The red pills are out again
all hot and bothered on menopause
Angry Birds
spewing angry words
we need a poo poet to respond
to these silly turds
Now Kamala I am sure has lied
a time or two
she's a politician, who cares red or blue
now Trump
who can not read or write
as lied to you thousands of times
I just lied
Is billions
I lied again
Is trillions
Angry Birds hate
like bats in a cave
their world is all upside down
no one told them
they are the clowns
There views are formed
by a little tube in front of them
they have no empathy
nor humanity
They are couch terrorists
frauds for sure
excited by burning flesh
soon behind them
The lion will roar
The baker had a busy day,
Making pies, cakes and bread
He was hot and bothered
And was looking forward
To rest his weary head.
He made some gingerbread men
And put them on a tray
He switched on the oven
And cleared his implements away
The cookies smelled delicious,
Good enough to eat
No one was suspicious
Of the effects of that oven's heat
Eventually, the gingerbread men were done,
The baker examined them
Every single one
Some looked perfect
Just as they should
Some were an ugly shape
That was not good.
Some too soft
Others were brittle
Some too brown
And some too little.
The poor weary baker
Felt very sad
As he looked at the biscuit tray
He was upset and mad
Because he did not like to waste
Any imperfect biscuits, cake or bread
They had the same taste
So he crumbled up
The disfigured biscuits instead.
As the workworn baker put his hat on the shelf
At the end of a long day
The perfect gingerbread man mumbled
That is how the cookie crumbles
Goober went panning for gold in the creek
Hot and bothered, needed to take a leak ~
Goober pulled down his drawers
His hose produced more and more ~
Cried, "O, my, but doesn't liquid gold reek!"
O brother, they closed the brothel!
Beer and barmaid breath is closed.
Banter with corsets and silk stockings
withheld - the downy frown of ‘stache.
The itch of a cattle drive — the rawhide
chaffed and fettered,
all the while driven by unholy sex.
O brother, a frightful fight broke out
like measles planted from head to toe.
when you fantasized her soft skin,
her tongue lash —all those miles and miles -
the special one you call Maisy,
but boards like bandaids hammered
into place. No neon sign to contemplate.
You bring yourself back home, poor soul,
to your hot and bothered bride. There
you find the ride you’d forgotten.
You smile surprised. Only problem is
she makes you bathe and shave,
won’t allow you that chew or that beer.
O brother, they closed the brothel!
2/23/2021
Contest: They Closed the Brothel
Sponsor: Kai Neumann
Make An Exception
This is what I want you to do. Make an exception because this is ME. I want you to make an exception each and every time. I'm unique and not like the others. I'm no sheep or herd animal. I reserve the right to be an exception. This is my personal right. And I'll use it every time.
Don't group me with the rest. They are them and I am ME. There's a big difference there. If I want to listen to gothic rock music, I will. No crap boy bands for me. If I want to send a story about fixing cars to a cookery magazine, I will.
It's me who got the ladies all hot and bothered with a 22MM spanner.
Because I'm the exception. Not the only exception, the actual exception. My full tattoo coverage confirms this. As does my harsh words when life get tough. Do I want to be perfect? No. Maybe you all should be. Then I'm even more of an exception.
Maybe we're subjugated to
certain subjects and
I revolve around you
while you reflect on me.
Maybe we are light
and part night.
Energy and passion
overflowing; amassing,
Oceans of surplus
maybe your touch unmasks me
while mine
has the opposite effect
covering you.
Maybe we undress
clothing ourselves
in one another.
hot and bothered
and our lips haven't
even performed
acts of sedition yet.
Deep conversations
cause soul conversions.
Our tongue's
provide unbelievable
submersions
holding your breath
innumerably
while I breathe
a good word
upon you
indefinitely
Inhale to your exhale
making love with
the movement of air.
I am a slave to my emotions
When my muse is on the loose,
She cares not what state I'm in.
I know she does not give a hoot.
I start to write not knowing where
she plans to lead me if I dare.
Back in time to my broken heart.
Or leaping forward to a fresh start.
Often she's in her impish mode.
At times like those I really scold.
Occassionally she's hot and bothered,
saying things she knows she oughtn'd.
She plays with words and loves to rhyme.
Mixing and matching until they chime.
To think that I had lost my voice.
With a husband who removed all choice.
My poor little muse suffercating inside.
Go ahead Precious, I've turned the tide.
09/04/2016
A traditional four line rhyming poem with a little twist added.
For MISCHIEF contest.
