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Thread: Poetry Corner

  1. #91
    Home Brewer Extraordinair Keith's Avatar
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    This is something I wrote on the spot years ago to entertain an online friend, presented here in all its rawness.

    Alex was a dominatrix, and a mean old bitch was she

    Such a mean old bitch that some speculated she was a he

    But Alex was as woman as was possible

    The presence of a pole between her legs: impossible

    She liked to whip and beat and humiliate men

    His pride was quickly crushed whenever she would begin

    One day there arrived at her place of business

    A tall dark and handsome man, who's suit was pressed as neatness

    He inquires as to the going rate of a beating

    The mistress says Alex will be with you after she's done eating

    Alex finishes her green eggs and ham

    And come out to the waiting room to find this hunk of a man

    The man says "Mistress Alex, I would so like a turn with you"

    Alex says "get in line bub, I have so much more work to do"

    The man takes a seat while Alex disappears in the back

    Through the curtains he can hear another man being attacked

    Alex finally emerges with a man who had suffered burns

    She looked at the tall man and says "Ok mister, now it's your turn!"

    The man says "My name's Devon, how may I serve?"

    Alex says "Devon? Wrong! Your new name is 'Worm!'"

    She pulls out her whip and smacks him across the face

    She then kicks his nuts just so he knows his place

    He buckles over and manages a grin

    She says "you can't smile yet! I'm just starting to begin!"

    She rips off his suit and throws him against the wall

    She takes a good look at him now that she can see it all

    The Gods never made a finer specimen of man

    She tried to contain her lust using all that she can

    "You! On the rack!" she said

    But what she wanted to say was "I wanna take you to bed"

    She tied him down to the torture device with straps

    While she was doing it, she copped a feel of his ass

    "You will suffer greatly at the end of my whip!"

    But all she wanted was the thrusting of his hips

    She smacked him with the leather again and again

    But marring his perfect body caused her all the pain

    She tried to get it out of her mind as she melted the hot wax

    But the sight of such a stud cut her heart like an axe

    She poured the boiling brew over his naked body

    But he did not scream, or twist or make any sign of pain she could see

    "Why don't you scream?" she said "or at least beg for mercy?"

    "I have no need" he said "As you have yet to hurt me!"

    "You stud of a man!" said she "I've given you my pain!

    And you don't even flinch, despite my strain!"

    "You silly girl" said the man "Your whips and wax can't hurt me

    For a woman tore my heart out, I HAVE no more feeling"

    She pressed her mouth to his and kissed him passionately

    "You lips are sweet" she said "I want them just for me"

    "My lips are yours " he said "And the rest of my body as well

    Do what you will with me, I am numb and cannot tell"

    She grabbed his cock and rubbed it till it was stiff

    "I will take you now" she said "no ands, buts or ifs"

    She ripped off her own panties and mounted his member

    His was the largest that she could remember

    She rode up and down on him till she climaxed with glee

    "Is that all you've got?" he said "There's still plenty left of me"

    She said "You are a superman this, I know

    No man can last this long when I give him a go"

    She untied his straps and let the big man loose

    She bent over and said "Now stick it in my caboose"

    He grabbed her ass and slid in her back door

    And as he pounded her she screamed "more MORE!"

    She came again in a vocal demeanor

    The man knew now, she was a screamer

    "Let me tie you up" he said "It will be so much fun

    You'll cum a dozen times more before I am done"

    She agreed and he strapped her down with leather

    She was sure that she would never have a shag better

    He slid back into her and she came one more time

    Never before had she felt so fine

    His pace increased and she knew it would soon come to fruition

    She wondered if he would come, or find another position

    The look on his face told her all

    Soon his climax would befall

    But he pulled it out early and shot it on her face

    Then he slapped her, to add to disgrace

    "You stupid bitch" he said "did you really believe?

    That I had come here for a purpose other than to deceive?"

    Stunned, she wonder what he was getting at

    She had given him good sex, so why this spat?

