny,
The passionately wild and genuine one,
The drugged one,
The fat ****
And the **** guy.
All in front of me.
While I was nubile,
Begging in clasped hands,
A tear of joy.
Of thankfulness.
Of a heavy thankfulness.
For having worshipped my innards
My ejaculations, perpetually wet vaginal facades
And escapades.

For the li'lest that time they did.

But, then.

Yes.

Ya, I was grateful,
I was simply grateful
For having been objectified.

For having been indebted to those zillion
Dissolved and
Disposed tissues in their garbage bins
That was blotched with my vaginal smear, ***** and mucous.

Time never felt necessary
A romantic forgetfulness!
For love had,
Taught me co-existence.
And only,
Co-existence.
Which, would come to use only if I'm shipwrecked, alone.


I stood up.
Yes, I stood UP ON MY LEGS.
My ******* panted off
the last bit of sweat,

The wind was pleasant,
But strong.

I couldn't feel the cold.
My fingers Icy cold I wrapped against the warm elbows,
And nails,
Gushing with an ablaze of bloodiest red of
A life so dead white.

And, the sweat had disappeared.

The ***** too.


I was drought, clean.

I was done.

A heavy tornado of misandry
Came buy,
And I jumped in.

And howled with the wind.


Loud, clear.
And, red.

And, howled the world to howl with me.

For the celestial lesions up above,
to buy my rage.


Because the effervescent stake was
Too holy a scent
For my scanty dermis.

I Howled,
Through my rusted lance
And swamped hips,
Too dry.

To Spike my cramps
And howl into my knee-caps a full blow of pure kush for the empty cavities.

Ha ha.

Entrap the last ounce of warmth
Of a paranoid agony.

And howl the misandry.

Around. And around.
And around.

Around.


Till it comes back,
Around n round n round.
N round.



Misandry, my toska.
My final Toska.
Toska is a Russian Word that is inexplicable to translate to English.
Edna Sweetlove Jan 2015
Number 7 in the ORLOK series and one of the best*

O how I relish the taste of blood
****** out from the devastated jugular
But there is more, much more
When the victim is a nubile ****
From a Transylvanian village
Where ****** morality
Is quite ******* thin on the ground;
And that is how I met my fate.

'Twas on an October eve
When I met plump Esmeralda
And (having fed my fill from her neck
as she slept in her hut
under filthy rags stinking of stale *****),
I sank my fangs into her naked belly
Ripping into her bloated guts
With my accustomed gusto;
My tongue slurping its way
Over her twitching ****;
And finally I descended joyously
To her odorous *****-encrusted *****
For the last rites,
Before the final curtain
To her worthless life of peasantry.

But then, as my excitement mounted,
And just as I was on the verge
Of pumping out my vampiric *******,
I felt an agonising, mind-blasting pain
As a major stroke swept through me,
Wrecking my synapses big time,
Turning my brain into guacamole.
And now I am a crippled ******,
Just a spasticated old vampire
In my second-hand rusting wheelchair,
Courtesy of Romanian Social Services,
Drooling helplessly
Into my swollen pissy crotch,
Waiting for another enema,
My sole remaining pleasure
And a stimulus to my jaded prostate.

But, hurrah! hurrah! new hope arrives:
A miracle occurs as I read of
The new wonder pill from SuperDrug
Available only in private practise
And guaranteed to rejuvenate the jaded
Or your money back, no worries.
Orlok will fly again to pursue
The pleasures of the flesh
And especially the botty-zone.
rick May 23
when you trim your ***** and your mustache with the same pair of scissors
when you hand over your entire paycheck to the bartender of doom and glee
when you write a bounced check at the grocery store
when you sleep with a girl who isn’t clean
when you’re young, lost, broken and poor
when your childhood runs hard and your luck runs out
when your best friend is dead and your other friend is ******* your girl
when your dog sleeps in the afternoon and dreams of the neighborhood *****
when your nutrients gets replaced with Xanax bars over the one who just left
when your tired eyes meet the brick & mortar of strenuous labor
when the smile is so fake that it appears genuine
when you go all in on someone you weren’t 100% sure of
when you wait on bleeding knees for the unreliable god
when you bet on the boxer that crashed to the canvas
when the interest is high and the banks are closed and the creditors don’t care about grace periods
when you understand very little and you expel a whole lot
when the cord of anxiety strangles your very essence
when you turn out to be just as everyone expected

