Short Squirting Poems

Down by the rock pools
My hand gloved in your wrinkles
New discoveries
Starfish, crabs and mermaids purse,
Squirting sea anenomes....

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Savvy wasp hornet killer spray

Feeling good it’s what I bring her. 

Squirting a stream so far away

Grandma watch out for the stinger!...

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oranges are staining my nails
squirting and spreading juice
aromatic, wet, tasty,
sometimes tart, sometimes sweet
some can juice them
I try
but fail
buying my juice at a store...

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in one 
passageway
squirting out
another
not a worm
on a hook
but a fish
perplexed
perhaps
by miniature
coral pieces
I told you so
a dozen times
ooh, such
devilishly striped
gills...

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apples grapes peaches on tray
silky rinds explode 
flesh blended with milky cream
nectar squirting juice,
add cherry toppings
toothy- fruit
binge!


Make Me Drool With Epulaeryu ...

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 pears pumpkins peaches inflamed
clothed in silky skin mauve
skin dipped in moist marinade
tables squirting wine
sliced, baked, osterized
mouths water
wow! 


( for the food contest)...

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we thrash about
in a pool of our bones
squirting ink into the eyes 
of a million long dead ghosts

   beneath the blackness of our ink
we snip off the arms of our sanity
one by one by one.... we slowly sink
into echoes of our snapping beak...

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Molly had a chat with Bert,
Stating that she had an aversion to bottles that squirt,
She preferred her sauces in glass bottles,
The plastic monstrosities she'd like to throttle,
As she said this, she gave a squirt,
Squirting tomato sauce all over Bert's shirt...

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Beneath the man is a lucid vagina,
Censored  in thick debris of fur.
Death in the midst of its debris is a glory
Non should behold.

A boy in all certainty,  girl deep beneath.
Alas, I swirm, nothing in life is real,
But  the squirting sound of an orgasming  she male....

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Sailing ship to port
Tis evening or is it day
With time my brain has wilted fray
I steer the ore
I yell my salt
If I crash, tis not my fault
I repeat the fault I have in mind

Steering the ship to port
Under attack as well
Blue roosters under a spell
Squirting lemon juice
Tis simply not my day

Or so I tell my psychiatrist often....

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I am standing in peat.
The war drags on.

The dirt is raw,
squirting on to fingernails
turning them blue.
Who was running away
from hinges ?

The genital warts were
spreading. The cold facts will
wear casuistry. The train
derails. Only the earth
is hurt.

Dreams cannot close the
wounds. You want to go
where the jungle is. Teeth
are broken. Eyes
become the house for ants.


Satish Verma...

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Oh to wear the crown
Asking God to fight
Death and fate strangled
at my arms end
Ripping angels with my teeth
Race to unseat beast
Fold reality until it disappeared
Squirting words
upon    the                              page
in my raUNSETTLEDge
Depressed into my form
Squint in increments
scream reams of ams to scare
splatter matter like it mattered
unstop and able
causing rain with dribble
clench my fist and grin
as the empty i step in...

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callously the world had split
two hemispheres disconnected
scalps and war chests decorated
glamorous uniforms 
heaving with medals
speechless arithmetic 
spacious troops on the map

her mind severed in pain
corporeal numbness leaking
from a crashed skull bone
squirting brain matter
and lost hope

displaced she roamed the ruins
her only salvation that
shrapnel had formed
a lacuna of blood
where semblance of
left right and wrong
now withered in vain...

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Sometimes I wonder if I use poetry as a crutch
To my emotions broken limbs
As if poetry is an outpatient outlet for my informative formalities
Passive aggressive tendencies
Rhyme disease
My apologies, I seem to forget the apostrophes
Like symbolic catastrophe
Heartache rhinoplasty
Augmentation of my weaknesses
I contain in my vial the audacity
Squirting literary illness on healthy bodies and souls
Because we're all dying,
And just trying to stay beautiful

-Jess...

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