i have never seen such a perfect v line,
such a perfect neckline
that plunges straight down
down to her heavenly parts,
her wonderous parts that tempt me;
tempt me to lust, to imagine, to desire
to admire all that she has,
all that she possesses
i am able to see
oh that v, that trechuous damn v
is a path leading straight to hell.
Who the freck put snakes on a plane…
how frecking insane.
And not no ordinary ass snakes either:
But them big ass snakes with fangs and teeth. Frigging hell!
But that aint shit, these frigging snakes don’t just bite ya, they does spit on ya.
I mean that hawking, sticky, slimey type spit that does blind ya. Shiiiiiit-.
Ya know this nigga was scared out of his mind in the show right?
Man, I had Galleria for ma self; hollering.
A true wuss.
But that aint no thing, at least I was brave enough to watch the rest of the movie.
Man, it seemed as if they had every damn snake in the world on that plane,
Aint that the shit!
I mean there was absolutely no hint of escape.
No salvation for that lone black man.
where was God in this plan.
Poor Samuel. How he suppose to be superman without his cape: his gun.
But then again, Samuel did look angelic…if you squint ya eyes and ignored the cussing.
Man, even the mile high club couple got bitten,
As they stripped and sucked on each other, fuck on each other.
I know they aint ga do that shit again, nasty ass buggas.
White people always doing fart.
Then there was that ass who got his watnots bitten while he was pissing.
(laughing) the snake wanted to give a blow job he would remember for a life time.
Dang, that must have been painful. My ma always told me to look before ya go.
But shiiiiit. Who the hell puts snake on a frecking plane
gad dang, that’s frickign insane…
They came in our lives promising us salvation,
Promising us revelation, a better life without tribulation.
They told us about a One High God, an Almighty being,
whom we must worship and serve in order to live again.
We were transfigured,
and subsequently accepted the faith;
Not knowing that we would have to be their servants
In order to serve their God!
It started from a kiss
It started from a kiss: A sweet and innocent kiss,
A kiss that can be compared to any other.
Then, from that kiss, that passionate kiss,
Tongues danced and enjoyed each other.
And from that kiss that simple kiss,
Desire did flare and bloom,
Creating a need to touch and caress,
Thus the need to go further loomed.
And from a touch, a harmless touch:
One that was awkward yet light,
A lust did flourish that surmounted all lust,
Which urged bodies to rub in the night.
And from that touch: a pleasurable touch,
A need to explore was plain,
A need to expose certain parts,
A need to be a sexual being.
And from this need, this basic need,
Flesh met flesh with desire,
Breaths quicken and pulse raced,
And bodies did perspire.
And because of a kiss, a simple kiss,
Bodies yearned for each other,
Proving the fact, that there is more to a kiss
For the need will arise to go further.
laughing…
Obie,
it sounds as if you are feeding entire the world; giving your all; sharing your entire essence; nurturing the 5000 with a mere 2 fishes and a loaf knowing fully well that you are out of miracles?
Obie,
Personally for me, the individual words of “pussy” and “blood” make a horrible mix! I did not envision pretty or nice, all I saw were these individual words fighting with each other, causing an ugly site.
I attempted to appreciate the mere words of it, the poetry of it, the splendor of it; however, it being so abrupt, my usual appreciation of your poetical journey was stopped by a period.
CN
June 1st, 2006, they all travelled to Mecca: to Bahamas Faith Ministry, Carmichael Road. In order to worship; in order to pay tribute, to pay homage to He and she.
Here poets spoke, musicians play and sang; all artists in the Bahamas sat and remember that a great one, a fellow artisan has journeyed to her King.
It seems as if there is a time and place where all artists go and let loose and blow their horns.
Kayla rest in peace!
CN
She intended to educate me
About the environment,
The science of it,
The objective of it,
How we survive, effect
And thrive within it.
-However, all I can see
And think about are her breasts.
How they full and stretch her shirt,
How they spill out and jiggle
How they tease and taunt me
How her breasts seem to want me to touch:
Oh God, how I want to touch.
I enjoyed this poem; however, I was left wondering, questioning, searching for the objective; the true subject of this piece.
I find that my concern is not regarding whether the poem was good or bad, because it is good; but rather I am afraid that I found it too loose: Too big, too sloppy, too free. One big hole, wet, deep, intoxicating however, my simple wooden mind is too small to enjoy the thrusting of its words.
Tighten it up and let me enjoy it!
CN
Large capacities of women have hearts surrounded by
Picket fences with barbwires on top and
Warning signs that say
“Beware of me – I sting!”
My bite will dig up dirt as if
I was digging wells.
(c) Georgette Gray
www.wittyrealism.blogspot.com
