I had a dream, it was risqué
Read on if you dare
I was at a masquerade ball
And all there were bare.
Except for wearing masks of course
No one cared at all
Just got on with naked dancing
Bouncing round the hall.
The funny part was when they parked
Backsides on a pew
When they came to stand up again
The seats stood up too.
There was lots of piercing screaming
As seats were parted
And some very red rosy cheeks
On vision as folk partied.
At midnight came the final dance
The dream came to its close
I switched on the light, got such a fright
The floor was strewn with clothes.
I hear the boots of Krystallnacht
marching in our streets
Heil, Hitler… Heil, Sinwar…
Heil, Hitler… Heil, Sinwar…
I hear the glass of Krystallnacht
clinking 'neath their cleats
Dirty Jews… Jew pigs
Free Palestine… Intifada lives
I see 'our leaders’ cower
turning backsides to the fray
like Harvard's President, Claudine Gay
POTUS Biden asked a question, walks away
I see my fellow Jews betray our cause
shouting, 'Intifada Revolution'... 'No More Genocide'...
seeming not to understand
disunited, we perish by suicide...
Have we forgotten, do we not recall
His covenantal promise we'd never fall
One place to turn, one Name to call
~ God of Israel, save us all
Those three must not eat at all, we corpulent cats said.
It was class reunion time, and our backsides were spread.
They are still stuck up observed my friend Toddie Tedd.
I bet they don’t eat sugar, salt, chips, spaghetti or bread.
They dress too fancy too, they think they are all that.
This came from a really Rubenesque gal, I think her name was Pat.
We stared at the skinnies, wishing they would be a little more fat.
Angry at their lanky svelte ways, I acted a bit like a brat.
We all know when to find it:
The time guests ate to down sit
And host cleans chairs not a bit,
Careless cleaners sometimes hit,
A move to have their throats slit
Or sure make their teeth they grit…
When it’s windy, streets dusty,
Not-paid maid with tasks rusty;
Rooms by owners left for long,
The ones used by the not strong…
Dusty chair not for chairman:
She’d curse you: a chairman;
Faster cleaning for respect
Of all acts one she’d expect…
Dust-laden chairs backsides paint:
If they’re women’s they will faint.
Our Political Divide
Miracle Man Opinion
6/17/2022
Each time a problem, of any kind, rears its head,
the establishment quickly looks for someone to blame.
Efforts should be directed toward problem solving instead,
but one party or the other goes all out to disclaim.
No matter what happens it’s the other party’s fault,
they’ll appoint a commission and hold kangaroo court.
Then ravage each other with a constant verbal assault,
while distorting the truth, to the media they resort.
Some wonder why many politicians aren’t respected,
they're adept at speaking from both sides of their mouth.
They cover their backsides and the people are oft neglected,
while our country is invaded by those from the south.
“When they call the roll in the senate,
the senators do not know whether to answer “present” or “not guilty.”
Theodore Roosevelt
Our POTD is now black versus white.
We are going to see a racist rant in plain sight.
It’s sad when a poet, uses their pen as a stick.
This POTD has no merit and honestly makes me sick.
Why would we showcase hate and give racism a stage?
All skinheads are animals and belong in a cage.
I’m very disappointed with what this site has allowed.
It’s simply a detonation with a mushroom cloud.
I guess evil is at work causing more divide.
Maybe his parents were the same and now gleaming with pride.
Whatever the case, it’s a very sad day.
This makes me sick to my stomach and it’ll stay that way.
Could this be a simple glitch that admin has missed?
If not, they are about to see many backsides that can surely be kissed.
Someone needs to be ashamed of themselves, for allowing this pungent hate.
What has poetry become, and what was it meant to create?
Pummelled intensity, underneath we face her force
Exhaled wide eyed in white, witness rainforest exhibit
Splashed grins enfold a third tongue, waterfall
Her glistening christening combines us in sublime
Drilled by severity, her embrace as strong as yours
Like waterfall's flattened rock, I erode, smoothed
Standing fused firm against her punishing torrent
Insatiable waterfall baptism pelts my opened senses
Cleansed by new beginnings, deafened by dedication
Buckets of vision catch my breath in virgin shroud
Faces almost touching give lee from ferocious gush
Together steadied in her rapidly travelled path
Lacklustre lizards, afterwards secure sun's approval
Ancient rock sears wet backsides without burning
Snoozing pulls us here and there consecutively
Amorous dreams unmeasured as Saturday morning
Drying dares our sizzled legs go again to her vigour
Your rigid gaze raises my temperature, raging
Exposed thoughts post drenching return me
Pause flushes me with water's unwieldy ways
20th August 2020
Oh enigma ...
