Long Lick Poems
Long Lick Poems. Below are the most popular long Lick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lick poems by poem length and keyword.
Used to jab the raggedly tagged faggots b/c sad crabby lads have had their tags grabbed badly yet wagged their drab as stag shabbily as it was dabbed from what came from the tab that came from the lab too reserved to gab at the slab of the drab of the somewhat cab like scrap that gave somewhat of crap before it shat itself after meeting the scapula that became like Dracula before it whacked half a spatula sized radically habitual, mystical ridiculously perpetual medically perpetual cyclically repeating ritual that happens to coincide with the Tik Tok enabled cellular tested, wrestled, meticulously meshed, caressed, messy radical, half-hazardously sexual, wrecked ineffectual, critical, still not quite literal, but mimical, of a cylindrical, syntactically, sporadically, lackadaisically, unanimously, fastened to the meticulously dastardly, massed, blasted, gassed, wrestled, brass, brash, bastardly, bass-like, mass mighty, hat-having, hiss-heaving, bereaving, belief-bound of a be more than beneath the beat up and bleak beak bitten breezy bean and cheese pile of raked leaves style bowl of chips and dips script that the lady with the bloods and crips lip gives as people sit with a ship to New York style trip seem to forget as they lose their because of the tip that hits one when instead of their mitt that would grip somewhat of a catch in a fit that would lick the one who sits with the kit of the fictionally fit mystery that blissfully bit into a tic while it in turn was lit with the mix of the hysterically, rarely, heretically, medically dissed fizz of some **** that would knit a new tit because of an antipsychotic, moronic blip on the screen of some that geographically, sporadically, masterfully admittedly mentioned, could cause retention of some invention, that one would mention if only and if one was sick, with a little grit left abreast a messy Mexican directionally challenged malice but talented callous chalice wielding balanced rally style for a carousel encampment trampled on and possibly tampered with tampon treated, bleached, beaten...
What's the purpose of these tears...
They are the testimony of my heart's truth...
Testimony is not purpose,
it's a telling of trauma teaching,
what has taught your heart
these priceless tears...
The teacher of my heart is love relentless...
Who is this love teacher...
My soul~flame, Inamorato of pulse tornado,
the love leader of my poetry...
How has he led your life
into the battlefields of love heroic...
He lifted me from longing
into a kiss of belonging...
How was he able to achieve
this romantic rescue...
He judged not my jealousies,
held me when the night spoke of sin,
when my demons dared to drag me
my phoenix Inamorato immolated them
with a voice of victorious thiunder,
and his technique of touch
a passion revolutionary...
What makes your hero lover a phoenix...
He has survived the conflict
of Time and competition,
he has defied distance
and collapsing dreams,
his heart has continued to listen
to my lips
as they have spelled his soul
with endless ink...
Is this phoenix in your possession...
We possess one another dire,
He will fail without Me,
and I will die without him...
Toy mentioned a love song
that only you and he sing, please share...
Melt my tears into your sweet fire...
Drip your tears onto the lick of my fire...
Take my tears into your raw fire...
Spill your tears into the warm hands
of my fire...
Convert my tears into catharsis...
Smolder me with love tear spirit...
Take my tears into Time's curse...
Rain your love diamond water
into my open mouth...
Save Us from Death's envy
of love immortality...
J.A.B.
T.H.E.M. (The hellions employing mayhem)
Vs
U.S. (Useful slaves)
It’s always the same
The old tired game
Of them vs us
Each side making a fuss
Playing tug of war
Over the same
Sad dollar
“I need more”
“You’ll take less”
Each side holler
Nothing ever changes
It only gets worse
Our disgusting methods
Are simply a curse
Our inhumanity towards each other needs to disperse
But I know it’s a dream
Selfishness is the reign of the insane
Always looking to lay blame
It’s the hot potato game
It’s not us
It’s them
So, they say
Nobody wants to pay
Greed rules the day
It’s simply our twisted way
To lay the blame away
From our own feet
You see, misery is such a treat
To watch others, bow to the elite
A meeting nobody wants to greet
Please come in and have a seat
You wish to rent yourself?
