Best Lecher Poems
I just found out.....
Well, I don't know how to say it?
Would you think less of me
If I say just the way it is?
I thought I was a Macho man,
A rollicking Romeo,
A lusting Lothario, A libertine,
A Don Juan, A Casanova,
A raving stud, A flirt,
A prowling philanderer, A womanizer,
A playboy, A skirt chaser, A lecher;
But by golly, I am none of the above!
I found.....
I am .... Well, I am,
I am GAY!
Aha! Gotcha!! Not so fast!!!
I mean HAPPY!
I am a HAPPY MAN!
~A Brian Strand Contest.
"Make their jaws drop" contest by FJ Thomas
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini."
- Jack Freestone
Bikini Betty's Beef
A randy surfer from Malibu Crest
Untied the bikini top off of Celest
You’re my Betty let’s hang loose
As he tried for her caboose
Celest slapped his hand away from her breast
Aloha Barney, this isn't your turf
A lecher you are who can’t even surf
Damn men with no brains, think again
Bet you’ve never even hung ten
I’m not your Betty, uncool stupid Smurph
by I Am Anaya
As striking as a Malibu Barbie doll
Gals in bikinis I love, summer and fall
But I'm classy and kind
And so drawn to their mind
That they need not wear a bikini at all
by Robert Gorelick
Lekker!
Oh, my! A lecher is near us, you say?
No, I didn’t use C-H. Lekker uses a K.
What did you mean? Was it *“Lick her” you said?
And just who should I lick? Are you out of your head?
NO! Lekker! It’s NICE.
How gross can you get? Licking some person that you've never met!
No, it’s just LEKKER. I didn’t say LICK.
Well, good! I’m not licking some girl. That’s just sick.
Am I hearing you right? Are you trying to say . . .
*“like her”? Just who do you like anyway?
Not “i” as in “like.” Is your head made of wood?
It’s LEKKER, a word which simply means GOOD.
Ok, cool your jets! You’ve gone red in the face.
Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?!
* In American English, at least, if a person says "Lick 'er" or "Like 'er"
it is meant as "lick her" or "like her" since we often omit the H sound
of pronouns like him and her after a preceding consonant sound.
For the Lekker Contest of Suzette Crous
Limerick: Once a lean Lecher in his nineties
Once a lean Lecher in his nineties
Wondered if he could relive his twenties:
He went on a diet
Of French fries and cutlet:
The Wench said it felt like rigor mortis !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Woman, why must you play the harlot?
You wash yourself, shampoo your hair,
put on make-up, with extreme care.
Then you dress up, with scanty clothes,
run out the door, and hit the road.
Why must you play the harlot?
In the strip club, you gab well,
Sweetly proclaim, lap dance for sell.
Your mind's fixed, on the money,
If fools don't pay, they get no honey.
Why must you play the harlot?
You then haste, your way on home,
Call up a lecher, on the phone.
You say, baby, I need some action;
I'm talking physical, sexual seduction.
Why must you play the harlot?
The lecher arrives, at your door,
You let 'em in, ya' hit the floor.
The air cools, but blood heated,
Flesh on flesh, two souls inebriated.
Why must you play the harlot?
Well, I don't know how to say this?
Would you think less of me
If I say just the way it is?
I thought I was a Macho man,
A rollicking Romeo,
A lusting Lothario, A libertine,
A Don Juan, A Casanova,
A raving stud, A flirt,
A prowling philanderer, A womanizer,
A playboy, A skirt chaser, A lecher…
But by golly, I am none of the above!
I found out.....
I am .... Well, I am,
I am Gay!
Aha! Gotcha!!
Not so fast.
I mean HAPPY
I am a Happy Man!
Woman weeping wondering why
Distraught she is betrayed
Faithless fellow flirtation foiled
Much to his dismay.
Revulsion, Retribution, Revenge
Feelings so abhorrent to her life
Lying, Licentious lecher
Has disillusioned faithful wife
Adoring , Absolute adoration
The sun shone from his eyes
How hard he has hit her
With his philandering and lies.
Beast , Betrayer , Bastard
The thoughts she has of him now
Pathetic perpetrator pleading
Desperate to escape the row.
Marvellous marriage muddied
Her heart broken and in pain
Wonderful woman, Wronged ex wife
Vows never to weep again.
Before that day splashed everything with light
I played in solitude with cuddly clouds
And watched them form changing figures, blight
The sky or bring the sobbing sludge of rain,
Or etch your portrait
where the spindly sparrow fly
looping your beauty with the breathless sun
We watched them
fall like shattered diamonds
once from a window battered
with fragile
dreams
of tomorrow
And you said they were our prancing children in the water
Little Shangos you called them, and we kissed
In passion, filling love with lissom lilacs of laughter
For life was an eternal summer then
Winter was barred from where it had never been
Barren landscape scarred by the lecher, not the sun
Shrivelling petals and prayers, lynching the hearts like trees
Barren
and scraggy
shredding the eye
Brambled
fingers clutching sky
Tolling voids of air like a crucifix
Self important because of the importunate
Castling citadels of calamity against the hearts fear
The wind exploits the calamity of leaves
Only a shell of sultry shadows was left
And I bereft
Tented my exultation
To wait your coming again
And the annihilation of pain.
Clouds are drifters of the sky, I am enfolded in cerulean blue
Dark indigo of heart on the promenade
Children feet splashing the frazzled dry of sand
I shriek like a gull slant against the wind
Where the splashed sand grits the eye
Summer seas are all of winter's tears rinsed in light
Itinerant birds frolic here: innocence excited emits delight,
For lovers are children
Too trusting uncarefully
Undermarcated wrong or right
As summer splash them like sprays
Glinting the eye Where the starving eagle plays'
I slant away to reminisce alone.