Endless hours of twilight-daubed magic -
Enchanting walks 'side a moon-splattered sea,
Alight with silver doubloon wave-tops that mock the starry vault,
Toes pressed to the cool, pearly-soft hem of sand,
Imparting each other our deepest notions and dearest aims.
Then ... made a joke to your friends,
Grand laughs over drinks.
Oh paradox ...
Countless midday meadows, abounding -
Hazy summer days where tall goldenrod and foxglove
Curtsied the breeze above our bare backsides,
As if in honor of the sublime, tender, soul-sharing love we made
In the sweet, supple grasses that wove our blanket ...
Hot, breathy moans lost to the buzz of honeybees and hoppers.
Then ... made but a farce in passing,
A casual remark twisted for the sake of giggles.
Oh ambiguity ...
All those preciously amazing romantic escapades -
Priceless moments rare and real, that so few ever get to know ...
Made but fodder for your careless ego ... and I your fool.
Worst of all? I would do it ALL ... again.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Polarities And Paradoxes" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
Hail, the vale aches from retraced tattered feet going hither and tither the rambunctious brood, as dawn's golden sleigh race into a sanguine morn, of languishing warmth to sheath from the fleecing errant breeze, of yonder mountaintop, amidst a blanketed respite snow made heavy from the weight of the gods, who sit eyeing the mere mortals workloads that wanes into clear desks and cold seats. Traffic slows in the late afternoon and speeds when loosened while the dusk undresses the night, whose yawns of wearisomeness is inhibited by their backsides while bustling and hustling end, lain ontop of unkept beds.
2020 January 14
Marks of a Souper Friend
(In English Haikus)
(TRILOGY)
love you openly
so honestly care about you
never run from you
care more about you
than their own selfish backsides
make comments always
you have some of these
be grateful on your sore knees
ever so happily
October 22, 2019
On tests, we cheated sometimes, to get 'A's'
If ever caught, with our backsides we would pay
Our backsides don’t see the stars
the seeds of our eyes hypnotized
mesmerized suspenser
on the flapping sheet
etchings of a classic
flick moths flutter and cling
seeing shadows drawing ever nearer
on the grassy knoll
sunflower eyes expand
as the sea explodes
and Brody’s one hundredth pronouncement
stunned and slow backwards tow
“We’re gonna need a bigger boat…”
7/8/2019
. for public domain
Thread and Weave
Her fingers, more attuned to the thread and the weave,
through years of darning our socks and sewing patches,
by touch alone told her the difference between
silk and satin, which we children could not see clear.
The palms of her hands felt the quality of cloth
of our backsides when we were guilty of sloth,
but never she judged her children's rough texture
was unfit for stitching, was not worth a whisker.
We were the burlap, that often scraped her fine skin,
that brought her to so many tears, then and again,
but "doing hard time" she softened our crusty fabric
for Mother to enjoy our comforting embrace.
LUST
behold ten fingers
that touch and reach out for more
exquisitely so
you licked up the crumbs
when you toppled the whole jar
after your first bite
your tongue searched for more
in serpentine style of hiss
then laid eyes on her
your first desired wench
you held on with pitbull clench
you could have killed her
a harem’s your due
and a hefty sum of gold
as you pick your teeth
you’re delighted to
ignore the seventh command —
now want wives of friends
climb upon backsides
of your working buds - see not
their humanity
your milky way face
longs to lick the universe
and gobble it up
pursued in the end
by wrinkles of mouth and lips
tightening their grip
10/22/2018
Seven Deadly Sins Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Edward Ibeh
The king of Saturn, it's said,
Has eyes in the back of his head
To add to the brunt,
He has none in the front
And so everywhere must be lead.
The king of Jupiter, too,
Has his head on, askew
He says hello
When he sees people go,
With only their backsides to view.
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