How neat
I offer less than you need
I’m here to plant slaveries seed
You’ll reap what I sow
And never make
What you owe
But then again
That’s the trick
To keep you low
Ya prick
Here’s my boot
Take a lick
Watching you struggle
Is such a kick
This is really fun
Watching you run
Like a rat in a maze
Blinded by debts haze
And I am very aware
I create the misery you share
I simply don’t care
But to be fair
You never really had a pair
LOL
Eric (and sometimes not)
Clumsily tripping, over our own feet
Sometimes, minds aren't meant to meet
perhaps we're off just a micro beat
thoughts obscured, behind glass covered in sleet
Sure there are those, who wish to exploit
but really in the end, what's the point?
We're all merely visitors, in this joint
Trying our best, with words to annoint
Cloisterd in shadows, wanting to be found
glimmers of earlier selves, clowning around
When others laugh, why do our fears compound?
Downturned mouths, strangled crying sounds
Embarrassing moments, last an eternity
Sometimes I'm my very worst enemy
Thinking hidden messages, are meant for me
Is that what poetry is meant to be?
I let essential words, roll off my lips
Credentials have no taste, when I take deep sips
Preferring a message, from a page that drips
My mind unfocused, takes many trips
I like the power, of words intrinsic
Flavors and texture, is what I like to lick
If it's too saccharin and sweet it makes me sick
My pleasure comes, from words hot and thick
So you see, I too like to word explore
Words found, behind a cryptic door
I start upright, end up on the floor
Keep on reading, until I can't absorb anymore!
Written at the request of James Horn.
Response to his "to Come Back Again" Poem.
Thanks James, our interaction led to a poem of the day!
Form:
DUNKING ONE'S BISCUIT . . .
Dunking one’s biscuit is more than a flippin’ skilled art
When getting it to one’s mouth without it falling apart
Timing is all-important here it needs to be not too soft
As you lift it from the teacup over to your mouth cross
Get it right and the winning mouth - gets to takes it all
Get it wrong and the losing biscuit - takes a flippin’ fall
Don’t even think of knocking your granny over this one
The lady is an aged old expert - she’ll never be outdone
Grandpa is far more laid back as he only does it for fun
As all the missed soggy biscuits down his hairy chin run
Uncle Sac is getting the hang of it over his learned years
Aunt Lea doesn’t partake as she always ends up in tears
Rex the dog is always quite happy if you make a mistake
He sees all this coming - happy to stand by you and wait
No need for tissues as he is quite happy to lick your face
No hope of keeping one’s dignity as you are losing grace
Oft an afternoon was spent with this skilled art we tried
With the miss tries making us all laugh so till we all cried
Ah yes - dunking one’s biscuit is more than a flippin’ art
It takes a scientific skill or like my dear old granny smart
Who spent many a younger year learning this clever art
So if you are well past caring please don’t give up heart
It is all about the fun of trying and the laughter it brings
And it really makes your day if it’s your biscuit that wins
Indiana Shaw . . .
My dog named “Hicks”
'The dog that licks the frog he found in the log'
that delightful, disgusting dog that lick the fluffy, hairy frog he found in the marshy, low log
My dog “Hicks
the dear, domestic dog that lick the fancy frog he found in the lovable log
depressed, dazzling the legendary, lumpy dog
the determined, dumpy dog that wants to eat the fantastic, famous frog he found in the loud, lost log
the funny, fat frog he found in the large, long log
the dank, different dog that lick the fake, fine frog he found in the loving, loyal log
the depressing, dark dog that licks the furry, frightening frog he found in the lit, little log “bark” “ribbit-ribbit rip” Swhoop YUM….
