Best Greasing Poems
butter...quantums!...fly in every kitchen
quantum butter however flies as...everywhere
when trefoil bubbles rise...as heat
greasing particles...so to speak
along times imaginary...numbered axes
and biasing spherical wave expansions...relative
some pre-caused destination point in a...four dimensional universe
the medium of which is termed a...trefoil population of
quantum butterflies with two wing speeds....'c'!?...an on or off
stan sand
Categories:
greasing, addiction, appreciation, butterfly, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Memories of goodness from collaborating nakedness
are more than strong appetizing captivity from hot omelets and lasagna
serving as the foundation of a strong intimacy
planted in a greenhouse of mythical pleasures
growing in the natural mood of the angels,
joy of a breast fed toddler and
the blossom of a newly wedded bride
making each episode of our erotic escapades
fit in perfectly like fried bricks placed by an experienced mason
to always anticipate holy crimes, godly naughtiness and tempting tenderness.
Having a voice formed from taking Nature’s tea
your happy reactions feel like wrapping thighs over my soft abdomen
and playfulness like your tender pelvis greasing my trunk.
your anxious tongue convulse at the slightest touch of any body part
like the dancing tail of a fast swimming fish
padding my inside to softness to provide sensual oxygen
giving constant preservative to our gritty and never decaying romance.
Such love always create classic dreams
with slow melodic settings showcasing proactive kisses
from nuclear minds so spontaneous and rhythmic,
liberal skins ready for intense foreplays
making even our under wears carry so much envy
because of such a walled passion
impenetrable by any radar and unsinkable by any disaster.
Our essence of clothing is to take them off
the significance of our schooling is to garnish up such affection
the creation of this heat is a powerful reality
standing between men and angels
summing up a traditional fairy attached by
a never ending chain of irresistible desires
this exactly defines the two of us.
this bond is just conservative to our unique and inferno experience
and so therefore, the ultimate hope is, we should never stop!
Categories:
greasing, love, romance, romantic, sexy,
Form:
Romanticism
The Grinch lies exhausted at the North Pole;
tired of chasing drunk reindeer from his still.
And he's sure to be lectured by Santa;
as if it's his fault, they lick up the spill.
He thinks Santa should ride a pickup truck;
who uses reindeer and a sleigh these days?
And his cookbook, titled "How To Serve Deer,"
well, that could be taken in many ways.
It's boring acting traditionally;
a little mischief adds spice to his pluck.
But elves don't appreciate his genius,
like greasing Santa, so he won't get stuck.
Today, youngsters are much more food-conscious;
spinach and beef jerky are nutritious.
And therefore, why all the hullabaloo;
so what if candy is more delicious?
Santa, you see how it's not all his fault;
for he's being the best Grinch he can be.
And he wonders if, maybe this year, you'd
leave him a gift under the Christmas tree.
Categories:
greasing, celebration, children, christmas, fantasy,
Form:
Quatrain
The world in our hands would impair devils
An unthinking thought more blissful
Than a wish fulfilling shooting star
Our missions would be charted out
To go on our victory dance one step at a time
For peacefully unifying the global eye
The lines in the hand of child would be uncorroded
With the scavenging paedophiles detonated
And their gardens be filled with natural joys and play
Food for the starving would be an essentia
Hunger and water a distant call before going to bed
Appetising the poor rather than greasing over fed palettes
We would delve deep into the human vein
Gushing with a universal religion of tolerance
That binds all colours rather than undermining faiths
Gigantic deeds would keep gory bloodsheds at bay
And young valiants would keep hearts of their fair
In strongholds for inopportune cataclysms
Global warming would be of a season gone by
Aerial reforestations and seed bombs for divergent climes
Would be the neatest stuff rather than bloody nukes
A day will come when life begins once again
When dragons burn out the archetype evils and
Dying values will sprout worldwide deliverance once again
April 9, 2016
Dan Kearley
Categories:
greasing, care, child abuse, faith,
Form:
Free verse
Our naughty crafts in sex workshop
are all placed under a constant rewind.
Your accurate curves and warm planes
covered in moisture like a soul’s Vaseline
is an awesome park for the leisure of my lust.
