Long Protrudes Poems
Long Protrudes Poems. Below are the most popular long Protrudes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Protrudes poems by poem length and keyword.
Everything is an issue with my friend
I hope she is a girl as she is known to claim
She thinks she is Marilyn Monroe so
Think on my pretty
In fact there is but one good eye
Like a lighthouse beam beckoning
About the middle of the head
Large with yellow, pus oozing on her tiny face
Sometimes it looks cloudy or milky white
Under moon light it stands out frightening
She orders me to give her money...a gun
It must be time to make love
Or take her dancing in the dark
That makes perfect sense for the digestion
A large tooth stands out yellow gray
Turning green and festering today
It protrudes from her lower jaw
Stands as a monument to former days
When there were plenty
From the vicinity of the mouth she shouts
Commands me be still while she takes aim
I am a target of her love
She screams at me to pay the rent
Slurs her words, most unheard
Pretending to be sultry
My girl is far from pretty
The distance is from here to Mars
Ugly defines her nicely
Skinny is her only attribute
Shoot me!…. Shoot me now my pretty!...
The passionate...pulsating rhythm,
Of your tasty...temple of doom.
Pounds a pummeling throb,
While hunting for buried treasure.
A lustrous...look like acid rain,
A hopeful...heart, a buried jewel.
My whip...willingly...whips,
A love escapade unwinds.
I raid your beautiful...body
Looking for the lost ark in the dark.
Erotic...exploration begins;
I explore a deeper crevice.
Solely...searching a secret tunnel,
Investigating, probing, and panting,
In the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
With my trusty archeological tool.
Hot wax poured...sizzling burns
The crimson scented wax streams
On this secret quest for love,
A stimulating last crusade.
Drops of salty...sweat
Bead from my fatigued...face
Dripping into the abyss of covers
And on the glistening skin.
Contrast: hitting the shiny...skin
The splash sound...is amplified.
A magnified grimace of pleasure
Protrudes the dark silhouette.
Steamy...lava skin yearns,
For a cool touch to extinguish
The heat of human friction while
Luscious...lips call out Dr. Jones.
____________________________
*Posted for an anonymous request
To write more free verse...
I admonish unto myself as I gaze thoughtfully at the grand flock of birds flying in circles;
It is as if they lost the current of wind that so directed them to the warm breeze
Of their winter home.
Their faulty lead so greatly mimics the threshold that I have broken on this cold November
day.
I cannot begin to explain my self-indulgence concerning quaint but ever so austere memories
Of the many realities I have beheld in my
lifetime.
While this racking of thought protrudes my mind in constant reverie,
I can’t relinquish the infallible gifts bestowed upon me graciously throughout my many trials.
Therein I find hope;
Hope that will assist me in this ferocious expedition to find the truth of my existence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the door clicks shut
leaving only dust particles
dancing in sunbeam's path.
four walls hold their breath
waiting for footsteps
that never come
a single nail protrudes
where a frame once hung
its shadow stretching longer
with each passing hour.
the silence settles
thick as plaster dust
in corners untouched
no echo answers
when the floorboards sigh
beneath the weight of absence.
light bleeds
across bare parquet
marking time in slow degrees.
air grows stale
withheld breath and unspoken words
condensing on the ceiling
Into the Hatch, drop by drop
The metal melted like the crop
Sizzling ooze falls onto a floor
And begins to feel a little sore
Still no eyes, no lungs, no aim
Digits pull and push its frame
Outward sounds, crashes, pounds
Begin to be heard, as fear surrounds
Ears, but not quite shaped like ours
Are the next to form in these early hours
Yet just as green and red get comfy
A grating shrill comes from newfound company
Their location is hard to properly state
This starless cavern below the Fate
Forgers don't dare stoop this low
Whatever is here won't approach slow
The sounds in the silence, let words free
"WrIgGlE aBoUt, WiThOuT We?"
Tumbling turns to playful pursuit
When from a stomach protrudes a foot
It winds its ankle, without a crack
And stamps down harsh, with an attack
The Smith is pinned, spreading his patch
While five more digits manage to snatch.
Hmm... on second thought
lemme join anorexic club
until rib cage protrudes taut and visible
doubling as drum to drub
synchronized within heart of darkness,
especially when electrocardiogram exhibits
absolute zero vital sign,
cardiac arrest translates
as cessation to lub dub,
hence yours truly
declared dead as doornail,
coroner report deems arrhythmia
directly linkedin to deliberate Machiavellian flub
courtesy the missus attempt to poison me
actually aborted cuz nanobots
loosed upon body gripped with rigor mortis,
a minor inconvenient truth
cuz odorless and tasteless deadly toxins
rendered me convalescing
from bout with death, an oxymoronic
former slenderman gourmand.
temporarily deceased
until said microscopic robots
avidly analogous to frenzied
figuratively hogtied pigs
buzzfeeding at a trough
creating porcine hubbub
invisible nanoids (0.1-10 micrometres)
accomplished programmed task
whereby fatal microbes they did scrub
away leaving me fit as a fiddle.
