Best Coochie Poems
What’s all this
Nonsense
Inch tapes out
Everyone measuring distance
They call it
‘Social distancing’
Never heard
Of any such thing
After all
Man is gregarious
He, she and us
Add to it
That one more bit
About ‘Self isolation’
Living all alone
Not a soul around,
Absolutely none
But wait
This we’ve
Already been practising
Bringing into our lives
The much required zing
Some dark, dingy place
Lying curled
Avoiding the world
Dodging prying eyes
Inventing all those lies
Two middle aged love birds
Coochie-cooing
Doing just our sort of thing
Our love
Since turning on
Its ignition
Has always been
On the run
Yes, I’ve tested positive
For CUPID-20
Me, supposedly vulnerable
Though, not exactly 60
Now you’ll say
I’ve to stay away
Ok, take it easy
Just chill mate
I’m ready to co-operate
But with a condition
The world I’ll shun
But lock me up
With her
Let my Valentine
Be my quarantine.
Categories:
coochie, humor, love,
Form:
Rhyme
I know that you have seen them walking,
and I know that you have heard them talking,
'bout all thoses rhymes and reasons,
the birds and bees and,
sometimes I can't understand,
how that they roll them eyes,
and stomp their feet,
smacking their lips, in the summer heat.
See they belong to a prestious club,
where none of the fellas get no love.
They are the coochie committee,
secretly meeting in our towns and cities.
I tried to infiltrate them,
by going out on a date,
when I nearly met my fate,
only to find out that my sister, mother,grandma,
and aunt, all participate.
They all were up in arms,
One lady shouted,
"sound the alarm!!!"
they planned to do this man some bodily harm.
I ran as fast as i could,
back to my neighborhood.
called upon my brethern there,
but they couldn't relate,
as I tried to explain this place,
bout the coochie committee,
Some brothas, didn't care.
So I just hold my toungue,
whenever a woman is around,
contemplating what will go down,
cause you never know,
the power a woman has,
and if she posseses a pass,
with the coochie committee,
as matter of fact,
It always seems to,
have her back!!!!
Categories:
coochie, satire, visionarywoman,
Form:
Light Verse
Greed is a gambler...dropping the dice...high anxiety rambler
Roller coaster ride...eyes and ears set to extreme
Back and forth up and down...black, blue, and blurred in a blink in the breeze
Jokers always looking for that big jackpot...red lights roar and the sirens scream
Endlessly searching for that sure fire scheme
Stain glass sinner on a winning week
Greed is a gangster...pulling big paper and pushing bad bullets
Hair trigger henchman getting bigger and badder
Rob to get richer...gruesome giant starts to grow
Grabbing and getting...never giving back what he stole
Teardrops on tombstones...still ruthlessly he rolls
Greed is a gold digger...Pearl necklace on a pig
Smooth and sexy swine
Drunk on diamonds and dollars...demoness dressed so divine
Keep taking until it's all took
Corrupt with the coochie...that cutie's a crook
Sweat stains on the silver spoon
Her shadows turn to slaves
Prostitute her pride but she's still getting paid
Greed runs out of gas and leaves it's victims burned and bashed
Lies get told like whips and lashes leaving you cashed out cold just like a hot check
Greed always gets another to do its dark bidding
so it can live longer and keep on sinning
Greed says the grass is always greener on the other side of the hole
Greedy death is what you get when your master is more
Categories:
coochie, addiction,
Form:
Blank verse
I spit game proper, like a pro-batter, I got the right stroke
I work deals, like it's Black-Friday, I'm far from broke
I can't help but make the girl proud and gay
Want some of my time, like takes, you too gotta' pay
She don't act up, but she's so bad, discipline
Put her in time-out, punishment, a great beatin'
When I'm hittin' her good, she calls me daddy
I'm her trophy, showcase me, friends wish they had me
Too easy, always give it up, her man call it robbery
Termite, loves wood, told me have my log handy
Do what I order, like a puppet, no-strings-attached
Not a crook, but like a purse, your chick got snatched
Not intimate, gold-digger, money makes her cum
It's me, her, and a bag of money, three-sum
You got flushed-down-the-drain, but I'm the crap, feces
You're gone, don't make 'em like me, endangered species