Hormones from both ends,
acting like the descendants of the same goddess
grind the coal to heat up sweet but deadly flames.
Anytime absent, you drastically take away
the wagons of my manhood.
Each day when far away,
your heart leaves a text message
for my eager mind to print and bind.
Each time I open my mouth,
I feel the sweetness of your flavoured saliva,
and my thighs when lying together
measure the degrees of your flesh’s heat.
Each morning, our torsos are on a one on one meeting
within locked hips for a proper discussion,
soft, slow, tender, wet, round, warm-all sensual adjectives
to scenes of tropical temperatures so mild and kind.
Our sweats mix to start chemistry’s experiment
in twos, desires battle fiercely
like opposite royal landlords of the battle field;
dancing tongues, greasing bellies, clamping hands;
breath sharing, fidgeting limbs and flexible pelvises
all combine to make summer and spring wonderful sisters.
Just a little serenity I’ve been searching
but a large green field of little palms I find.
Every damsel has her glow,
but you ripen so sharp to beat the coat of many colours
so that my appetite stay blind
to the city’s rainbows and the town’s street lights.
Everlasting is such a nature’s blessing
b’cos the warehouse of our passion is never in a full stock.
Categories:
greasing, love, romance, romantic, sensual,
Form:
Romanticism
Staring into an empty sea-blue Picasso.
Winking,blinking and greasing my wet nose,
Trying to discerpher the rune in my upper
torso.
To see, if I shall for once, think strait.
Then upon my thoughts, I sat;
Thoughts of her; and of her.
Thoughts, that once sufficed the brute, I was,
And of odysseys across her angelic form.
Of Rome, Greece and savage Persians,
Of wars waged and love made.
Of souls of immortals slain,
And of odysseys across her angelic form.
So, I laid upon my sweaty quill.
Yet in my long ashored ado.
Scribling; scribling upon a wet cotton
napkin;
Thoughts of her; and of her alone.
Categories:
greasing, absence
Form:
Elegy
Dorothy and Toto went skipping
the Yellow Brick Road(she was tripping).
She had just smoked a joint--
getting high was the point--
and now she was bent on some stripping.
She thought that old scarecrow looked easy
(he'd be a good score easy-peasy).
She tripped on her slippers,
her gingham went rippers,
the scarecrow asked, “Up for a threesy?”
Now Dorothy said, “You've got nerve.
My dog is off limits, you perv!
Plus you see I'm a mess
with torn gingham, no less.
I don't seem to have the same verve.”
She managed to rise from the bricks.
Oh great, she thought. Lost in the sticks!
And her new ruby pumps
had just taken some lumps.
I hope Oz does a **** shoe fix.
“I've got a head bump from the twister,
so keep a good distance there, Mister.
My Toto's a killer,
he bite off your tiller
and all you'll have left is a blister.”
Dale Gregory Cozart
"They got it wrong", tin man said with a sigh
"Ten should be spelled with and e, not an I,"
"So here's a new plan,"
"Hook up with Ten man"
"On my bucket list you're very high!"
Pat Adams
Poor tin man’s willy was rusty
When aroused he’s feeling quite lusty
Dot gives him a greasing
His passion’s unceasing
Especially as Dot is so busty
Jan Allison
Feel free to join in. Soup mail me. More stanzas coming later.
Categories:
greasing, fantasy, humor, satire,
Form:
Limerick
You made a lot of money
selling lewd photos of nude
Then you parlayed your profits
into cyber surfing —
triple X cinema ***** crude
Nasty video sex business you were so into
Your vested interest was
a skin flick portfolio bankroll ...
Dirty money bottom line
Letting curious customers
put their cyber bit coins into the virtual pay slot
So they can take a ride on the carnal carousel
Then make them get off ...