    He said "you're a fool if you though you could get away

    When you screwed over Bob that one faithful day

    Now Bob hired me to come after you

    Knowing you like the tall ones as you do

    And as you did when you made it with that hockey team

    You sucked all their cocks, and your ass they did ream

    And Bob was at home wondering where you are

    You called and told him you had trouble with the car

    But Bob found out and hired me he did

    To screw you over, like you did to him

    And now I leave you, tied with and cover in cum

    I bid you good day, my work here is done"

    He walked away leaving her in a condition so shoddy

    As he moved she studied his perfect body

    The sweat made his muscles glisten and shine

    Before he was out of sight she cried "please call me sometime!"

  2. #92
    not long for this world nihilist's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Saxual NoBlet View Post
    You could drown a toddler in Lily's panties right now.

  3. #93
    My ballsack is half full Üser Friendly's Avatar
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    Jack Sprat would eat no fat,
    His wife would eat no lean.

    So together every night,
    They'd lick the platter clean.
    die dümmsten Bauern haben die dicksten Kartoffeln

  4. #94
    not long for this world nihilist's Avatar
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    There was a thick paddy named winkers

    Whose jokes all turned out to be stinkers

    Well after he shat

    He called his trained cat

    For his own tongue can't reach all his clinkers.

  5. #95
    My ballsack is half full Üser Friendly's Avatar
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    There once was a yanky called Reece
    Who loved the smell of wet fleece
    Shepards who saw him
    Would stop what they're doing
    And imediately call the police
    die dümmsten Bauern haben die dicksten Kartoffeln

  6. #96
    your avatar gives me epiliptic fits Adouglasmhor's Avatar
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    Goosey goosey gander,
    Whither shall I wander?
    Upstairs and downstairs
    And in my lady's chamber.
    There I met an old man
    Who wouldn't say his prayers,
    So I took him by his left leg
    And threw him down the stairs
    Don’t say, “It’s been a good day” till sundown.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good wife” till she’s buried.
    Don’t say, “It’s a good sword” till you’ve tested it.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good girl” till she’s married off.
    Don’t say, “The ice is safe” till you’ve crossed it.
    Don’t say, “The beer is good” till you’ve drunk the last of it.

    From Hávamál, a Norse poem

  7. #97
    your avatar gives me epiliptic fits Adouglasmhor's Avatar
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    Roch the wind in the clear day's dawin
    Blaws the cloods heilster-gowdie owre the bay
    But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin
    Thro the Great Glen o the warld the day
    It's a thocht that wad gar oor rottans
    Aa thae rogues that gang gallus fresh an gay
    Tak the road an seek ither loanins
    Wi thair ill-ploys tae sport an play

    Nae mair will our bonnie callants
    Merch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw
    Nor wee weans frae pitheid an clachan
    Mourn the ships sailin doun the Broomielaw
    Broken faimlies in lands we've hairriet
    Will curse 'Scotlan the Brave' nae mair, nae mair
    Black an white ane-til-ither mairriet
    Mak the vile barracks o thair maisters bare

    Sae come aa ye at hame wi freedom
    Never heed whit the houdies croak for Doom
    In yer hoose aa the bairns o Adam
    Will find breid, barley-bree an paintit room
    When Maclean meets wi's friens in Springburn
    Aa thae roses an geans will turn tae blume
    An yon black boy frae yont Nyanga
    Dings the fell gallows o the burghers doun.

    Translated literally to English, this would be:
    Rough the wind in the clear day's dawning
    Blows the clouds head over heels over the bay
    But there's more than a rough wind blowing
    Through the Great Glen of the world today
    It's a thought that would make our rats
    All those rogues that go boldly fresh and gay
    Take the road to seek other pastures
    With their ill-ploys to sport and play

    No more will our handsome youths
    March to war when our braggarts arrogantly crow
    Nor small children from pithead and village
    Mourn the ships sailing down the Broomielaw
    Broken families in lands we've harried
    Will curse Scotland the Brave no more, no more
    Black and white to each other married
    Make the vile barracks of their masters bare