Got fire-wood, leave the 'coochie' smoking like a Newport
Done with you, on to the next, long stick, but life's short
Get attached, space myself, I come around less
Bad sex, back-stabbing, bull, I ain't with the B.S
Categories:
coochie, humorous, life, men, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
Hooked through the heart by a homicidal honey
Stung like a bee from a mind full of menace
A dangerous diamond in the midst of dust devils
In the middle of a minefield she calls me to come
Risking life, love, and limb...living only for lust
Harsh lesson in life
Distance never making a difference
Gone like a ghost...the ignorance of innocence
Like an alien lost in an angry land
Hunted by hellions with hate in their hands
All alone and alienated
Jackrabbits and junkyard jokers...annihilate and ace them
Eliminate and erase...but the beasts all look like beauties
Soon captured and caged by that corruptible coochie
Enticed at the entrance...endless eyes glow with glee
For me there is no exit or escape
Seduced and made senseless
Gone like a ghost...the ignorance of innocence
My lover is a liar...her lies are so lyrical
Lost in her labrynth on the south side of spiritual
Her heat is habitual
I'm a junkie in her jail
Committing her crimes and paying her penance
I spread wings to fly but get fried on her electrified fence
Gone like a ghost...the ignorance of innocence
Categories:
coochie, betrayal, sexy, sin,
Form:
Blank verse
Haters ain't built like me, I'm a G
That's a letter of the alphabet you can't be
Vissionaires do it, pessimists blew it
Quit wasting time, let's get back to it
You should go vegan, don't want no beef
You're swimming with sharks, by a coral reef
Big dog, running the hood, like an engine
Full plate, I'm eating too much, binging
In charge, call me the producer, I run the set
Pull triggers, don't work-out, hate to sweat
You better not push me, I'm on the edge
I fall, raise the heat, that's my pledge
Militant, call me out, I'll be there
In this deadly game, I'm the nightmare
I give you my word, search, I'ma' find you
When I raise that fire, hope I don't blind you
I'm dead fresh, like I had life but lost it
Get money like the bank, blow it and floss it
Stay in my own lane, I'm a safe driver
Always in wet coochie', call me a scuba-diver
Party, 'n' throw it up, like gang signs
I'm a G, you're a square, like four-straight-lines
I'm built tough, you're chicken crap, tender
Just sunk your battle-ship, time to surrender
Categories:
coochie, life, poems, poetry, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
Hood fellow, pull her hair like I do the trigger
Plenty of cash, don't care if she's a gold-digger
She broke-up with her ex and got me, lost and found
Get in bed, take out my pistol, let off a round
Shoot her up, shoot her up, bang, bang
Blowing on my mic', the best song she ever sang
Got flavor, cold with all this ice, like a 'Slurpee'
Got something for your chick to drink, she slurps me
Definitely ain't praying, but she gets on her knees
Her head game is fire, nine-hundred-degrees
It's like she's educating me, gives me good brain
While she's down there, I pull her hair, like a horse's mane
She's a vampire, sucking on the neck of my second head
Not the one on my shoulders, but the one used in bed
She told me to eat her out, went down and bit it
She can't stand violence, but loves the way I hit it
Beat the 'Coochie' up, bedroom turned into a boxing arena
Call it domestic violence, no court, no subpoena
Riding me, I'm thinking 'bout gettin' her a saddle
We rocking the boat right now, ain't got a paddle
Making a movie, this the best part, 'bout to climax
She loves when I come over, got everything her man lacks
Categories:
coochie, humorous, life, men, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
We could have a hoochie coochie dance
Looking for a little romance
We could spin and spin
Have a real love in
Listen to the music's beat
Happy dancing feet
We could whirl and whirl
This is when boy meets girl
Categories:
coochie, love,
Form:
Lyric
Mrs. Cuntley,
a widow is my landlady.
Chubby and kinda motherly
she cooks for me.
We drink on the weekends,
and the hot stuff begins.
In a see-through gown
she comes into my room and goes down.
I can’t resist
the passion in her hot kiss.
