Long Slobbering Poems
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Imagine a world where only you and I exist
and only you and I matter.
No boundaries ,
no limits, no
consequences...Only you and I free.
Free to behave as we feel
free to express our undeniable love
for one another in a way that we've never thought possible.
Now, Imagine me in this world..
overwhelmed by the joy that I fell now that
I have a chance to show you that I am
officially and will always be...
all yours for the taking
Because this here is our world and
in it we can reach the ultimate climax that
comes without the illusion of doubt...
because I want to see you explode all over me
Imagine me taking off all of my clothes and
turning on all of the lights....Touching vulupuious
polcretude in hopes of becoming all of what you desire..
Caressing my soft satin wanting you more
with every stroke between my legs..
Begging for your assistance with every lick of my nipples
Screaming your name with every clap of my cheeks...
Baby I'm yours please just take me!
Imagine me walking towards you;
lust in my eyes...love in my heart
Intentions to please every last one of your need
in any and every possible world.
Imagine me french kissing you passionately
from top to bottom...in hopes of tasting every last drop
of your thirst quenching bodily juices
Imagine me seductively massaging your chest
just before I beggin my feast there...
making you feel like the man you've always wished to be
awaiting my next endeavor
Imagine me provocatively stroking your manhood
while slowly french kissing his tip...Enjoying all of
the pre-orgasmic juices that taste so sweet as the slide
onto to my tongue
Imagine me sucking and slobbering all over him..
no teeth only tongue and throat...Moaning in joy
as his head hits my tonsils as I deep throa
with no gag reflex..
I can Taste your love forever!
Imagine my punani soaked in my warm juices
as a result of the pleased look in your eyes...
hot and anxious to feel your throbbing manhood deep inside
of her love exploring all that my body has to offer.
Imagine yourself suddenly coming back to reality
only to realize that it was all nothing more
than just an image
A figure of your intense and quite disturbing
imagination
Form:
Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...
studious sexagenarian skinny scruffy scribe
My utmost humblest apology
for inducing the following
cerebral calisthenics upon your cranium,
but the cost of friendship
with yours truly
(me – a foo fighting,
eagle eyed, beatle browed, beastie boy
christened Matthew Scott Harris)
doth newt come
like some hootie and the blowfish
super tramping
cheap trick linkedin to
wings at the reo speed wagon
spinning zz top soundcloud.
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sing,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning smartass,
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
There was pity for one second for the victim in this case,
when 'Hilly', 'Bee' and me were walking to our drinking place.
We were slobbering in thought for what keeps us all afloat,
then 'Hilly's' eyes flew open wide - "Is that a hundred dollar note!"
A hundred 'bucks' was lying there upon the unknown nature strip.
'Should we hand it in' 'Bee' mentioned with a quivered bottom lip,
but the vote was three to zero when 'Hilly' mentioned that the 'brass',
"Would buy a slab of VB plus half an ounce of 'grass".
'Bee' and I ain't into drugs but seeing 'Hilly' found the cash,
we brought ourselves the VB and let 'Hilly' buy his 'stash',
then walked to the Catholic Church and sat around the back,
where we drank our first three cans and 'Hilly' opened up his 'pack'.
I watched him lick his papers, and stick together three or four,
and roll his 'grass' just like a 'snag' but then he broke the law.
He lit the 'joint' and took a drag, but then went 'glassy eye',
and from this point was senseless, and believed that he could fly!
Not only did he flap his wings; 'Hilly' thought that it was hot,
and stripped down to his birthday suit displaying what he's got.
'Bee' and I laughed at his antics 'til he ran out on the street,
and done his style of ballet dancing 'round, everyone he'd meet.
No matter how we tried to help him 'Hilly' stuffed the plan,
with a big grin on his dial and shouting out 'peace man!'
It might be alright for 'Hilly' thinking all the worlds at peace,
but that became a different matter with intrusion of p'lice.
Because we're in the company of a bloke whose floating high,
the coppers threw us in the van for what I don't know why!
But said they wanted statements from the pair of us, that's all,
while 'Hilly' stumbled out some garble 'bout making a phone call.
Now under legal obligation 'Hilly' dialed and then he spoke,
and in a very short time at the desk there stood a bloke.
The copper said, "Are you the lawyer, for that doped up dill?"
"No" the bloke replied - "I've got pizza's here for David Hill".
Lascivious Friends Amends
Coincidence, simultaneity, with a pinch of merriment
And convergence of moments, opened up this gate to hell
(I had to open the door…didn't I ?…)
It was at their convenience, not mine
Cursed by fate, unwanted visitors, (I forget their names.)
