Best Slobbering Poems
And I witness
Your deplorable “glory”
Hunching over my tattered spine,
So we can have something in common
You walk with glorified shell-shock,
Another sentient tongue,
Straddling on the Eros of vindication
Your sandpaper hands
Reach for an assaulted tenderness
Embracing lambasted lyric
Another tenor’s proclamation
That their oxidized octaves
Are legitimately sound
…
Nobody is listening.
…
So, you try to rectify your ill-erect
Compass
Only heading south
Bound
By meandering prophecies,
Unwritten
Undeclared
Just another pre-historic fool
Believing the Jamaican grass is greener on
The other side
Puff your corrupted beliefs
Toward laundered Benjamins
While I soak in the bloodied joy,
That I remain priceless
…
Approach me
While you suffer tiny warden syndrome
In High Definition
Be the insignificant syllable that
Becomes, you, a fragmented figment
Of your re-imagination
Call in your slobbering pinchers and
Convince them why dethroning my smile
Will be that change you conspire,
Because I stood taller than the arrogant
Umbilical c(h)ord that breastfeeds your high horse
For I am you
I am you
Every kick, every punch, every verbal attack
Every overcompensating, born-again glare
You blasphemously portray
But, it is not me you scar.
IT IS NOT ME THAT YOU SCAR!
…
Your one-night stand with perception
Succumbs your third-eye
Keep drinking from your bloodied, rustic w(h)ine glass,
As you drown in your declarations of dependence
Screaming to be louder than love
Louder than your ordained intentions
To become a speck of importance
To be worth something,
Something more,
Than the lunging foot you believe
Will keep me down
©D.J.E.
Categories:
slobbering, abuse, bullying, life, people,
Form:
Free verse
I take firm grasp of the handle
My goal reflected in the steel of the knife,
I put the knife to its green face
Its' checkered skin;
I flex my bicep, grimace with thirst
I remember the day’s troubles,
The day’s triumphs, And I cut
The blade breaks the rough surface
Shatters the smooth oval,
And sinks deep into the soft redness beneath
Juice flows over my hands, and I forget my thoughts,
I reach in and take firm grasp of its heart
I wrench it out with red dripping fingers
Slobbering it into my mouth
The sweetness of the watermelon sends my heart racing with joy
And I reminisce that I had forgotten the plate.
P.S, for those who may not know, the sweetest part of the watermelon is the heart (hence
reaching for the heart)
© Samir Georges
2010
Categories:
slobbering, food, happinessheart, heart,
Form:
Free verse
We gathered for our thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I'd avoided such past events since in school I was largely ignored!
But my spouse proclaimed we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate!
A social hour preceded the buffet where the booze freely flowed!
I looked about the room to see if I could spot anyone that I knowed.
I hardly recognized the campus queen - she had acquired a heap of weight!
That once haughty snob now tipped the scales, I judged, at one ninety-eight!
I saw the big-man-on-campus who was named most apt to score success.
He had a dearth of hair, an ample gut and an astonishing lack of finesse!
Some gal with purple hair staggered up to me and planted a slobbering kiss!
Must've been one of my old flames as I mused, "Now, who in hell is this!"
Guys gravitated my way boasting about this and that bending my ear.
They bored me with nasty jokes and trivia that I really didn't want to hear!
Of course I told all how great they looked, staring them dead in the eye,
And asking the Lord's forgiveness and crossed my fingers for telling such a lie!
The jocks were trying to impress one and all with their waning capabilities.
Most were hobbling about with canes discreetly masking their disabilities!
'Twas an interesting eve and the grub was great, of that there is no doubt,
But for our fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth reunions, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
slobbering, funny, school, me, me,
Form:
Rhyme
There was pity for one second for the victim in this case,
when 'Hilly', 'Bee' and me were walking to our drinking place.
We were slobbering in thought for what keeps us all afloat,
then 'Hilly's' eyes flew open wide - "Is that a hundred dollar note!"
A hundred 'bucks' was lying there upon the unknown nature strip.
'Should we hand it in' 'Bee' mentioned with a quivered bottom lip,
but the vote was three to zero when 'Hilly' mentioned that the 'brass',
"Would buy a slab of VB plus half an ounce of 'grass".
'Bee' and I ain't into drugs but seeing 'Hilly' found the cash,
we brought ourselves the VB and let 'Hilly' buy his 'stash',
then walked to the Catholic Church and sat around the back,
where we drank our first three cans and 'Hilly' opened up his 'pack'.
I watched him lick his papers, and stick together three or four,
and roll his 'grass' just like a 'snag' but then he broke the law.
He lit the 'joint' and took a drag, but then went 'glassy eye',
and from this point was senseless, and believed that he could fly!
Not only did he flap his wings; 'Hilly' thought that it was hot,
and stripped down to his birthday suit displaying what he's got.
'Bee' and I laughed at his antics 'til he ran out on the street,
and done his style of ballet dancing 'round, everyone he'd meet.