You are my sun,
You are my smiles,
You are my blue sky,
Thats being seen from way up high,
You are the feeling,
Of butterflies in my tummy,
The cause of my laugh,
And my sweet soft voice,
When you put me to sleep,
You are the reason,
I become hot and bothered,
For your the only man,
I'll let fix that problem,
You are the ear,
That listens to me day and night,
Your arms wrapped around me,
Holding me tight,
You are the one,
To make my dreams become reality,
I know your not here in person,
But I can still feel you,
You are in my heart and soul,
And a lot of my mind,
You are my one and only,
For soon it will become,
And we will be a family,
You are the sparkles,
In my eyes,
The glow around my body,
The softness against my skin,
As I continue to see behind my eye lids,
It really is becoming harder and harder to live without you,
If only I would have found you sooner,
We would have already begun our lives....
When I was teenboy, nothing else mattered
Than making out in the back of a Chevy
With a gorgeous young hottie with boobs to die for
Breathing became rather heavy
Now I'll try to behave coz the censors are watching
And your computers will probably short circuit
With the powers vested in me, I'll try to behave
But it'll be quite a challenge I'll admit
All my many friends I have here on the Soup
Are aware of my penchant for the naughty stuff
After all what's life about but to wiggle and jiggle
While parading around town in the buff
So far the censors haven't any reason to complain
I've been relatively prim and proper
But I sure can't keep this up indefinitely though
I'll blow a gasket as I get all hot and bothered
Eventually though, I catch hold of myself
Since a teenboy, I've actually learned self-control
Can now walk down the street without molesting girls
And the drooling I've controlled on the whole
So in closing I'll say this, my very good friends
There should be a law that allows us guys
The freedom to molest hot voluptuous young fillies
And make out in the back of a Chevy as a prize
© Jack Ellison 2016
Cold Monday morning
He mumbles under his breath
Car engine stutters
As he turns the key in vain
Temperature is rising.
----------------------------------
Written ~ 20th March, 2015
Contest: Tanka 2
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placed: 4th
Think I'm just gonna bum around today
If you don't mind that old expression
Literally, I'm gonna goof off and waste time
Feeling lazy in a state of vegetation
These days are happening a lot more often
Became a senior, then suddenly plonk
Maybe it's because of my afternoon naps
I watch the tube and then zonk
Need to get active like the good old days
A whipper snapper all full of beans
The world was my oyster, yuck I hated oysters
Wearing skin tight faded blue jeans
Love bumming around, it's good for the soul
It also puts hair on your chest
Now ladies, I really love nice smooth boobies
So ya better stay active I suggest
Phew! Got quite hot and bothered for a bit
At my age, better cool it I'd say
Gonna goof off, waste time, vegetate for a bit
Eating bonbons, ogling ladies all day!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Sitting silently from a corner in the room. Watching, plotting, waiting and craving. Demonic thoughts dancing around my head. Toying with my tempting thoughts of painfully making you wish you were dead. Teasing your blood to spill forth from your veins. Playfully enjoying your blood spilling out of that grousum gash I put in your head now exposing your brain. Torturing you by repeatedly bringing you back from the dead. Sickeningly so hot and bothered from lying naked in the bloody space I made my bed. So close to climax then, gone. My eyes were forced open bringing me to f***ing realize it's sadly just one of my sick fantasies playing out in my head. Temper flaring yet again thanks to that trap you wont keep shut in that empty space you call your head. But, mmm, sweetly I think I will help you, I do carry a needle and thread.
My wife said our sex life, ”Is always the same…”
“You need to spice things up, and rekindle our flame”
So I got onto the net and researched lots of stuff
I took tons of notes and soon…I had enough
I went to “Trickie’s Tricks” with a list a mile long
I even skipped around, humming a naughty little song
So my wife came home from work and entered the scene
I sported a mankini and mask…she started to scream
I chased with a feather in one hand and whip in the other
She dashed from the room, crying loudly for her mother
She slipped on the rose petals…the candles fell to the floor
I reached for massage lotion as she darted out the door
She left me hot and bothered, much to my chagrin
Whatever I do, I feel I just can’t win!
So next time… I’ll ignore her rebuffs
Tomorrow night, I’ll whip out the cuffs
Everybody writes about love so this is NOT a love poem.
This is a dedication to a feeling that often eludes thee, but it moves me to.......NOT write
another love poem.
This is an ode to that tingling in your stomach and that light headed feeling......it has you
reeling and im realing you back in just to reinform you that this is NOT a love poem that
makes you hot and bothered.
That sends you home to put it on who or whom ever.
It will not make you feel all mushy inside and "aww" a couple of times because this is NOT
another love poem.
This, is an expression of affection towards he that sends me blessings.
This is not a love poem, this is me stating im in love with a higher being who gave me higher
meaning to what you.... and i...... call love!