In a world beyond Almighty's plan
Abode of cursed Magdalena's clan
Felicity and benisons barely fall
Debauchery is employment's call
Carnality's for sale at market of sin
Angels bargaining joy with Satan's kin
Bartering flesh in the name of pence
To satiate needs 'ven at their expence
Two boars prepare for a sodomy rite
Pederasty and lust in a putrid site
Carnivores at the neon-lighted house
Making love without solemn vows
Not long born souls on Demon's hand
Given to lecher, a price for Gourmand
Barbies and bairn at Brothel's den
Molded to become Fornicator's hen
Small feet, small hands,
so meek his timid shy tongue could
barely speak but mumbles-
soft words carried away by the
slightest wisp of breeze.
Soft brown hair covering a lecher head
with thoughts buried deep,
strange ideas from a cloaked little mouse.
"Come, let's dine on aged cheese and the finest wine."
Well, why not? I longed for a friend, but the
boyish grin was hiding pointed teeth.
The bashful charm masked
dragon fire, and creatures
crawling on floors of oceans deep.
Long smooth arms were waiting
to twine like a snake coiled in a
wet patch of grass.
Sitting at the white-linen table
the candle flickered in the dark
where goblets held tainted red secrets.
Goose flesh gives a sign (as it is not cold)
and stark-naked lies awaken from
their dank den. Through the veil...
through the cloak...black feckless eyes
peered in an odd way and I knew then-
darkness has no friends.
I sailed an olive boat
into the center of the sea
alone
to find a cure for my loose heart
not the spring-back type, noble with elasticity
but leap-forward lecher-wild
binding to any skirted frame and drooping hemline
like friendly burrs in shrubbery lanes
sat in an olive boat
drifting mid-seas
unaccompanied but for Hope to land a cure upon my knees
to heal my lousy, narcissistic zeal
an insatiable human thinks like a possessed apiary
an overwrought dam
I tonsured my beatific locks
as bare as Samson
hoodwinked
by his pet Flytrap
tossed reflective surfaces, anything that would give my face
a way to self-seduction
safe in a roasted green-pea float
lost like dead at sea
to recover a voice that scarcely has been mine
its echo returns not
through bursting towns
busy at trade
hawkers cawing,
hucksters' crow delirious,
chattering cashboxes
traffic snakes wending
Nowhere do they end in time
always metal and rust
ferric towering towers, condominium pride,
noisome domiciles, toxic steel cages
barring the success of this voice~
the sound of your mind drowned inside the urban brawl
not a jot of space to reckon nor conciliate
blushing-rushing-golden consciences
an echo may not return to its sender then ~
a man with no name.
Toss and twirl I roll in bed
Do not cast your magical spell
I hate to relate to the ugliness
Of a faceless creature spread like cress
Right across the mind so strong
U have weaved your aura too prolonged
The more I struggle to free myself
I find you weaving in my tread
Struggling and fuming gone in vain
Will you release me of this pain
Curl those fingers and go away
Or show your face right away
Coming through the hidden screen
Like a slimy lecher u demean
Laughing at my pitiful plight
Impatient for your last flight
SUNKAN
Toss and twirl I roll in bed
Do not cast your magical spell
I hate to relate to the ugliness
Of a faceless creature spread like cress
Right across the mind so strong
U have weaved your aura too prolonged
The more I struggle to free myself
I find you weaving in my tread
Struggling and fuming gone in vain
Will you release me of this pain
Curl those fingers and go away
Or show your face right away
Coming through the hidden screen
Like a slimy lecher u demean
Laughing at my pitiful plight
Impatient for your last flight....SUNKAN
We need help out here!
We’re now gripped with fear!
At all costs: something,
Not ‘fruitless Nothing’
By all means do so:
Right here a go-slow!
Shaking hands to rule:
Everyone ‘ A fool’
Some in chairs Plain Dunce,
Hence I crave response;
Fatherland Nothing,
Where goes anything.
Men dread a failed growth
‘Blood of Jesus quoth…
We need help out here.
I mean ‘here’ not there;
Lecher times his leer
For another’s deer…
Unsafe life too dear,
Its killers too near!
A Prophets End to Invasion
They were besotted
And long they stood with their clans men
their adamant frenzy breaking the strain in their eyes
gawping at the infamous injustice done
the dangling figure hung
with loop and gaudy blood
limp in their half seeing light
The uniformed aliens taking a stroll
the curfew bell rang sharp
almost brutal
down the abandoned alleyways of the one time
cornucopia
a dirge is sung
bemoaning their dear sweet concubine
oh where oh where was Columbine
In the hanging square this cringe of faces
milled and cried
show us something
give us cabaret
show us eternity
give to us this monstrosity
Voices in tune with their monotonous isolation
beseeching the crystallized prophets
as they rolled in tanks and armoury
waving the flag of their bedlam
the aliens returning once again
to another hero hung
from the bow of a slender tree
malice aforethought grown to onslaught
on the figure head
choked on his fine cup of blood
A crown of Apes and thorns
Labeled him the shyster
the pseudo man
crying
“don’t touch the sycophant it is taboo
don’t taunt the warrior
the lecher may come for you
don’t dare to look upon him
the dead face of our renaissance”
So the masquerade was done
the Christ is hung
the fable has gone
they are lost in their cybernetic burlesque of confusion
once the satyr made his revelation
but not one of them dared to look upon
the face
of their dead rebellion