I only knew them as fornicators
The lascivious friends, (Not mine. I inherited them.)
Converged on me, a wild pack of hungry hyenas
Yelping, laughing, “Where’s the food!”
Kissing and slobbering all over themselves
Antique furniture and glass began to shatter from their antics
We were all mutual friends of Jack
I wish he’d take them back
They originated, I suspected, speculated
From unknown depths, bottom feeders, society leaches
The underbelly of low life
As synchronicity would have it, in its awful syn-chronic manner
I had to face them, entertain them, could not escape them
Had to be a proper host
A host in the true sense of the word
The parasites took hold of me
Bled me dry of all my food and drink
Did I mention that they stink…or is it stank?
Nearly bending me in half down to their lowly level
They implored me, no, they insisted on more and more
There were four of them who strained my will
Two men, two woman, as they proclaimed aristocracy
I drove off to the store to get them more
When I returned with beer and snacks
They asked me for a favor
To stay forever as they unpacked
I said, is doomsday a good starting date?
They laughed
I called the girls, Jane and Jane
The boys I called Bob and Bob since I did not know their names
And they did not care what I called them
As long as they could stay
Jack, my roommate, was out of town
He would not return
His parents didn't raise a dummy
They trained him well
I was stuck with a couple of nameless Jane’s
And Bob and Bob. Let’s call them double Bob’s
The lascivious ones were here to stay
Debauchery all the way
They will have to live on beer and pretzels
As I await doomsday and pray it comes today
9/23/14 Poems or new magazine please - Poetry Contest
When I was seventeen, they say,
That I was quite a punk,
Living in Las Vegas,
With a lady who was drunk.
Working as a valet,
For a place of ill renown,
When I got a bigger break,
Working as a clown.
Underneath the big top,
I could be myself because,
Nobody recognized me,
For the kind of man I was.
One day, subsequently,
When the crowd was having fun,
Laughing at my clown suit,
And my make-up neatly done.
I stepped outside the circus tent,
For just a quickie break,
When suddenly a UFO,
Appeared for heaven’s sake.
A silver flying saucer landed,
Next to where I stood,
But when the hatch door opened,
Well, I knew it wasn’t good.
A beam of light encased me,
And it drew me to the ship,
I tried my best to get away,
And break the saucer's grip.
Despite my whole resistance,
I was pulled into the hatch,
Resigned to my existence,
In a game of set and match.
Surprisingly, no aliens,
Were anywhere in sight,
And yet, I heard a disco dance,
Resounding in the night.
I followed where the frenzied crowd,
Was dancing to the beat,
But when they saw me as a clown,
They thought I had big feet.
Immediately, I noticed,
That the dancers were female,
As beautiful as sunrise,
Or an evening fairy tale.
They seemed to come on strong to me,
Although I was a clown,
But no one stayed too long with me,
Or came from my hometown.
How difficult the dancing goes,
With great big floppy shoes,
But when the music ended,
I offered to recuse.
These ladies danced me down,
When I never ate my lunch,
And offered me a lullaby,
With Cream of Broccoli punch.
I woke up on a tropical island,
And what a sight to see,
The daughter of a headhunter,
Was slobbering on me.
I loved my island paradise,
The sand, the surf, the sea,
But I had problems, to be sure,
With hospitality.
Next time that you eat broccoli,
Will you pause and let it be?
I'm stranded on this island,
With a native chasing me.
Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...
studious skinny scruffy scribe
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sing,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning smartass,
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
twasn’t an absence of belief in
hexes or voodoo ****, black magic,
witches or warlocks,
which brought to mind the maddening
of the crickets, for
900 species of those sinister gryllidae
couldn’t be wrong &
they came anyway---
chirping their nocturnal nonsense &
forcing the writer to rack her brain,
as all she wanted was to keep the
mental
pedal
to the
metal &
yet, nature allows no rest for the
proverbial wicked---
with said writer being the type
who would stick it out to the last
moment of supposed sanity,
she finally snapped!
not being able to get a word down
because of those damn crickets,
not being able to get a sentence down
because of those goddamned crickets,
not being able to get a paragraph down
(with a deadline at hand) in the middle
of the goddamned morning,
amidst the noise pollution just outside
her window,
all because of those
god****ingdamned crickets!!!
so swiftly,
like the wing’s flap of the most
eloquent great bird which comes to
mind,
she jumped from her seat & went to the
gun cabinet---
there, she kept a bb gun, a fashionable
revolver that once having the CO2 capsule
popped in, looked menacing enough
(she felt) to fend off an intruder,
whilst at the same time, it didn’t really
infringe upon her stance on gun control.
with this, she went outside,
bb gun in hand &
started blazing away
without any real notion that what she
commenced
would put any dent in the insanity that these
goddamned crickets
had manifested upon her
&
as the chirping sounds did not &
would not cease,
she dropped to her knees after her
bb gun was empty,
weeping, sobbing &
slobbering tears & spit all over herself,
curled up in a fetal position right out
there in her back yard,
submitting herself to the servitude of
the insects at hand.
