Long Tushy Poems
Long Tushy Poems. Below are the most popular long Tushy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tushy poems by poem length and keyword.
Pain in the ass devoid of dreck
inapropos poetic material what the heck
more unbearable than crick in neck
shiver me timbers, I feel like total wreck
the (see) Edmund Fitzgerald, si?.
Spasmodic cramping imposed
automatic rhyming abbreviation
comeuppance (analogous to daggers
stabbing derriere courtesy constipation
far worse fate than death – abdication
among living with grateful dead
dogsend versus moody blue (brown)
mood whereby feeling tetchy abjection
able, ready, and willing abjuration
to forswear, muster, surrender...
in toto habeas corpus abduration
upon terrestrial realm physical ablation
futile effort this atheist to utter ablution,
hence rollout Harris tweed welcome matte
more than willing to forsake livingsocial,
cuz Whatsapp pining abnegation
to cash fish'n chips, kick
the bucket, toss in hat,...
haint nobody gonna
challenge mine abolition
chained, tethered, yoked,...
accursed abomination
straining sphincter muscle
on par birthing abortion
primal raving, moaning, grunting,...
I imagine similar more futile abreaction
women experiencing parturition,
yours truly expressed agonizing vocalization
working himself into quintessential rabid sweat
screaming, threatening, uttering,... tushy
regarding failure concerning
waste product expulsion
giving proctologist serious contemplation
pooh poohing derriere cheeky
bowel over abruption
personally legislating
getting behind abrogation
replacing said bum fanny
with more reliable never absolution
regarding made in uterus, U.S.A, tuckus,
(Froggy)
His big crooked smile; the bump on his nose;
His extra large feet with short stubby toes.
Eyes sort of popping beneath eyebrows bushy;
A spare tire middle with such a small tushy!
His loud guitar music; his funny guffaw;
His love poems so cheesy that fill her with awe;
His spending too much to save any money
Because he likes always pleasing his honey.
More froggy than prince, and odder than odd,
But that’s what she loves; he’s perfectly flawed.
(The Prince)
His brilliant white teeth; the cleft in his chin;
The beautiful body; the unblemished skin.
His elegant style; his baby blue eyes,
Manicured nails, costly suits and nice ties.
His house and his Benz; his deep golden tan:
All proof he’s a go-getting clever young man.
The many smart things to the right people said;
His time at the office so he’ll get ahead.
So seemingly flawless he just can’t see why
His girlfriend ran off with that flawed froggy guy!
For SKAT!
hum...habit...hic...abbott woozy
celebrating with British Royal Family
and...hub bout red dee
to take a snoozy
sup...par'n...this poet
fur...hib bit..bing a lil oozy.
Now this raggedy man
whilst deep in sleep
this past night what felt like galactic body
fell upon ma slumbering heap
affecting immediate fear
lest worst nightmare,
would crush with might
but lo…just then zee spouse
plunked herself
with unconsciousness deep
unable to recapture pleasant dreams
well nigh past day light.
So...rather than emit shrieks
like some angry birds
the idea arose to attempt poem
to express discombobulated state
whereby grey matter feels
similar to thick whey curds
palliative sans restorative power
per rest will clear muddled pate
thick with grogginess
and marauding herds
of mailer daemons worse
than unsuitable mate
or a world wide web filled with nerds
thus lethargy purged
via catharsis with forming words
that follow rhyming pattern
to convey mood = to a synonym for turds.
respite from a cat nap as tonic no lion here
can spell relief and serve as balm
with pillowed temptress ever near
beckons softly inviting calm
before this human
goes a berserk manic tear
being revisited from haunts
inside head of this scrivener
caught by men in white coats
strait jacketing this maniac
in tattered under wear
whose tushy by the way
oh about the size of an average palm
yet taut for witnessing
deux score plus eighteen mortal year.
Form:
One need not be David Copperfield,
nor a card shark/sharp, scrutinizing
random display codified
computer algorithm doth yield.
The chance to "win"
may appear tubby zero
analogous finding a diamond
in the rough, even
with help of
a heartfelt superhero
nonetheless toil away, asper
setting suitable spade work,
and cock sombrero
just so to avoid,
the virtual sun
shining in eyes, and affect
a fin guard hand sum
swagger that Cicero,
would be fain to boast
whereat sportsman/
woman ship touted
from one coast
to another for playing
fair and square
as with a ghost,
but essentially nobody,
but yourself dost host,
which one person team,
(thou self) essentially most
ideal match, when testing layout
random shuffle computer
program did post,
and no matter experiencing
cerebral neurons sizzling
like fifty shades plus
of gray matter roast
ting like chestnuts
on an open fire
envision accolades huzzahs,
and special toast
ye give yourself,
no matter stiff odds
stacked against thee,
and feel a bit whooshy
washy outsmarting the
game coder despite yar tushy
feeling comfortably numb,
with tingling sensation,
no matter squishy
tissue being pinched with
all out effort of most pushy
fan (again your sole self),
who succeeds as best
groupie getting mushy
timidly asking yourself
for an autograph,
and lastly taking a selfie
posing incognito with a
note tory us whig
outlandishly bushy.