11/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
The path splits as unfortune would tell
The crooked, splintered sign gives warn
One says that it's the Highway to Hell
The other points to The Children of the Corn
Sudden dizziness overwhelms your entire Being
Vertigo has seem to have spun you around
The fog and mist hinder what you are seeing
Your legs cramp up as you fall to the ground
The mind numbs into a state of confusion
Unable to decide which path to take
Maybe it is all just an optical illusion
That this creepy feeling is just a fake
Standing you wobble and veer to the right
Taken as a sign your path is chosen
The Darkness has painted the blackest of night
Blind with frightened feet now frozen
A sudden wind so warm yet gives you a chill
Erupts from somewhere an unknown direction
Shhh be quiet hold completely still
As the wind whispers "You have no protection"
Panic drips sweat down a furrowed brow
And pools around your sinking feet
Your mind screams to do something now
Your Soul only feels the agony of defeat
Now waist deep paralyzed in fear
All motor skills seem to have died
Passing your chest just under your ear
Dancing in the Devils undertow tide
Panic short changes your very last breath
As the pool of tears pulls you deep within
Strong hands pull down into certain death
Lungs fill with the hot blood of sin
Thoughts no longer seem to make sense
As you plummet down to the earths core
The pull of this gravity is just too intense
As you slam face first into a burning red door
The door bursts open into this fiery cave
The noise now chatters of the insane
Pain explodes while flames lick your grave
Sanity burns out all the remnants of sane
The Red Beast appears laughing in Hell's sky
Flashing his fake veneer evil smile
Please this isn't real rubbing your eye
Laughing in your ear this Devil in denial
Hot it's so hot as organs start to boil
The putrid smell of fire burnt skin
Change you feel as a new tail uncoils
New chapter, new life as a Demon begins
Written for poetry contest "Scary Stories" 10/08/24
Hosted by: Crystol Woods
Why, my mind boggles each time I have to pen a rhyme
About love, about the way it did make my heart chime
About the way I did end up broken
Wailing at whoever would want to hear, that I am but fallen
Yes, fallen for the sake of love's eyes
Eyes which gave me only cries
Eyes which bid me to lose my faith
Eyes which caused me to wish to be taken back to the skies
See you, still young in mind and body
I craved for a young nobody
Rich and well pampered
His gaze only I desired
I attempted every little trick that I knew
From a love letter to a sex cue
I even agreed to lick his toes
For such cured me of my unwanted sorrows
But cruel and indifferent, he saw only what he wanted
With rich and well pampered maidens he flaunted
As for me, I fell into desolation
So much that I began to live with derision
Why, till now, we speak not to each other
Though I know not if for him I do hold a place in my heart
Yet, I do know he does not bother
So, I keep seeking for ways to give myself a new start
Why, my story as a romantic fool is such
Yes, it is indeed nothing but mulch
Yet, love is for me, a grand celebration
See you, now, I am in love with all of creation!
feeling good and feeling free
you are changing your clothes in front of me
you love it when i am happily speculating
i love it when you are intentionally hesitating
i treasure the taste of you
no color is a waste on you
the smell of your body is perfect
would you rather me gently lick it or aggressively slurp it
feeling good and feeling free
you remain fully naked in front of me
our conversation smiles with satisfying softness
we are celebrating twelve years of continuously moving forward off mess
the smoothness of your skin eases my mind
a laid back woman like you is so hard to find
with you there is no world and all i think about is unwinding
what comes after is the most euphoric feeling via your unique style of grinding
Encultured vision sees things as they are
and were,
as they are not and were not.
Positive revision sees things as we could become,
together.
Culture is an extremely large word,
with ubiquitous cooperate v compete economic implications,
assumptions,
expectations,
means toward autonomous v interdependent discovery,
uncovery,
recovery,
spoken all the way from atomic
through universal systems,
root systems,
language and numeric systems,
as is climate,
as is beauty,
as is trust,
as is health huge
where wealth is not yet pathologically rabid,
feeding off the poor in nature-spirit dipolar equivalence.
Multicultures speak in diverse voices,
internal and external,
Left and Right,
dark and light,
and which we are able to see as us
an which are "them"
depends on not just who or what is speaking
but who and when we listen to
and look at out and in,
sniff and lick and feel trusting drawn toward
and those who do not feel right to us,
not because they are not as good,
or even better,
but because we find resonant diversity across our cultures,
within shared subclimates of mutual solidarity
in healthy difference
and not so much overly competitive pathology.
Positive revision sees things
like cultures
and climates
of beauty
and trust as we could become,
together.