Horny and all perfumey
she rides, wildly!
We ride the powerful waves of ecstasy.
Tit for tat I like it like that, sexually.
A cougar that will not be denied
before she is satisfied.
Hot and sweaty
we rock steady.
I feel her coochie grip,
As she bites her lower lip.
She turns red
and throws back her head.
Suddenly,
we are blown out of the bed !
#Cougar
This story is from the past.
Categories:
coochie, age, desire, lonely, lust,
Form:
Rhyme
Mocking Bird
Mocking Bird Mocking bird can't fly,
Mocking bird can't sing,
Mocking Bird is unable to walk.
She's not allowed to do anything.
Cold naked, all alone,
in dark dirty room that,
daddy calls her home.
Strapped in a straitjacket,
and chained to a chair,
hosed down and beaten every day,
never even allowed to cry.
not a word,
Her daddy wanted it that way.
Daddy called it love.
The last exit to hell in,
in the city of angels, a town they call L.A.
For twelve long years,
Her daddy kept her that way.
At night her daddy force feeds her slops
then chains her to her bed.
They found her when she turned thirteen
Labelled her the feral wild, child.
So she blames herself,
for her life that never was.
And She dreams in echoes of a life that might have been.
The experts and lawyers fought over her night and day,
At the last exit to hell
In the City of Angels, a town they call L.A
Mocking bird can’t sing,
Mocking bird can’t talk,
Mocking Bird cant even walk.
But she can only hop like a rabbit.
And She is now a free bird,
but she is still locked away,
At the last exit to hell in a town called L.A.
She dreams in echo's,
of a life that might have been,
And the mocking bird is now a Mocking Jay
Foe, she does not exist either way.
Even now She's locked in dark dirty room
that's black, blue and gray .
that The State of California calls her home.
Locked away in the City of Angels
A city they call L.A.
Echoes of a life that might have been.
Locked away in the City of Angels
A town called L.A.
Echoes of a life, that might have been.
that might have been,
In HELL a HELL they call L.A.
(c) London F. BuSS 2022 Coochie Road Australia.
Note. this is a true story, when she was discovered, she couldn't walk (she could hop like a rabbit). She was chained to a chair for 13 years. She couldn't feed herself; she couldn't cry, she couldn't talk (even now she cannot speak whole sentences. She is regarded as highly intelligent but State of California still has her locked away in hell.
Categories:
coochie, abuse, angst, anxiety, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse
Movie in the making, viewer discretion
Keep your mouth shut, forget witness protection
Better keep it discreet, avoid detection
Complete the play, can't afford a deflection
This the real deal, it ain't a gimmick
Watch and learn, just don't mimic
Statue-of-liberty, we're holding the torch
Running the race, but ain't competin' in sports
We're like bubbles in champagne, heading to the top
Come at me sideways, like a fish when it flop
Get popped, Glock's off safety, it's cocked
Or like an old rocking chair, get rocked
Leave you like I left your girl's 'coochie', beat-up
Don't want problems, you better speak-up
I'm a heavy-weight, you're lighter than a leaf
Eat you like a T-bone steak, I love beef
Money equals problem, problems come with money
I play the cards I was dealt, I'm good at Rummy
I'm not a treadmill, so don't try 'n' run me
Got money for rainy-days, even for when it's sunny
Like the Super-Dome, I'm on top of the game
I'm in it for the cash, ya'll can keep the fame
Categories:
coochie, character, humorous, life, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
i'm tired of these boys that aint no good
i'm tired of these boys that aint goin nowhere, ghetto for life, no further than the
hood
i'm tired of these boys poppin females off and goin to jail
i'm tired of these boys that get out and continue to sale
i'm tired of these boys tryna be pimps, playas, hoes
got the nerve to call us runners, and they pros
i'm tired of these boys thats fine, all in theyself, wasteing our time
im tired of these boys fake blinging, drama bringing, heart breaking, time
wasteing, good looks, wrong attitude, not all that and still rude
im tired of these boys that cant take no for an answer
im tired of these boys that girls are chasing after
filling up their head, got them thinking they whats it
comin at me like their a priviledge
im tired of these boys life about gettin high
im tired of these boys that got the upper hand and choose to die
im tired of these boys thats triffalin, rivalin, killen they own, talk stuff, hang on
corners, always drunk
im tired of these boys that wanna be thug, buck, talk to much, got big heads, little
gut
always who's the man, high fives cuz yo hit that ass, you got hers dont mean you
gone get mine
im tired of these boys thats immitating, irritating, aggravating, instigating,
munipulating, humiliating, degrading, betraying, lover claiming, lust gaining,
coochie fienen, disease springing, baby creating, drug related, dumb but
educated
im tired of these boys that see the street life exciting and the ones that think
there's no other road
i understand it's not easy growing up in the ghetto world
but while you were taught to sale, deal, smoke, drink, drugs
while you were taught money, streets, attitude, gangs, thug
while you were taught babies, babymamas, sex, drama
while you were taught pimps, playas, hoes, who's the man
try to learn how to be a man
my ladies are tired
Categories:
coochie, inspirational, life, passion, people,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
so love us ’cause “I’m the hoochie-coochie man”,
not way over there, but here because we gotta' get our feet groovin'
the path of the seer-serpent probing our souls believin’ our believin’ eyes in askin’,
do you be “secret agent man?”
