Short Mammary Poems

A lad asked his dad for the score
And was told, "All ladies want more!
First you hold hands
Then mammary glands
As they grow rich and you grow poor!"...

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pregnant with flavor
blueberries pulling at the mammary branch
ready to release

they drop
onto your tongue
crushed by blue-stained teeth

they roll
down deliciously 
deserting
the tree

apropos applauding
seasonally

6/29/2020...

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Humanity has banned swearing
i don't know what the coitus to do
Stubbed my toe
Blancmange does not seem to do the trick
The mammary gland in my work
such a coituser too
This plaster born out of wedlock
Doesn't give a phytoplanton
Manures hit the fan
Cannot understand
Nobody tries
Even beneath the gentleness of words
the truth sometimes lies...

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Maligned, the
space between us
lets go the mammary

a flame scoops up the void,
we speak no names,
I carry you in my skinned arms
to the weeds
for seminal mutability ;

shipwrecked, i fear of depth
turbulence, I will honor the drop
on the cheeks of sea, green shores

in the night I will walk out of the snare
the gulls will come in a flock



SATISH VERMA...

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but as last she of the (my surname)s
me, (my name), just me.

I write,

  to the girl after me
be confident
be I want this and sure
neglect your heart once

   to the girl after me
Obey
her you ruined her mammary firmness 
desert don't tell your parents

  to the girl after me
hug me on arrival 
for if you grasp poetry
how grateful you would be...

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embers of memory- solitude
a rugby inside me trembling
jerking off seeds, heat yolk
furtive cells melt in furnace

a secret pleasure perfumes
a little room an eve garden
my son learned how to erect
shadows still lurk -odorous

I felt soft sea froths salty
mammary pain oozing silk
oysters and lemons, orange
saffron, blue vain of throb

there I lay my child sinks
night chilly never had winks...

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Blessed be the name of Lord Ha-Ha.
I worship at the altar of Ha-Ha.
In his blood I am washed.
In his raiment I am clothed.
In his breastplate I will conquer
And in his name I will trust.

The honor of his blessing I will seek.
The grace of his presence I will covet.
He leads me to channel 60
He splitteth my sides. 
My cups runneth over with mammary juice.
The fruit of his womb is as ambrosia
And I will dwell in the house of Ha-Ha forever....

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This conjugal thing
Blissful before his arrival
Brief I thought, then loaned
In hope to wean our baby

The father’s allowed property
To take the right in dowry 
Who truly owns her mammary?
The child or the payer of the dowry?

Suck not to dryness these oranges
My favourite little ornaments
To me her parents granted
The rights to suck and caress

Weak the soul of the mighty
Like a candle to the fire
Weak the heart of a warrior
When child borrowed his woman...

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While waiting for my mammogram,
A most annoying test,
I had a thought no poetry
Has up to now addressed.

About the ones whose job is
Squeezing every woman’s breast 
And manipulating angles
‘Til it’s properly finessed.

With each mammary maneuver,
Getting patients more distressed,
She keeps kneading and adjusting,
Like a potter who’s possessed.

What a way to make a living!
Though it’s time that I confessed
That I feel much better getting
These reproaches off my chest.
...

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