If I told you, Donald, my love was true
Would you dance for me, glad to be my boo?
Or give a mean retort
Making a piggish snort
No Valentine's kisses from me to you
Melania is getting done with Trump
All he cares about is his nasty rump
The Epstein files don't lie
Knows he's guilty as pie
When his term ends, he'll be sent to the dump
If he tells me, I never wear a smile
It's because I think he's a pedophile
Ungodly as a papist
And a guilty rapist
Who knows what else is in the Epstein file
King Donald Trump thought Greenland he’d steal
Used threatening blunder in his spiel
This Valentines Day
Thought he’d have his way
Greenland said, “Up yours, Donald. No deal!”
Don Trumpty is totally impotent
He can't get it up for any event
It remains very slack
Can’t perform in the sack
On Viagra his bucks have all been spent!
Donald J. Trump held a Valentine's Ball
The world's dregs... he has invited them all
There was Kim Jong and Putin
Khamani and Rasputin
His ego boosted, he felt ten foot tall
No roses to give from the rose garden
He paved it with a black heart that's hardened
Installed gauche golden bling
and destroyed the East Wing
Criminals and crooks, he's given pardon
Melania said that they’d never part
And told him she loved him with all her heart
She held his waist tight
Squeezed with all her might
Poor Donald gasped and let out a fart
The President is standing in the buff
Posing nude and trying to strut his stuff
I guess he supposes
Wife wants sex not roses
But sadly, his old todger is too duff
Donald forgot it was Valentine's Day
Was too busy with targeting his prey
By grabby their tushy
His bare hands, so pushy
All the red roses sold out anyway
The FLOTUS put Donald in his place
In the bedroom he can’t touch first base
Cos he bedded Stormy D
Then Epstein files, oh dear me
The POTUS has got egg on his face
I'd be his Valentine if he'd hold still
Long enough for me to give him a pill
that would put him to sleep
And freeze the nasty creep
Putting him in a cryogenic chill
Cupid's arrows missed their mark, A collaboration of thoughts by
Jan Allison, Tania Kitchin, Tom Cunningham and Lin Lane
The missus pounded mine posterior...
causing percussive rumpus
Meanwhile good n plenty vibrations resonated
felt and heard round the world wide web
(strongest quaking sensations
occurred upon double mattresses atop bed
within apartment unit b44
2 Highland Manor Drive),
but woody d'ya believe
drumming, flagellating
and whipping gluteus maximus
spurred surging aftershock tremors
launched rocketed pecker
(property yours truly).
Imagine slap happy spouse
ain't misbehavin
just being her playful
(think cheeky) self
knick knack paddy whacking
undeservedly thrashing,
pummeling, beating
the living daylights
buttucks long past their prime
formerly cute palm pilot tushy,
now subjected courtesy
cruel aging process
wrought ugly human cellulite,
nevertheless I made
feeble attempts to rear up in protest
against asinine wifely antics,
while she obviously disregarded
feebly wailing for nought
me lamely uttering
friggin bloody murder in vain.
Zee spouse ain't no sadomasochist,
she just thrills
treating gluteus maximus (mine)
as a plaything
(think cat toying with mouse)
thwacking me fleshy behind
until derriere belonging to yours truly
feels comfortably numb.
Thee aforementioned shenanigans
predominantly arise, when
wedded counterpart owns advantage,
whereby I eagerly welcome shut eye
lo and behold only to experience
mine hinny quickly getting smacked
after I barely shuttered these tired eyelids
sneaking couple winks.
What recently began as
whimsical spur of
kickstarting moment
ushering tactile kibitizing
suddenly became nightly ritual,
whereby this humble husband
meekly surrenders bare bottom
(actually partner with skewed enjoyment
at my expense)
pulls off outer clothes
plus underpants (elasticity
long since stretched out)
wallopping me bum
until flesh heavily
spindled, lacerated, and bruised.
Homeless? Not me.
I have my wires and my twigs and a place to go.
Uncle Joe is allowing us in
For a time.
Until Little Guy throws one of his famous fits
If I had a few more bucks we could take the bus to Arizona.
It's warm there. Just a couple of dollars more please.
Homeless? Maybe temporarily but this bridge is warm.
My babies think it is an adventure.
I told them we are camping out.
Who are you?
Who sent you?
No you CANNOT take my CHILDREN!
I’ll get you back, kids, I always do, right?
Be good. Be safe. You’ll have a warm bed tonight.
I’ll be okay. I’ll put my mattress closer to Mads.
Mads and I will keep each other warm.
Mads, I have to pretend.
If I just had another dollar or two, I'd be out of here.
No money at all? That's okay. Your friendship is enough.
I hate you Mads!
