Long Dick Poems
Long Dick Poems. Below are the most popular long Dick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dick poems by poem length and keyword.
I had the strangest of dreams
They happend in the land overseas
Usually called the land of the free
Even though I have never been
There were familiar people and daddy issues
My father tried to pick some prostitutes
Then puked on my bed
In real life he is a strong christian
Familiar sins , disorders, secrets and bad feelings
My childhood crush was trans sexual
I did her like I Wanted to impress her
Rubbed her dick then did the deed I was Into that
I felt some shame but I am glad it happened
I see no sin in that except the things we do for love
In real life my girlfriend is sleeping cute like a bear
It is so sad there really is no God here
A whole dispenser water bottle was full of Bourbon liquor
Ash on the table it looked like we had a party it was clear
In real life am not even American
Yet My dreams happen in America
Is this just media or am I going to need a doctor
Is it just Netflix plus Pornhub and a dirty crush on Contra
It is just media and maybe I should keep the trauma
Gives me nice poems from a America
In real life it's 2am in Kenya
The touch of her hand
Moving slowly up my thigh
Lifting my boxer
Starts a delicious craving
Her eyes look over every inch of my body
My heart is racing
I can hear it beating in my ears
I crave much more
But don't want to ask
She takes her time teasing me
Tempting with each touch
Her fingers now massaging my dick
My breath is like a yawn
As she covers my mouth with hers
Moving her body upon mine
Pulsating blood rushes through my body
Bubbling with desire
Moans escape our passion
Beads of sweat run slowly between my chest
Her heap of breast heaving
Then sweet sensual climax
Takes us to a paradise
Leaving our bodies
In spectacular satisfaction
Squirming
Desiring another round
Bamgboye Stephen T.
Form:
Miniscule male member doth bend sinister
impossible mission of mine to bare witness
whereby mine (whore rubble) puny phallic
describes a bent shaft, particularly when cap
locks on first observed by the missus when
we consummated intercourse, though nicht
married, cuz the rutting urge overtook both
of us 24/7, 365 days year not omitting the
leap day, which arose because planet Earth
doth circle around the sun within 365 days,
5 hours 48 minutes and forty six seconds
to orbit the nearest star, according to NASA,
and while that calculation (rounded down
established by Nicolaus Copernicus in the
16th century, when he proposed heliocentric
model - quite controversial to the church ladies -
upending geocentric theory placing the Sun
at the center of the solar system, with Earth
orbiting around it; his theory was detailed
in his book "De Revolutionibus Orbium
Coelestium" published in 1543) to three
hundred and sixty five days, we - twenty
first century *****sapiens, recognize as
a typical year, those nearly 6 extra hours
do not conveniently disappear bitta bing
bitta bitta bang: I recognize omission of
most chitty word choice, but latched on
to a song which shares the same name
as the movie, a 1968 children's musical
adventure film directed by Ken Hughes
and produced by Albert R. Broccoli (not
necessarily the guy kids wanna blame for
their favorite vegetable) starring Dick Van
Dyke, Sally Ann Howes, Lionel Jeffries,
Gert Fröbe, Anna Quayle, Benny Hill,
James Robertson Justice, Robert Helpmann,
Heather Ripley and Adrian Hall driving the
innovative idea (credited to Julius Caesar,
who introduced it as part of Julian calendar,
adding another extra day every four years
to more accurately align the calendar after
segueing into the Gregorian calendar, a solar
calendar used in most parts of the world today
based on the Earth's revolution around the sun
and named after Pope Gregory XIII introduced
in 1582) with the solar year; essentially
making him the "inventor" of the leap year
added to account for the difference.
With one mighty swing of your forty-two ounce bat,
out of the ballpark was where the baseball was at.
A great player blessed with athletic prowess,
you made the ball travel like a nonstop express.
You were Wampum, Pennsylvania's native son.
As far as sports was concerned, you could not be outdone.
One of the Major League's feared sluggers you would be.
Many opposing pitchers became filled with anxiety.
An outstanding career was something you could claim.
I still wonder why you are not in the Hall of Fame.
Yes, you were better than many who played the game.
May you rest in peace as they will remember you name.
Dick Allen
(1942-2020)
Thanks God it's Friday!
Good time was spent in natural zoo
I calmly watched some of cool wild animals,
Birds, cats, monkeys ,and few more..