because they’ve taken your number and given me your name I
raise in exultation of bone-bred pain screaming for a strangling
of questions “in the shadow of the city” risen from scorched, grinning alleys
strewn with hope-seeds born in the spittle of fertility, ancient
moments still watching over the sacred egg from which we came – and
shriven of barrenness I throw back my head to yell,
“you ain’t nothin’ but a houn’ dawg”
nothin’, nothin’ but a
houn’ dawg, houn’ dawg
runnin’ tongue-led along my trail joined
to your redolent thread, us sweetly inflamed with “bad, bad whiskey – and we’ve lost our home”,
bad, bad, bad, bad whiskey, highway of liquid-burning sin and yelping salvation
from heaven and hell to the beyond of the subway station confessed with “I love you”,
and the only answer I need is redemption of the night
steeped in the beautiful, bad bad whiskey
of your eyes…
… and the whispering hymn of the wind…
Categories:
coochie, love, love,
Form:
Free verse
The Eiffel Tower stabbed at a midnight
as blue as an old Muddy Waters track.
From a distance, its lace-iron skeleton
looked like a slick and oily spider-web
crowned with a glittering neon diamond.
(My Grandmère's home is across the street from it).
“Do you want to go climb it?” I’d asked Peter (my bf).
“Naah,” he’d replied, “too crowded - what’s next?”
We’ve been tourist-ing all of the big Paris sights.
As we night cruised the Seine, the rivière looked dark
and perilous - a phthalo-green snake slithering north
westerly at six times the speed of the Nile.
We took a guided tour of the Louvre - it’s a crowded
fortress and you can’t see the Mona Lisa up close.
We day-toured the palace at Versailles, with its ghosts
of past grandeurs and revolutionary, royal beheadings.
The Arc de Triomphe is just an unsafe round-about.
As we Uber’d around it, I turned to Peter saying,
“Joke time: What’s more dangerous:
a shark or an American driver in a Paris traffic circle?”
.
.
Paris la nuit = Paris at night
Muddy Waters was a singer and musician - a delta blues man considered the "father of Chicago blues." Chicago blues was electrified, hard driving and drum backed. The Rolling Stones took their name from one of his songs. He was the original “Hoochie Coochie Man."
Categories:
coochie, boyfriend, fun, humor, night,
Form:
Free verse
Have you ever been on the train or bus
take a sniff and sit with disgust?
There's a bad feeling in your gut
because you know you smell some butt
All you think is someone move me
cause I'm tired of smelling this ladies Coochie
It's only a few stops,
you can't loose your seat,
but it's killing you smelling
that man's feet
You're nauceaus and there's sweat in your palms
It's the tart smell of underarms
Getting from here to there is a chore
and just when you think you can't take no more,
you talk to someone cause that's all that's left
and the whole time you can see their breath
I know that this may sound harsh
so do us all a favor...
PLEASE WASH!!!
Categories:
coochie, funny
Form:
Rhyme