I hate the government! Coming down and snatching my kids.
This is ridiculous! They thought we were camping out.
You want a picture? For the paper?
What is your thesis about?
What are you trying to prove?
Of course I’m educated.
Get out of here college girl.
I'll kick your ass.
Can I help it that shelters have all those silly rules
about biting and kicking?
If you had my life you would get it.
I had six brothers. They all used to beat me up.
I was a scrapper; it is my way.
You are only a paycheck mistake away from being me, ma’am.
A picture. Of my tushy maybe. My bare tushy.
Get along with you! There is nothing to see.
My somewhat outsize ears and longish neck
(I swear exist, which contrary to popular myth
never seen by living persons) support this egg shaped
(fried or scrambled some might argue) head.
A mostly flat and hairless chest attests to a regular
regimen of light (self-concocted) chest-pounding routine.
Exercise (as well as meditation) a vital part of my
daily program to deal with the ordinary stresses
of primitive existence. Coffee happens to be the
sotto voce sole vice, which exotic brews provide
helpful jump-start. I sometimes even chump on cup
kept teeth sharp. That unproductive habit came
to a screeching halt after breaking every pearly white.
Now to that locale known as the trumpeting rump
pull stilts skin. Although the unseen forces of biology
and genetics dealt me an itsy bitsy, tiny tushy
(which serves as the but for fellow Apes to taunt
and tease) such anatomical feature offers little
value as the worthiness of sexual prowess.
This palm pilot sized gluteus Maximus offers one benefit.
Ease to squeeze into tight spaces without getting stuck.
This tiny tushy accompanied by a vestigial and
teeny-weensy Weiner schnitzel of a phallus, which
undersized cock a doodle do doth bulge into
an erectile state within shooting distance of
coveted warm, wet and wooly private world
property of each and every woman.
A pair of skinny (flamingo like) legs (covered in
adequate hair) now completes this general character sketch.
There once was an individual known as theKidster.
the Kidster was an immature adult mister.
The oldest of four younger sisters.
Got my ass beat many times commin to the aid of my little sisters.
Got my share of injuries, scars and blisters,
cause it's hard being a little tiny guy tryin to protect four younger beautiful sisters.
Got my lights punched out many times, to the point where I was blind.
I may have suffered injuries, but I protected my baby sisters everytime.
As they entered their teenage years, my sisters wanted me to butt out of their affairs.
They were beginning to develop an interest in boys obviously,
and this drove their big tiny little brother very crazy.
My sisters wanted to explore their sexuality,
but I was a young man, I knew the teenage male's mentality.
Oh yeah, stupid selfish teenage male mentality.
I did get the best of one dude who grabbed my sisters Ass Freely,
Right In Front Of Me.
He had height and weight over me,
but I saw none of that. All I thought was,"You grabbed my sister's tushy,
right in front of me".
First I bit slapped the creep violently.
Then I grabbed him by his jewels unmercifully.
My clenched fist just kept squeezing immensely.
This big little Prick was at the mercy of me.
I then proceeded to punch his face repeatedly.
Lucky for him (and also me),
someone interceded and stopped me.
He always swore that he'd get back at me.
I met him once again. He just stood a motionless statue. Just like a big coward wussy.
While out and about
an unexpected over bare ring bout
to defecate arose,
where sphincter asserted clout
and would excrete
despite without doubt...
if closing distance
(to reach rental abode)
beaten out by loosening sphincter muscle
transmitting excretory code
set sights on prowl for outlawed, secluded,
and wooded make shift commode
and essentially for naught negating
toddler toilet training, sans
getting potty trained undone
via my tushy ready to explode
and blast immense solid waste byproduct
(oh...close to the size of Rhode Island)
thus a marathon race against time
found immediate readiness to pull off roadside
to access make shift water closet
generating image firmly in pooping mode
grabbing hold of a tree trunk
(a mini rocky horror picture show, -
this analogy included for no particular reason
other than as a non-sequitur)
and also to convey, how I tried
to allay distractions
while painful contractions flowed
(perhaps approximating woman
on verge of giving birth)
but...no matter, aye could envision,
an ever increasing heavy m*****f****** load
hence approaching Highland Manor Apartments
this chap abandoned
prior simultaneous evacuation plan
starkly aware probability for secluded spot sunk
(nonetheless, thy darting darting
anguish, futile lizard like lookout,
a geico Gekko whose cheeks did blush
even for a measly Georgian bush
quickened nsync with rectal spasms
visual scouting industrialized
where backhoes didst crush
once a time sacred happy hunting grounds
of native Americans, now royally flush
with newly built vinyl city re: urban sprawl a gush,
where cookie cutter houses long since bringing hush
puppies muzzled, yet never the less and mush
a doo doo about nothing) except sprint
ting to the verizon with a void push
immortalizing indigenous tribes ghosts rush
peopling infrastructure affixing
urbanization with lamb basted,
and sigh lance warrior whoosh!