    So come all you at home with freedom
    Never heed what the hooded crows croak for Doom
    In your house all the children of Adam
    Will find bread, whisky[2] and painted room
    When Maclean meets with his friends in Springburn
    All those roses and wild cherries will turn to bloom
    And the black boy over there from far Nyanga
    Knocks the cruel gallows of the burghers down.
    Don’t say, “It’s been a good day” till sundown.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good wife” till she’s buried.
    Don’t say, “It’s a good sword” till you’ve tested it.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good girl” till she’s married off.
    Don’t say, “The ice is safe” till you’ve crossed it.
    Don’t say, “The beer is good” till you’ve drunk the last of it.

    From Hávamál, a Norse poem

  8. #98
    your avatar gives me epiliptic fits Adouglasmhor's Avatar
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    Don’t say, “It’s been a good day” till sundown.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good wife” till she’s buried.
    Don’t say, “It’s a good sword” till you’ve tested it.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good girl” till she’s married off.
    Don’t say, “The ice is safe” till you’ve crossed it.
    Don’t say, “The beer is good” till you’ve drunk the last of it.

    From Hávamál, a Norse poem

  9. #99
    My ballsack is half full Üser Friendly's Avatar
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    TS Eliot - The Hollow Men

    A penny for the Old Guy

    I

    We are the hollow men
    We are the stuffed men
    Leaning together
    Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
    Our dried voices, when
    We whisper together
    Are quiet and meaningless
    As wind in dry grass
    Or rats' feet over broken glass
    In our dry cellar

    Shape without form, shade without colour,
    Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

    Those who have crossed
    With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
    Remember us - if at all - not as lost
    Violent souls, but only
    As the hollow men
    The stuffed men.


    II

    Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
    In death's dream kingdom
    These do not appear:
    There, the eyes are
    Sunlight on a broken column
    There, is a tree swinging
    And voices are
    In the wind's singing
    More distant and more solemn
    Than a fading star.

    Let me be no nearer
    In death's dream kingdom
    Let me also wear
    Such deliberate disguises
    Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
    In a field
    Behaving as the wind behaves
    No nearer -

    Not that final meeting
    In the twilight kingdom


    III

    This is the dead land
    This is cactus land
    Here the stone images
    Are raised, here they receive
    The supplication of a dead man's hand
    Under the twinkle of a fading star.

    Is it like this
    In death's other kingdom
    Waking alone
    At the hour when we are
    Trembling with tenderness
    Lips that would kiss
    Form prayers to broken stone.


    IV

    The eyes are not here
    There are no eyes here
    In this valley of dying stars
    In this hollow valley
    This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
    In this last of meeting places
    We grope together
    And avoid speech
    Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

    Sightless, unless
    The eyes reappear
    As the perpetual star
    Multifoliate rose
    Of death's twilight kingdom
    The hope only
    Of empty men.


    V

    Here we go round the prickly pear
    Prickly pear prickly pear
    Here we go round the prickly pear
    At five o'clock in the morning.
    Between the idea
    And the reality
    Between the motion
    And the act
    Falls the Shadow
    For Thine is the Kingdom
    Between the conception
    And the creation
    Between the emotion
    And the response
    Falls the Shadow
    Life is very long
    Between the desire
    And the spasm
    Between the potency
    And the existence
    Between the essence
    And the descent
    Falls the Shadow
    For Thine is the Kingdom
    For Thine is
    Life is
    For Thine is the

    This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    This is the way the world ends
    Not with a bang but a whimper.
    die dümmsten Bauern haben die dicksten Kartoffeln

  10. #100
    Hermetic Syntactical Disruptorize's Avatar
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    Less said the better,
    The bill unpaid, dead letter.
    No roses at the end
    Of Smith, my friend.

    Last words don't matter,
    For there are none to flatter.
    Words will not fill the post
    Of Smith, the ghost.

    For Smith, our brother,
    Only son of loving mother,
    The ocean lifted, stirred,
    Leaving no word.
    You know where you'll find sympathy: In the dictionary, between "syphilis" and "suicide".

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