Make me man as soon as my youngster
knowingly receives their very last coddle.
The unconditional love curdles from
your loving mother’s teat.
Make it matter despite what you moo to cattle.
Prod the brittle; the previously dilly-dallied say,
“Tagalongs, hogtied stowaway freeloaders with
the trade inside loading and shipping containers.”
Longtime division produced its remainders.
A cove far off the oceans cost.
A cove in a periwinkle sea,
frothing with a bacterial foam
whipping up these sweet
whipped creamed treats
and other delights.
A fondant atop it all
till the klutz ruination
curses cause clusters of
curse wordings together,
finding their bindings.
Shame soaks the rag that wiped away
a distressed and disastrous look upon face.
Words impact with a continuous compound fracture
under the masterful tongue's dismantling of the
peace talks upheld on the other hand.
Oh mother, you are not divine anymore,
When part of you lies silent beside—
Undone by the hands that fed,
The little lips eager to call you mom.
What happens when the night crawls
Beneath the shady town of death?
Was there a sob, or desperate hiss,
When your dirty hands barred her breath?
Was he stirred, or gave a gentle kiss,
When death devised its plan through you?
The hand he held with mountain trust
Held his mouth and nose to rest.
Alas! You killed two little ones,
And why not spare the baby in the cradle?
Maybe you did it with your eyes shut—
And your ears and mind as well.
I’m sure, if a tiny light peeked through
The barred doors of your void heart,
You’d cuddle the little heart with love
And feed her from your divine teat.
But what you got by plucking the little flowers
Waiting to bloom for the world in full?
I’m tired of thinking of you as a mother—
Mothers are divine, but not you at all.
Fresh off the teat, throttle on bottle
Fresh on the feet, waddled a toddle
Tot spit out a noodle
Then spit out a doodle
"MOM!...You gotta swaddle my waddle!"
Sat on a park bench
She exposes her heavy breasts;
Offers him a teat.
Lewd men inwardly applaud
This conformability.
--------------------------------------
Young shoji fixers
In Edo are in demand;
And well rewarded.
Their longest ladders can reach
A widows highest window.
--------------------------------------
The stylish long sleeves
Declare she is virtuous;
A pure innocence!
But impatient for the day
When she picks up the Scissors.
--------------------------------------
sometimes lovers meet
kiss and share a bite to eat
one desires sweetmeat
not dessert an extra treat
to savour another’s teat
Observe the modern generations walk
on by; they suckle from the plastic teat
of coffee cups, and stumped by stamping feet
they shamble unaware from flock to flock.—
infant adults—if earnest I may speak;
Look there: one loops in circles (a grand feat!)
and, as if an ornithological suite,
the gaggle shuffles behind,—“squawk squawk squawk!”
Yikes… I suppose that if I ran at ‘em
they’d scatter faster than frightened pigeons.—
Wouldn’t even need to make the barest noise,
merely the sight of a threatening poise
is enough to disperse their religions
(yes—religions—phony, false—“fun”:—numb!).
You ignite the
romance of my dreams.
I wish to encroach your
lips with my
tasty sandwich of perfected
rosemary teat.
I'll make your brain
immune to my soul
so you become out
of breath when far
from your source.
My toes will python
your emotions,
make you feel good with
motions that can't be
found in Neptune.
Oh! my Fairy prince,
should I Massage
those fire clay
masculinity and
blow your mind out of its organ?
I'm devoured by the
moans of your consistency.
Devoted to the strings of
your intentionality.
Should I delineate your
cubes of grip so it
illuminates the lines
of storytellers?
Or are you too shy to
tell the world that,
You're the heel of
my heart, the calf
of my stamina.
The spine of the moon
and the Larynx of the dark stars.
Honey!
I'll let you dance to the rhythm of Calla
Lily while I paint in the beams of Zinnias.
The lawyer was fill with deceit
Kept lying straight through his teat
Got caught in his game
Then said he was frame
He was found mixed in concrete
I think I spent my whole high acting all depressed
I get that feeling in my soul
As the fire goes fleeting from my chest
The decent prevents me to fly
Why leave the nest
Where I am
I feed from the teat of a breast
Content to live or die
The weed I possessed got me caught in the heat
Is this a test
Sweet baby Jesus
Rest your head and try to teach us
To read words repressed
Or to listen to the word of preachers
Truly I don’t feel blessed
Truly I don’t trust believers
I don’t judge based on the rules of freedom
Duly
I don’t restrict myself to the rules until I need them.