Have them taste naked flesh boiling hot
in an abominable lascivious pot
You are so proud of yourself,
Mr. Sleazy bit coin billionaire
You make it so easy —
sex suckers love to lick poisoned lollipop sticks
Getting minds addicted to wicked desires,
those tempting tokens are gonna take ‘em there
You’re so filthy rich cavalier ...
crushing souls, you really don’t care
What those turned-out cyber tramps,
hopefully, will come to one day understand,
those grimy bit coins
is greasing somebody’s dirty hand
And that palm is on a beach somewhere
getting a penthouse triple X suntan
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty old man
with a Howard Weinstein leer
Bit coin billionaire,
you got sticky floor hands
and semen oil slick hair
Spreading your cyber surfing
triple X flotsam everywhere
You’re just a devilish voyeur,
a nickel-and-dime fleshpot billionaire
Your trashy ways smells like
a STD flea-bitten garbage can
And your infectious craves are a
CDC health hazard quarantine
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty money man
with semen snake oily hands
Bit coin billionaire,
with filthy green scaly skin
In need of some brimstone lotion
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty money man
with sticky floor hands
Bit coin billionaire,
with filthy lucre ashy skin
In need of a brimstone suntan
This poem was inspired by the
talented Richard Lamoureux’s poem,
“Church Perfect Surface.”
— Romantic Warrior
Categories:
greasing, corruption, money, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Ode
Titbit scars to feed emotions crimson;
In Her gloomy heart by her wet season.
As Her solstice endorses a greasing red,
She revels off a goad instead...
To each bliss cusp she gladly deflowers,
I cavort rue to each rose's hour;
As fingertips writhe in snow-white flesh
the sate of Love's cappella caress...
My emotions ascend to a God with black wings,
And soon this soul taken from pentacle rings.
But first I am descending before Her throne,
Her chest still racks that abyssal stone!
Prurient crucifixion of an annulled witch hunt.
Nascent Shangri to Her mire c*nt.
Her emotions strong enough to splendour fires,
This libertine forges Her foreplay desires.
Taken of the pulpit by a tyrant crevasse,
Splay out on an Oratory's cerise glass.
As she leers like the silver Moon...
I sprawl to Her with greatest tempt,
Only for me to feel contempt!
I scream ''You are my salvator'' as,
Blood pours where my sanguinary blade caress...
Categories:
greasing, death, depression, emo, how
Form:
Personification
my grandpa's bike needs greasing, so do his knees
he hates his bike and wants to walk with the breeze
Categories:
greasing, grandfather,
Form:
Grook
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
I never cared for your fake
Eddie Haskell face at all
Your tart tongue cut my birthday cake ...
seedy, greedy hands took a slice not small
This here Beav got a nose that can tell,
and you no good weasel got a bad putrid smell
Your flattering lips
is always greasing the dish spoon
Serving up hollow compliments every time
your pitter patter enter the room
Been hearing your chitter chatter far too long,
the gift of your gab is like a warped vinyl song
You’re an annoying teapot whistling on and on
I never liked you,
and your bad breath words
that smell like dung
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
I never took a shine
to your Lady Conniva brown nose talk
Always got your face between the buns,
making it real hard for a person to walk
Your motives are naked to me,
my open eyes they can rightly see
You got a wrong purpose in your heart,
don’t really care about nobody but you
But I ain’t gonna let you getaway go-cart
with whatever it is you’re planning to do
Because I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
Saw right thru your phony facade too
Yes, yes ... yes I did
I never liked you
no, no ... no, no
never I did
Never did like you
Now how you like that —
hearing the truth!
Categories:
greasing, emotions, how i feel,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Get right with the creator...
Teach your kids how to fish.
Give EVERYBODY a second chance or even a third
(that's if they're not to vicious).
After that you're wasting your-breath- my dirty dime.
Do hire more GOOD police they're quite necessary
To keep the hell hounds off the streets.
Thin out the Neapolitan herd of
STRAWBERRY KNEED race baiting politicians.
BLACK HEARTED MEDIA HEADS.
Billowing out the pale sludge of lie and half-truths.
Thin out the GREEN- EYED OLIGHARCS.
Greasing the souls and crotches of politicians.
Do promote peace within your family.
Don't paint people in your backwash of hate...
The community will bud-cities will bloom...again.
Tend to your teeth -a smile will naturally follow.
A smile can make all the difference.
....and did I mention, get right with God.
We'll all be better off...somewhat.