don’t worry

it’ll all turn around

and find you again

someway

somehow.
matt nobrains Jun 2014
this is a poem about happiness.
this is also a poem about how great life is, see? here's a metaphor
comparing nature to the faultless
form of a pedastalized lover,
here's a description of the
effect of changes in air pressure
and localized temperature
fluctuations
on physical matter in a given area.
here's a bland truism that
anybody can relate to.
here's a couple rhyming stanzas
about the ethereal shifting of
connecting threads which
cause all life to dance upon
the cosmic stage like food poisoned marionettes.
here's an ode to the wrinkles of
my ******* and
the bits of fuzz that occasionally
find their home in my *****.
here's a sonette to the drop outs
doing better than me
here's a dirge for the businessman
that hangs himself
and a jubilee for his widow
who earns nothing off his death
because he left his entire estate
to his catamite.
I'm writing a symphony in color,
notes of fermenting wood
dogshit and coffin dust.
the violas swoop and drone
the piccolos trill fast enough
to excise your gastrointestinal system
the barotone sax wheezes
and the timpani drum rumbles
(the flutes sit motionless because
**** flutes)
the pianists fingers are bleeding
hes banging with stumps now
his face contorted in ecstatic glee
as if the face of god has parted
the clouds just to scrape his gums
clean with his dietous ****.
and lo faint is the whisper
which climbs and slithers
between the
false,
bash upon life with both hands.
here is life here is death
let me show your life
let me breathe your wretching
like squandered
like roots in the soil,
paint your everlasting cave drawing
in the face of your kitchen
and dance around a fire
let the embers lick your heels
til pagan viciousness overtakes
your quivering form.
gasp it in
Fah Jul 2013
Dearest Victoria ,

you enquired so, we have:

Listing the problems from her front teeth to the back molars, Winston sat with her back to the mirror

She had bad eyesight so couldn’t really see the contours of her face but was comforted by the fact that there was another person in the room ,

Down stairs Q was making cakes ,

the outfit she wore had enough diamonds to drown a drag queen , some ended up in the cake , along with the usual ingredients : ***** , fluff from under the stairs , a pinch of cremation dust from her Pa’s last fake funeral , the end of a shoelace that had begun to fray and very good quality butter Hard to find in these parts, Most the butter was mixed in with genetically modified jaguar pelt,

modified to grow their pelt as butter, the farmers would attach buckets to their bodies and collect as they malted

This was the latest trend, Q despised it , she made cakes for the café up the road , a dingy old shack with only four stools and one type of coffee, sludge

Out in the garden Sarah Whitely grew her carrots, alongside her parsnips and next to that stood an oak tree who rained down her wisdom onto the veg ,

this made sure that everyone in the house was stocked up with their daily doses of Wisdom ,

Otherwise they were sure to get sick without it ,

I believe in your world , you’d call it something a bit like vitamins ,

Only as one ate the carrots their eyesight into other universes would develop

And the parsnips helped them with their imagination,

I like eating mine with thai tea caramel sauce, shipped in from the faraway land of JAUL , there I hear they don’t need to eat anything but pastries and pizza to keep up their health , they live in amongst wise trees with wise people and wise mountains , thus their capacity for wise is already overflowing, they keep it in jars under the stairs and gift their visitors with at least 3 jars before they depart ,

From across the valley I can see the Snarls house, they are friendly enough and pretty decent fellows but quite honestly they must learn to be a little more understanding and a little less demanding ,

they keep on borrowing all of our rolling pins and never give any back , and the ones they do give back are the ones I don’t really mind them having , it’s that silver one with the flecks of gold dust I really want to use, the gold flakes onto the pastry , that

my dear friend, is the secret to a good quiche, gold dust

The market is 19 kl away , john the Baptist is often the first up , so he goes out there on the solar bike ,

his name isn’t really john the Baptist but ever since he had that motorbike accident he , firstly , switched to solar bikes , and secondly decided that he wouldn’t live any more of his precious life being called Barry McWetsulf ,

anyway, so John does all the shopping but seems to almost always forget the washing powder that doesn’t foam , ergh , the foaming ones contain maggot eggs that burrow into your clothes and before you know it , the foam is all maggots and you’ve got to buy a new cloak ,

that’s a pain you know ,

they aren’t easy to come by anymore Since the hobbits passed through and bought all of he stockpiles up ,

no one thought to make any more

We heard they were dead

(sigh)

supply and demand eh?

Who am i? Ah I forgot, I am the local fortune teller ( that’s what is written on my business card ) but I really I trained in mechanics and have a knack for fixing jumbo jets , sadly the last one I fixed did crash into the Indian Ocean ,

killing all passengers but the dog survived, turns out I had left the last piece of the engine at home, I thought we just didn’t need it anymore

but ya live and ya learn old chap!

So dear, you didn’t put a return address on your letter asking who I was and where I live , so I wrote you one anyway , we do have signal boosters here , maybe I’ll catch you on the airwaves?

Your Friend , Trustee , Peaceful Neighbour , World dweller , Life consumer , time creator , music maker , nebula fornicator

HaHa
michelle reicks Dec 2011
this pit in my stomach





lets me know

that i am freaking
the ****
out.

it feels good.
insanity is running through the roots of my hair


when i remembered today
that you are probably
shaving your *****

in preparation


for Elisabeth



I'm rooting for you, you disgusting weasel.
i hope it's the best ******* will ever give anyone


and i hope it means

nothing to her
Johnson Oyeniran Nov 2021
Soft, natural, symmetrical fine *****,

**** body right down to your *****.

— The End —