Oh the milkshakes in Manila are a wonderful treat
A pretty Filipina is a party complete
The strawberry, blackberry, and blueberry cream
Are second to vanilla in a dewberry dream
Now the seashore in Manila is a beautiful place
The lingering vanilla is a dab on your face
You order second helpings for a lovable flirt
Because she loves vanilla when you offer dessert
Oh the milkshakes in Manila hit a wonderful spot
I always like vanilla when the climate is hot
The girlfriends are friendly when you offer a cone
But don’t you mind the trouble when they get you alone
Now the sailors in Manila are a snaggletooth sort
They favor their vanilla in a haggle-free port
They like to catch the ladies in a lovable swoon
Or marry some vanilla to a strawberry spoon
Oh the milkshakes in Manila are a creamy delight
I like to drink a couple when the weather is right
The tidal waves are winking by the soles of my feet
To drink the star’s vanilla in a milky way teat.
Where it is sold mongrels you meet!
You should guess: venues not too neat
But man shuns not gladdening meat:
Pork buyers do storm in my street…
Children who neared meat mum would beat,
Not like biscuit that spares kids heat.
Quite often mothers such case treat,
Child thief keeps standing, no seat…
Buyer to Butchers “You’re a cheat!”
Except he’d weighed meat to doubts beat;
Next time, butcher one might not greet
From his stand distancing one’s feet…
In most meals men hope to meat meet
Women for ice-cream love more meat,
In their lives meat ahead of wheat;
Nipple never makes it to teat…
Meat’s biggest challenge from sea fish,
In Japan, meat less a food wish.
A seed that was planted, turned a seedling.
Two farmers; one for the seed, the other the seedling.
I remember drinking as if from a bowl, through your teat, the drink of life.
The soft cushions of your gland when I jostled at them, sprang to life.
Then I'd be lulled to a series of sleep dreaming of milk and of breasts.
So often I'd kick in my sleep, and my mouth would still suckle as it rests.
Sorry! I always wailed like an ambulance whenever I woke.
You would carry me off gently, conjure a song, as you paced ,stood, or sat.
Nothing was more important to you; I was no joke.
I remember being in-between your laps, and the various bathing sessions.
You'd wash my head, tummy, other areas, and even my butt.
I doubt any other can fulfill such duties for me as you have.
Fate has taken you from me, but you'll always remain my love.
When I think of the teat and the bath, you made the greatest of impressions.
Now I'm a giant oak, but you can't enjoy my shade.
I may now love some other woman, but my memories of you will never fade.
See you soon!
Law and Order
If you wanted law and order; you would suckle on the teat of justice, not feed the people the excrement of tyranny. Justice is not justice without mercy and mercy is not mercy without justice. For no matter how merciful a punishment, it is cruel and unjust punishment to an innocent man.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
I carry the blood of Vikings
A Norse woman have proven to be
the same blood my ancestral father warmed
With mead for he set off to sea
Should I be conquered or defenses laid low
Is not from the hand of another
worry not of this norwegian
Taught survival at the teat of her mother
There is no situation so dire
Can't dream myself from it's shore
For my friend I am a Viking
And will be evermore.........
Note to reader
Valen translated means shallows
ironically a name I embrace though it's essence a place that bores me to tears.Small talk right up
there with a root canal.
Quitting coffee and should it kill me
Want to say that it's been fun
Sidled up to this specific teat
Not long after my first weaning done
My body trying to clue me in
As I clung to my drug of choice
No longer willing to continue
In stifling my tired kidney's voice
Just read it slows down the flow of lymph
to a toddling terrapin crawl
Immunities highway like that of L.A.'s
Cannot abide it you all
My plan to reduce to a cup a day
Followed by a day after another
It's warmth will be missed the aroma as well
As a weanling ripped from its mother (sob)
Truthfully not looking forward to
Shifting to water and herbal teas
Saying goodbye to my old friend caffeine
Long considered the hairy bee's knees
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