And I witness
Your deplorable “glory”
Hunching over my tattered spine,
So we can have something in common
You walk with glorified shell-shock,
Another sentient tongue,
Straddling on the Eros of vindication
Your sandpaper hands
Reach for an assaulted tenderness
Embracing lambasted lyric
Another tenor’s proclamation
That their oxidized octaves
Are legitimately sound
…
Nobody is listening.
…
So, you try to rectify your ill-erect
Compass
Only heading south
Bound
By meandering prophecies,
Unwritten
Undeclared
Just another pre-historic fool
Believing the Jamaican grass is greener on
The other side
Puff your corrupted beliefs
Toward laundered Benjamins
While I soak in the bloodied joy,
That I remain priceless
…
Approach me
While you suffer tiny warden syndrome
In High Definition
Be the insignificant syllable that
Becomes, you, a fragmented figment
Of your re-imagination
Call in your slobbering pinchers and
Convince them why dethroning my smile
Will be that change you conspire,
Because I stood taller than the arrogant
Umbilical c(h)ord that breastfeeds your high horse
For I am you
I am you
Every kick, every punch, every verbal attack
Every overcompensating, born-again glare
You blasphemously portray
But, it is not me you scar.
IT IS NOT ME THAT YOU SCAR!
…
Your one-night stand with perception
Succumbs your third-eye
Keep drinking from your bloodied, rustic w(h)ine glass,
As you drown in your declarations of dependence
Screaming to be louder than love
Louder than your ordained intentions
To become a speck of importance
To be worth something,
Something more,
Than the lunging foot you believe
Will keep me down
©D.J.E.
A laugh
can be more terrifying
than a roar or a scream
in the wrong light,
In the long night,
Lunatic giggles
Idiot he-haws
Obscene chuckles
When the quiet hour, the full moon time,
Spreads its leathery wings
Jaw aching, teeth chattering,
Cruel cold
Spits sleet at your window
The monster slobbering down the glass
That sound...
That ugly, witless noise
Turns your knees to rotten fruit
Your emotions become demons toys
a sweating statue
Only your eyes able to move, jittering
Hyper awareness
Night vision and your hearing acute
You can almost count the stitches
of your shirt through the skin of your back
Every minùte tick, Every quiet whoosh of air
Noticed like a stripper on stage
Ancient supernatural powers,
animal instincts
Awaken to the thrumming of your over active heart
Short blips, images, stutter brightly
In your mind
A painted clown face with evil teeth
Wall-eyed stare no where near funny
A corpse with skull decomposing before your eyes
The blue- black face that haunts you
Arms aching to feel the weight of him
Time to shut the doors, bar the windows, lock the box in your mind…
Time to tell the whisper man enough is enough
Remind yourself of the words of truth…
“Philippians 4:7-8
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep d your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
Rinse and repeat
We gathered for our thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I'd avoided such past events since in school I was largely ignored!
But my spouse proclaimed we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate!
A social hour preceded the buffet where the booze freely flowed!
I looked about the room to see if I could spot anyone that I knowed.
I hardly recognized the campus queen - she had acquired a heap of weight!
That once haughty snob now tipped the scales, I judged, at one ninety-eight!
I saw the big-man-on-campus who was named most apt to score success.
He had a dearth of hair, an ample gut and an astonishing lack of finesse!
Some gal with purple hair staggered up to me and planted a slobbering kiss!
Must've been one of my old flames as I mused, "Now, who in hell is this!"
Guys gravitated my way boasting about this and that bending my ear.
They bored me with nasty jokes and trivia that I really didn't want to hear!
Of course I told all how great they looked, staring them dead in the eye,
And asking the Lord's forgiveness and crossed my fingers for telling such a lie!
The jocks were trying to impress one and all with their waning capabilities.
Most were hobbling about with canes discreetly masking their disabilities!
'Twas an interesting eve and the grub was great, of that there is no doubt,
But for our fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth reunions, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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