Friday, September 30, 2016

No Tears to Cry

Try to cry when eyes are dry, no lubricant to save your eyes, stare at the air as it continues to dry out your eyes.

Eyes look like dark grey clouds, but weatherman is wrong, no drops ever came around.

Within the storm there’s an eye, no storm, just an eye, calm - makes you think of lip balm while sun bathing under the palms. Look back out at the storm so fierce, you can’t get out of your mind.

What the fuck is wrong…


Down in the Dirt

Does it hurt, when you’re down in the dirt, crud and fucking mud about.  When you create and others get credit and take the clout.  

Start to wonder what life’s about - create to inspire, create like a campsite with no fire - you’ll need to stick it out, rub all you have together, weather the weather, determine whether you’re flame stays lit in any weather.  

Increase, decrease, in between the crease - like a woman ready to climax, you best not cease.

You’re not sure if success is faking it or if it will really come…


Thursday, September 29, 2016

Bar Shots

Open rounds and open gowns, bartender callin’ the shots, the brides on the ground.

Bar closes when vomit closes noses, brick wall stumbling, stumble poses.

Holding hands, slumber holding sand, quick to sleep, wake up to quicksand.

Sinking feeling in the chest of another man…


Angered Sense

When it hurts, it hurts, grip tight till it hurts, feel the pain, lets you know you holdin’ bold

Overcome the hurt, cuts covered undershirt, heart deep, plundered hurt, torn apart, asunder birthed.   

Dig deep, courage announce, you’ll need more than an ounce.

I’m angry and upset, fuckin week is not up yet, tired of chasing the weekend,
It’s time to become an artist like The Weeknd.  Find my voice, let go of Joyce,
She’s ridin’ me like a Rolls Royce.  In the middle of Winter, what a cold choice…


Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Jocks on a Clock

Tickety tickety tock, so many people buy tickets just to watch jocks,
lose sense of time and throw out the clocks.  

Jocks on a clock,
sorority girls nailed jock straps to a clock.  
Football team strapped for time to find their jocks.

On the field yields a human hormone guild,  
Raging on taping, underground tapes reveal all the gaping,
Big A-Holes - quite rude - tried to stick play-doh up the wahzoo…


Possessed Thoughts

I think I’m possessed, a little more than obsessed/
even if I didn’t want this,
these writing skills I still possess. /

I work on my package in the gym - bow-flexed.
Elliptical no treadmill, no toes-flexed, muscles weak after week, asking, have they grow’d yet?

Sweat goes drip drop/ cutie fell on treadmill - tits flopped/  
I swear it wasn’t a good scene, that’s why they flopped/

I tried to help her up, but her tube top/ was down to her tube socks/
so I walked away with boob thoughts.../


Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Room 9-5-6

Room 956, inside a couple treat each other like candy…
Room 9-5-6/ he bends her like a Twizzler, she bites him off like a Twix/

Ouch!/ they were on the couch/ she started to slip with him in her mouth/
Acrobatics on a couch/ he was under performing, so he was benched like Tim Couch/
Upside down, they thought they could defy gravity but in the end it all went south/

He dropped her on the floor, no 5 second rule, took her to the bath and bathed-her/
Cat style - he licked her Now and Later/

They both loved 69, anytime, this time they had 5 Tootsie Rolls in between 9 and 6/  
Powder all over her and I don’t think it’s a Pixie Stick/  Wild, out of control - Pixie he sticked/ with his d.../
Panties/ grew fur looking fury in panties/ inspired by granny/ he didn’t mind,
he called it, cotton candy/  


In a Sauna with Yo' Mama

In a sauna/ with yo’ momma/ offers me sushi - BeniHana/  

Sweat/ like middle of the summer with a top down Corvette/

Tan lines/ - concert in summer - fan lines/

Heat rises/ increased sizes/ ballooned air/ it’s not fair/ men think about breast sizes/
when bread rises/…

Sometimes my mind's dirty/ I wash it daily, but babe’s a bit flirty/ she presses shallow and asks me type her body like QWERTY/

Finger tips type her type - curves out of sight - touch type!


Monday, September 26, 2016

Cupid's Gritty Shot

Can you call an ass full of hearts, art?  
If cupid was an ass, would he still shoot darts at hearts?  
Why do babes reach back for their own ass?  I mean, are they afraid it fell off
In pilates class?
Cupid’s miss dismissed, call this bliss - fit/ looks like she fell down in a dirt pit/
Firm and fit with a bit of grit, hand reaches back to wipe off the grit/
You salivating, wanting to lick -- ick, tongue wants to play the 5 second rule/
Anxious, eager, and excited, emotions of you playing Bejeweled./
You staring at this pic trying to play it cool,
distracted, you can’t bring yourself to play another game of Bejeweled.../ ;-)


Spawned On a Lawn

Grill and lay/ out for days/, Is that smoke from a barbecue/ or is that Barbie’s-cue to lay out and get blazed/?

I don’t see food truck trays, so maybe this is a picnic, without the man named Nick, never shaved and never got nicked.  

Brought finger-foods/ spoke with varied pitch, like singers-do/

Grass on a lawn/ this is what happens when generations have too much sex - nature spawns/


Sunday, September 25, 2016

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Reach out and touch someone, he’s from the 90s, lived by the motto, so he’s always reaching out to touch someone.  

Hand of four fingers and a thumb, in the distance you see a washed up singer and sparkles of sun.  

His recording days are behind him, so in this basement apartment, you’ll find him, without his band, without his men.  

He was a backup anyways, anytime a relative lost their voice - he’d back up his kin.

Singin’ and swash bucklin’ with a mouthful of gin, until his smile became a cheesy grin.
Gin in his house, wore a mustache - whiskers like a mouse, didn’t shave, cuz he never left the house…


Phone Booth'd

Phone Booth’d - Stuck in a phone booth where the tone is mute, like this picture,
The suspense you can’t refute.  Just earlier, she was in the gym workin’ on her glutes’
Trainer had her sprinting in parachutes.  

Escaped the wrath, hot and sweaty all she could think about “Does my hair still look cute?”

She’s thinking - should I call 9-1-1 or order spicy thai for my plus 1.  Conflict of interest looms,
Got to think quick - in the shadows goons loom.

She’s about to give up on the call / dial tone did like her car - - - and stalled/