It was fantastic show
Full-moon gray baboon retells his old,
Doing its best to catch up Funny Silia Little Crow
Sometimes smart sometimes fool
uses her best to fellow and follow
Double-dealer white snake was not cool at all
Vapid Dick Nose seems sick as used to be bow
Inspector colorful bird sings once in awhile
One cat plays in cute childish ways with a cow
The sweet eyes Wolf was busy observing the cat
Dove was not in her pretty nest though
Marvelous Indian Ruby Canary sings
with her true lovely tone and colors I saw,
and some other beautiful neat birds
who are smoothly leaving their sows to grow
Form:
A cupola shin, prickly dick creed, hoary
testes tossed, master baiting ova all eel trades
crossed the fecund Rubicon and ejaculated
olly olly oxen yawping, in utero seminal raids
with phallic coup d’etat that buck came vasocongested spades
lit torch, where hello kitty Ernst lee screeched
amidst Grafenberg tit parades
bumping uglies during four nuke key eight ting game
where pinkish puckered two lips viz biological
Russian roulette played – birth control relegated as desuetude
hotly contested fee conned, caved heat seminal blitzkrieg overlaid
bilging swamped,
whence olds eye goat ruff fused exiting nightshade
shy ham mull in, and gave way to blast ta cyst
vis a visa viz biological fertilization qua two plump milkmaids
from inchoate seeds juiced beginning
to compress bladder re: lemonades
per diem mother via umbilical cord fueling gestation,
where sonogram shows faint genetic threnody skein
perchance manifold jades
nope – no fallacy when peppy thrust with sucks esse full feint
after thwarting objection against skin flute charmed thence invades
which begot conception from chromosomal traits stitched
via jean S, and her faction of trumpeting handmaids
whose fecund ditty began to feel swell as biological reproduction
showed no uterine back grades
as Tabula rasa In utero endured fusillades per what mother tubby ingested
sustenance promulgated noticeable womb dar full expansion fusillades
of nutriments ordaining future health of progeny
riddling endless questions within the gallimaufry
discombobulated mental, physical fatigue enfilades
and spiritual state of momma me ya in tha family way, whereby baby blueprint an outcome as nano sized atomic bombshells scoured decades
to determine the ontological makeup from when the fluid dynamics
spelling impregnation since time immemorial and into the future cascades
artfully concatenating eminent grise immaculate kindred laminated with waxy substance i.e. vernix, though smooth
doth serve analogous to microscopic switch-blades.
Form:
I’ve been feeling like a stranger in my skin.
The last thing I remember is an argument with that jerk, inner critic.
We both went to bed with many words left unsaid.
The next day to my regret, it woke up earlier than me.
I guess peace couldn’t stand its company.
Started off with an earful of negativity.
Of course, it was about who I could never be.
Because I have only one worth, for you to destroy me.
And why this rant so early?
Oh, yeah all because I wanted to sleep in past 417.
You called me lazy.
Said the greats never sleep.
Critic, you couldn’t pick a more convenient time to be a dick to me?
Yeah, this sounds about right.
All You ever do is wake me up, or keep me up at night.
Just to tear down the parts of me, that are starting to feel alright.
Nothing positive, nope not from you or I.
Only ruminating thoughts of yours, that I do not claim as mine.
Always only about how much I suck.
Yet you never can give me a real reason why.
Also, please come up with better lines.
I’m tired of taking your words for mine.
We are literally in the same body, you and I.
You do realize if I quit, we both die?
Is that what you want ?
Just tell me why.
I am the only brain, and you are only in my mind.
So why can't your message project positivity instead of that, sermon critic preaches in your head?
They both support a stream of energy, only one is better equipped for success.
While the other keeps you reliant on trauma, your critic won't let you forget.
So how can we evict that squatter from our mind, from our head?
We can't, it’s forever.
But tools to live amicably together well, those shouldn’t be hard to find.
First things first, I’m Sierra and this skin sacks mine.
Reclaiming and taking control over my life! Deleting one little lie at a time.
A Boy,
his Mother named Fred
Is better known to his Friend's
By the caustic nickname
Snipers Dream
Because of the size of his head
Slimline was 2XL all around was constantly eating
Whereas
Fatt's was shaped like a cigarette
and hardly ate at all
Tall Paul was 4 Foot something
Shorty was 6 Foot 6
Poor Boy wanted for nothing
While
Richie Rich had holes in his undies
Chatterbox hardly spoke
Comedy Dave never got a joke's punchline
Pasty had his own sunbed at home
Ladies Man can't talk to girl's
Brain's was born without any
Dumbass gets A*+ in every subject
Big Dick wears shorts in the showers
Roses has bad B.O is scared of soap
Smiley has yellow teeth
Aussy comes from South Africa
Jewish is Muslim
Homeboy is foreign
Each of us love our nickname
We all get along
Not 1 of us take offense
Because true Friendships are built
on a mutual similar sence of humour
Laughing is the best medicine
See Spot Run..
This icon of our education
yes..of youth..but continuing..
The question might be asked:
Was our education ever other
than variations of Spot running..?
Sophistication arrived but
the strong belief of separation:
Spot..and Dick..and Jane
remains.. seemingly implanted
unquestioned and permanently
in what we call our world..
Through the years
some have found discomfort
a hole at the center of
Spot's adventures..
A vague unsettling
blossoming on some days
to sharp fragmentary pain..
In our many searchings
for restoration and fulfillment
might we in some momentary
clarity..see Spot not running
but dissolving into
the light of day...
Millie, the mermaid was a reading machine.
It started with a shipwreck, among the marine.
A library for a king had gone down in the wreck.
I can teach myself to read, she said without genuflect.
She started with picture books, one word on a page
Those old Dick, Jane and Sally texts which tells my age.
Moved on to primers and dictionaries with pix.
Now she is reading novels, instead of watching flicks.
She has read almost every book in this library now.
Currently reading a textbook on how to raise a goat or cow.
If I had legs, I would get on land and grab more books she groused.
I’d read poet from Poe, Coleridge, Emerson, Browning and Foust.