Categories:
greasing, abuse,
Form:
Free verse
When comes an encouragement
Heart really gets enjoyment
It cancels every resentment
Laying for hope a basement
Life daily suffers bombardment
Comes to boost no compliment
Gloom lives in heart-compartment
Memory brings only disappointment
I see the souls living on pavement
And I wonder God's life-management
Many live with really no employment
Giving to poverty an appointment
Under this vast God's firmament
All the souls have disagreement
Peace of mind is never permanent
No Universal laws' enactment
Loving is not done with commitment
Lives are not lived with involvement
In heart, happens no improvement
Only wickedness is in brain-segment
Affection is an invisible ointment
Loving is the best temperament
Kindness does lovely anointment
Mercy is the greasing sentiment
When heart attains contentment
Soul will never foolishly lament
As 'enough' is the finest element
Bringing bliss equal to an elephant
Helping is the holiest entertainment
Patting saves from a sad predicament
Prayer appeals to God's department
God arranges for a safe settlement
When God is there to affectionately cement
Great ideas, we surely can easily invent
Tragedies' occurrence, we can ever prevent
In case we supply hope to kindly augment
Using soothing language if we supplement
We will contribute to souls' betterment
Mr. Jack Ellison has made a kind comment
So to thank him this poetry is now meant.
mvvenkataraman
Categories:
greasing, thank you, hope,
Form:
Quatrain
Fate's Footfalls
'Crimson Tides of the Underverse'
Ladders we climb, greasing the grime, in mountains of malignant moral
Committing our crime, with rhythm and rhyme, impending the immoral
Foreshadowing fates, we open the gates, arming the quantizing quarrel
Creation creates, sad sorrow awaits, within the ambient Adonic auroral
Beyond the tides, where love divides, the moonlit metaphorical shores
Decision decides, our confusion confides, the embryonal egg explores
The minstrels play, behind the floral bouquet, the pandemonium pours
Trampled by truth, egotistical youth, the wordsmith weathers the wars
Silent screams, within decompositional dreams, a dramaturgical destiny
Truth or dare, we all shall bear, the crippling crosses of effusive entropy
Eyes that bleed, now take heed, for who is your friend or emulous enemy
Fissiparous fate, a harbinger of hate, providing a pandemic penal penalty.
March.06.2018
FATE'S FOOTFALLS
Sponsored by: John lawless
Categories:
greasing, destiny, fate, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
" The oven is set on three hundred and fifty degrees;
the box of the Pillsbury Yellow cake is still unopened, for George's sake,
the kids are in the living room munching on cheese,
who's going to make the perfect batter for Ricky's birthday cake? "
" If no one volunteers, turn off your iPods and put them away
and come to the kitchen to give a hand...isn't it somebody's birthday?
It would be nice to see one use the mixer, the other greasing the pan...
how many of your friends have you invited? I hope not more than ten! "
And giggling they exchange words, thinking I don't hear their whispering;
I was a teen once and know how they think, but today they won't be laughing!
Hurry, bake the yellow cake...we have only two hours left, they'll be coming soon!
" Mary set the table, everything must look fantastic! No, don't lick the spoon!
The door suddenly opens...twenty five teens come into view and say, " Surprise! "
Hundred of small balloons are released from their hands...their thrill rises.
" Good Heavens! Who are these kids with faces painted like circus clowns? "
Have you asked them to attend this party? Where are the real guests? "
Silence filled the aroma-filled kitchen as they looked downward with embarrassment,
" Are they here to crush your birthday party, Ricky...if they are they will get
a taste of my dough roller right now! " No, mom...they want to throw my birthday cake into my face! " " Have they told you so? Wait here, Ricky...I'll think of a trick."
" Hi, cuties...are you ready to have a cake fight? " Yeah, " was their answer.
" Let's do it...do you want to hear a big mommy's laughter when your eyes will burn? "
The smallest one in the group yelled, " The birthday cake had better taste good
or your red face will turn yellow! " " Little rascal, you'll churn like butter! "
In a second the whole house became a battleground... they hurled cupcakes,
cookies and candies, but they had forgotten about the cake in the oven.
Smoke came out of their ears and noses... mom laughed when they ran
outside as if they had seen a real ghost, " Run for your lives before my dog attacks! "
Categories:
greasing, family, food, children, friendship,
Form:
Rhyme