No matter she thoroughly, painstakingly
and lovingly didst strew
haphazardly she threw
leftovers together,
this blustery march like
November twenty six figuratively view
wing the remaining thirty plus days
of two thousand twenty one
thoroughly cooked in microwave until...
poor excuse for my meal appeared
with consistency of shoe leather.
Think the missus not afraid
of Virginia Woolf keen to experiment
treating me like the Gingerbread Hag would:
questionable resultant glop pantomimed
for my guessing pleasure
never figure out in bajillion years
as amateurish Marcel Marceau charade
performance courtesy the spouse,
an entrée she gave - yours truly
immediately sought to evade
me subsequently evincing
horrific puckered mealy mouth
as though I swallowed hand grenade
figurative exploding oral cavity
feeble futile gesticulation inveighed.
The mirror reflects, obliquely,
a peculiar yellow butterfly -- it flutters, flutters
the specks of black my beard is made of
on the breeze. A daffodil hangs down its treasure
and I spread shaving cream, in great white puffs,
shielding from the windy noise its yellow
across my face. The nose protrudes, ridiculous
excrescence. A leaf half green sweeps up in circles
in the whiteness all around. A weak chin, think I,
of windy sighs. Squirrels crack acorns, crunching,
down into a patchy neck. Very unsatisfactory
remembering winter's almost famine. The trees --
appearance. Altogether so. Oh well.
Quiet. Steady. Sturdy. Oh well.
The mirror reflects, but not uniquely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the door clicks shut
leaving only dust particles
dancing in sunbeam's path.
four walls hold their breath
waiting for footsteps
that never come.
a single nail protrudes
where a frame once hung
its shadow stretching longer with each passing hour.
the silence settles
thick as plaster dust
in corners untouched.
no echo answers
when the floorboards sigh
beneath the weight of absence.
light bleeds
across bare floors
marking time in slow degrees.
air grows stale~
withheld breath and unspoken words
condensing on the ceiling.
3am
The rest of the world was asleep
While your mind on the other hand, never is
You occupied it
with inhale of your beloved Mary Jane
I study every smoke cloud that leaves your body
As that same dumb couple argues on TV
when will they learn I ask myself
Suddenly I felt the weight
Of the bed shift
A cold bony hand
Grabs my shoulder
Felt my flannel slowly sliding off my back
And without hesitation
I fall into the comfort of your touch
Your breathing becomes scattered
As I trace every single rib
that protrudes your dull skin
Dirty nails
make its way up my chest
And around my neck
Which is accompanied
By your chapped lips
Maybe we're both wrong I thought
As the adrenaline and sweat leave my body
I placed my body next to yours
Under the blue covers
You casually turn your back
So all I see is your silhouette
I did the same
As the couple on TV made up again
I stare into the dark room
Conscious of every sound
Every movement you make
Which forces me to catch my breath
For I hope
You finally decide to hold me
6:50am
It came around
Just as I started to close my eyes
Felt the bed shift again
And the urge to sleep
Suddenly disappears
Your mother left for work
While your presence left me
I roll over to see you up
Already saying good morning
To Mary Jane
I pick up my clothes
that slept on the floor
And I head downstairs to leave
I went to grab the door
To the garage
I turn the knob slightly
And look back up the stairs
You weren't there
you never are
But you'll make the time
To call at 2am
On a weekday
And impulsively
I'm leaving my twin bed
and climbing under your blue covers
Being a chameleon is easy for I am born under Gemini sign
Mercurial and free flowing, I am held to my own desires
I wake up as Pollock one morning, Poe the next.
Coleridge and Van Gogh may not show up until Thursday
if at all. It might not be their week.
Yesterday I was a peacock before chameleon me appeared.
Male of course, as they have the prettiest colors of aqua and cobalt.
The day before, I was an oak. A giant Cheshire cat was sitting on me.
I am not averse to being a closet monster either.
It is one of my happiest memories.
Honesty protrudes out of my art and writings when I am human.
When I am the wind, or the daffodil, I merely am.
I never know what I will be.
Sometimes I change in the middle of a thought.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
I am now a wolf, a lone wolf, so stand back and keep your distance.