No matter how we tried to help him 'Hilly' stuffed the plan,
with a big grin on his dial and shouting out 'peace man!'
It might be alright for 'Hilly' thinking all the worlds at peace,
but that became a different matter with intrusion of p'lice.
Because we're in the company of a bloke whose floating high,
the coppers threw us in the van for what I don't know why!
But said they wanted statements from the pair of us, that's all,
while 'Hilly' stumbled out some garble 'bout making a phone call.
Now under legal obligation 'Hilly' dialed and then he spoke,
and in a very short time at the desk there stood a bloke.
The copper said, "Are you the lawyer, for that doped up dill?"
"No" the bloke replied - "I've got pizza's here for David Hill".
Categories:
slobbering, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
When I’ve gone
to the place
where my fathers’
have gone before me
and the last tribute
has been paid to my memory,
may my singing words
crack the silence with clanging echoes.
May the clanging echoes
excite starving eyes
and taut wrinkled eardrums—
both to awareness—
guiding them
to actions of liberation
yet to come.
May clanging echoes
wake-up sleeping souls suffering
uncertainties of tyrannical rule,
slobbering from political absurdities,
drooling from mouths of misguided evil
diagnostic odysseys—peddling false hope
to precariously lost wanderers.
May my clanging echoes echo ringing
bells of freedom that can’t be unrung:
“Oh death where is thy sting?”
“Oh grave, where is thy victory?”
Poets will die;
but the ringing chords
of their words will live long lives:
Echoing clanging echoes…
Categories:
slobbering, allegory, analogy, death, hope,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Earth trots
Behind the meandering
Leashed by their anxieties
And we in silence
Cannot tell of our perplexities
This age
Is too politically correct
And will not stand
Such truths
There is no lattitude for correction
No urgency
To mend fences
'Fore the frivolous forays of destruction
The seeming acquisition of intellect
Is nothing more than brawn of tongue
Defending the flimsy vulnerabilities
Of hoisted egos
A status quo of exhibitions
The panting tongue
Exalting empty ambition
Tempestuous slobbering
It is such a sensitive subject
Our fragile self esteem
And the earth
At dog school.
Categories:
slobbering, political
Form:
Free verse
Something about eastern thunderstorms
All that electric summer heavy heat
The sudden weight of the air when the birds grew quiet and still
The big black slobbering dogs came up onto the porches
While quietly gathering behind the homes and groves of trees
The dark purple grey frowning skies, then the distant
Rolling rumbling began warm winds whipped and wailed
The willows bowed and twisted in a frenzied dance
Little girls ran out to join, kicking off their flip flops
Wrapping themselves in the wind carried honeysuckle scents
The thunder growled in a deep throated chant
As bright white light slashed the skies
Then the thunder rumbled again and again
Little girls squealed in horror and delight
Ran for their porches as the rain came down
Beating the ground in heavy silver sheets
And the wind roared with the rain
The thunder rumbled and growled
As they washed the heaviness in the air away
All that electric heavy heat
Categories:
slobbering, seasonsrain, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Still the bone remained....
Pulling on his chain; ever snarling
A tug of war with, her tree as meat loaf
Became his dreams and gobble said the turkey
Unto her queen bee ? Blue bishops atop pogo sticks a fly
With one big eye siphoning the marrow from time's sparrow; slobbering
Their madman howls holy cow his orange cat meows wow, where has Alice gone.
Categories:
slobbering, bullying, creation, humorous, inspiration,
Form:
Dictionary describes the word “dactylion”
As the tip of your middle finger
So if someone gives you the dactylion
They're giving you a zinger!
Have you ever been subjected to “gargalesis”
It's described as heavy tickling
Love being gargalesis in certain areas
Might even involve some licking
Do you know a word that accurately describes
Incessant or idiotic laughter
The dictionary describes it as “abderian”
Shaking the room to the rafters
When someone's eyes start to “oculoplania”
They're assessing someone's charms
I've always called it just plain old ogling
Not meant to cause any harm
The dictionary describes “slubberdegullion”
As a filthy slobbering individual
Known a few of these guys in my time
They leave a quite nasty residual
A person who hates smelling tobacco smoke
Is called a “misocapnist”
That's me for sure I'm surely a misocapnist
Probably number one on the list
And now to end with something distasteful
It's the word “krukolibidinous”
It's the act of staring at someone's crotch
What say you, had enough?
© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories:
slobbering, humorous, words,
Form:
Quatrain
twasn’t an absence of belief in
hexes or voodoo ****, black magic,
witches or warlocks,
which brought to mind the maddening
of the crickets, for
900 species of those sinister gryllidae
couldn’t be wrong &
they came anyway---
chirping their nocturnal nonsense &
forcing the writer to rack her brain,
as all she wanted was to keep the
mental
pedal
to the
metal &
yet, nature allows no rest for the
proverbial wicked---
with said writer being the type
who would stick it out to the last
moment of supposed sanity,
she finally snapped!
not being able to get a word down
because of those damn crickets,
not being able to get a sentence down
because of those goddamned crickets,
not being able to get a paragraph down
(with a deadline at hand) in the middle
of the goddamned morning,
amidst the noise pollution just outside
her window,
all because of those
god****ingdamned crickets!!!
so swiftly,
like the wing’s flap of the most
eloquent great bird which comes to
mind,
she jumped from her seat & went to the
gun cabinet---
there, she kept a bb gun, a fashionable
revolver that once having the CO2 capsule
popped in, looked menacing enough
(she felt) to fend off an intruder,
whilst at the same time, it didn’t really
infringe upon her stance on gun control.
with this, she went outside,
bb gun in hand &
started blazing away
without any real notion that what she
commenced
would put any dent in the insanity that these
goddamned crickets
had manifested upon her
&
as the chirping sounds did not &
would not cease,
she dropped to her knees after her
bb gun was empty,
weeping, sobbing &
slobbering tears & spit all over herself,
curled up in a fetal position right out
there in her back yard,
submitting herself to the servitude of
the insects at hand.
Categories:
slobbering, life,
Form:
Free verse
Going back to see some old friends of mine
Hope I don't start slobbering and spilling my wine
Miss them a big bunch
Will be happy as punch
Hope I don't embarrass myself and say things asinine
Categories:
slobbering, happiness,
Form:
Limerick
Surfing her parks hanging out at the johns
Playbook play writes recipricated his southside
Invasion rock their dock in red rag love make-up wardrobe ?
We knew of a bit it was your solo show and she really likes her numbers
Makes the _itch feel somehow secure while their slobbering about someone's
Fornication playing songs as cutting lines desperation pegged in tears surfing this goodbye.
Categories:
slobbering, baby, baptism, love,
Form:
MIDDLE EARTH
I see the gaping maw approaching
ivory white saliva covered teeth
slobbering over red gums
tongue lolling about
reaching for my face.
Knees!! Dammit!!! Knees!!
God are there some ugly knees
rippled, dimpled, dumpling shaped
sticking through the holes in new jeans
smiling at me.
Butts!! Posteriors!! Cheek-sets!!
Bumping and bouncing
a constant “cha-cha-cha”
rippling tide afloat in yoga pants
spandex containment
seeking release.
Table bottoms….gawd-a-mighty
therapy….yes!!…I’ll need therapy
Don’t let me touch that stuff!!!
Better yet….stop sticking whatever
under the tables.
I see crotches…grabbed
by men….not playing baseball
just …. just….damn….more therapy
and women in spray painted
“body clinging” fashion art.
I see other kids…in strollers
at the edge of shock
unprepared for what awaits them
around the corner
just down the block.
9/1/2015
submitted to – Through the eyes of a child – Poetry Contest
Categories:
slobbering, child, humor,
Form:
Verse
A sizable portion of my life
I've passed, slobbering over
The antagonistic ashes
Of an untruth.
Years down the road,
By accident, I exposed;
Though this untruth,
Was deeply entombed in my psyche,
Via a mental backhoe,
Satan periodically excavates it
Sans a spade.
Categories:
slobbering, angst,
Form:
Blank verse
Imagine a world where only you and I exist
and only you and I matter.
No boundaries ,
no limits, no
consequences...Only you and I free.
Free to behave as we feel
free to express our undeniable love
for one another in a way that we've never thought possible.
Now, Imagine me in this world..
overwhelmed by the joy that I fell now that
I have a chance to show you that I am
officially and will always be...
all yours for the taking
Because this here is our world and
in it we can reach the ultimate climax that
comes without the illusion of doubt...
because I want to see you explode all over me
Imagine me taking off all of my clothes and
turning on all of the lights....Touching vulupuious
polcretude in hopes of becoming all of what you desire..
Caressing my soft satin wanting you more
with every stroke between my legs..
Begging for your assistance with every lick of my nipples
Screaming your name with every clap of my cheeks...
Baby I'm yours please just take me!
Imagine me walking towards you;
lust in my eyes...love in my heart
Intentions to please every last one of your need
in any and every possible world.
Imagine me french kissing you passionately
from top to bottom...in hopes of tasting every last drop
of your thirst quenching bodily juices
Imagine me seductively massaging your chest
just before I beggin my feast there...
making you feel like the man you've always wished to be
awaiting my next endeavor
Imagine me provocatively stroking your manhood
while slowly french kissing his tip...Enjoying all of
the pre-orgasmic juices that taste so sweet as the slide
onto to my tongue
Imagine me sucking and slobbering all over him..
no teeth only tongue and throat...Moaning in joy
as his head hits my tonsils as I deep throa
with no gag reflex..
I can Taste your love forever!
Imagine my punani soaked in my warm juices
as a result of the pleased look in your eyes...
hot and anxious to feel your throbbing manhood deep inside
of her love exploring all that my body has to offer.
Imagine yourself suddenly coming back to reality
only to realize that it was all nothing more
than just an image
A figure of your intense and quite disturbing
imagination
Categories:
slobbering, imagination, mystery, passion, me,
Form: