Poetry competition CLOSED 27th February 2021 4:06pm
Go to page:

a man’s world

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

your turn boys
see it wasn’t that hard to wait for it was it?

i want to read masculinity , love, pain, the ways in which you are chained, what makes you angry, what makes you happy, your gripes and grievances with women, uhh you get the idea

same as before this competition is open to all regardless of gender identity

come on and show me what you got

poet Anonymous

[ Bad Raps ] My Super Hard Love

        
Here I come now          
         
right in your face          
         
with my super hard love          
         
what you can never get enough of!          
         
A---l---l   n---i---g---h---t   l---o---n---g          
My super hard love          
is an endless Karaoke song          
whump thump hump whump          
         
whump          
         
Larger than life;    
a Godzilla terrorizing every villa          
in the countryside from Bangkok to Manilla          
while the womenfolk run to hide          
until they stop, turn, and see          
whump thump hump whump          
what a huge lover I can be          
          
My super hard love          
          
dangling high in the sky above          
     
A huge pair of wrecking balls          
busting through your city walls!          
         
I came in rike a wrecking brawl          
I never hit so hard before          
All I raunted rusto .....
         
         
Enough with the Karaoke!          
         
H---e----r---e   I   c---o---m---e   n---o---w          
r-i-g-h-t   i-n   y-o-u-r   f-a-c-e          
         
I'm coming at you Gangnam style          
         
with my super hard love          
         
what you can never get enough of!        
         
ZOOM!          
When I enter the bedroom          
---there's a sonic boom          
as if from fighter jets    
scrambling off to war          
When I lock onto you          
and deliver my payload          
as in multiple rockets, Baby          
( yes, I'm that quick to reload )         
you will never ever be wanting    
another lover anymore          
         
whump thump hump whump          
My super hard love          
wank spank wank spank          
         
Coming at you fast and furious          
making you delirious          
when I get behind you          
and do the Tokyo Drift          
slide into your backseat          
cranking hard left          
then swiftly right          
leaning into every curve          
Don't panic --- it will be alright          
It most definitely will be a night          
you will never ever forget          
wank spank wank spank          
My super hard love          
whump thump hump whump          
You'll never forget          
my super hard love, Baby          
whump          
         
         
 
poet Anonymous

What Men Want

I'll now tell a little story
About a young lad named John
He could trick you into sex
He was one hell of a con
But when you'd wake up
Well, he'd already be gone
To him you meant nothing
You were nothing but a pawn
Only one thing you could do
To keep John's attention on you
A hammer fist to his sack
Not one but a few
Bully his package, you need to be cruel
Your bat and his sword. now begin the duel
If you emerge victorious and leave his cock aching
Your hand in marriage John will be taking
poet Anonymous

Don't Judge A Book By It's Cover

I caress her cheek
As my knees start to tremble
They begin to feel weak
Pull down pants, reveal thimble
She laughs at its size
Tears fill up my eyes
But not in embarrassment
In amusement of her clueless demise
I feed off her taunts
They help my tic tac grow
It begins to swell
To the length of big toe
Her laughing subsides
As it reaches mid-thighs
I begin to grin
As it reaches my shin
How did she not know
Had she not heard from other hoes
That mighty meat reaches capacity
When it brushes my toes
She is now officially dumbfounded
Before, expecting a thumb poundin
I insert into her cavity
She now gets the full gravity
Of the cum trap upon which she has fallen
She leaves my room eleven seconds later
Not walkin, but crawlin
poet Anonymous

Serfin’ U.S.A.

No, I know, I’m supposed
to empathize with you,
but I don’t

middle finger to cancel culture

slob on my knob just like
your mom

leave you beaten and
bloodied in the
streets of whatever
city you’re rioting
in now

whole-ass articles in corporate
magazines on how
Big Labor, Big Business, &
Big Tech
rigged the
election to “fortify” the
results

straight laughing in the
faces of all us serfs

movements get
astroturfed

I jab the dagger straight
into your bladder and
calmly watch you
bleed out

the “cause” petered out
after the election because
it was no longer useful to
these disgusting, craven,
power mongers

dementia with its finger
on the button

big titties can’t disguise the
blatant lies when you’re
crying on the
senate
floor

you never struggled, you
never suffered

you just read about it in
the history books or
you heard about it at
the protest from some
stinking shitbag that
thought revolution was
a means to getting
laid

now you’re filled with last
night’s regrets, now you
were just a teenager that
didn’t know any better, now
you were Evan Rachel Wood

and now that your options
were drying up, that demon
that always claimed he was
the devil has your eyes
wide open


poet Anonymous

Brand New Mercedes

“Hey, you’re not gonna try
To make out with me back here
Are you?”
“What?! No!”
“Why not?”

in the backseat of the new Benz
on the way to the pizza joint
she puts her hand on my inner thigh
as we try to be discreet from
the passenger and driver in front
I see his eyes in the rearview
And I squint and smile
As she gabs in the passenger seat
Fuck that, I grab her hand
And put it on my crotch
And make rubbing motions
Her eyes kind of bug out at me
Through those black-framed glasses
I find so sexy for some reason
I unzip my jeans and put her hand
Through the opening,
But it’s tight and only her fingers
Make it through to my jockey-covered
Erection
He just got the windows tinted to
The darkest shade legally possible
So it’s dark in there
But it’s springtime in Los Angeles
And the sun is shining through
The windshield
There are some dry-cleaned shirts
That were hanging on the hook
By the side door
That we had to move around
So we could sit comfortably and we’re sort
Of using that as cover and I don’t
Know how effective that is
But she’s not stopping
And it feels kind of weird and good
Because it’s new
And we’ve always had this
Sexual tension that usually nothing
Gets done about in corporate offices
All over America
And she’s wriggling those fingers
As I’m thinking about pulling it out
Because I’m this close to climax
And she’s still blabbing up front
As the radio plays some annoying reggaeton
At low volume
And I catch his eye one last time
In the rearview
And give a mock-surprised look
The friction has undone my button
And so my crotch is exposed except
For the jockeys
And she slips her hand down
The elastic
I pull my shirt down over it
For cover
And it looks like a gerbil trying
To squirm out of a tangle of laundry
The skin on skin contact along
With the pre-cum acting as bad lubricant
Got me ready to jizz all over this bitch
But just then, he hits a dip in the
Entrance of the pizza parking lot
And you hear that terrible screech
Of metal on concrete
“SHIT!!!” he says
As she yanks her hand from
My crotch
And I’m left there with
A coconut-smasher, purple nuts,
And a struggle button
As I pull my shirt down even further

The pizza is okay
And later on I will ask her
If she wants to rendezvous
On the stairwell
And she will say
No.



poet Anonymous

JESSE'S SOLILOQUY

play
pretend
'til you believe
and god knows
ain't but some of it
real
and our truths
are tender just
under
the skin
where all what's meek
or mild
is kept
secret

'cause we learn
quick
that a man's a man,
strong
and swaggered,
hard clenched
and bound
to walk off his pain
and be the keeper
of all what's his

so, goddamn, baby,
let me be the keeper
poet Anonymous

Sister

 


So you didn’t grasp it, the
first time, you became
a statistic at the end of his fist

…and…

went back for another round?

(Yes, he was STILL not only the asshole,
but also the hair around it.)

His balls belong in a meat grinder.

It looks like YOU might’ve grown a pair, though
(or started to)
because you left him (again)
hopefully for good (this time).

I love you, Sis, but
I really want to shake women like you
by the shoulders
and scream into your face, while
watching your head, bobble
back and forth:

“You don’t need anti-depressants
because you don’t have a boyfriend!!!”


Christ, Almighty—
what does it take
to not define yourself
based on your relationship status?
poet Anonymous

Such a foolish heart

 
We wandered in the selfless mist  
Holding each other intensely tender  
Prevailing love till the lovelorn sits  
Born dreams, never deserved splendor,  

Such as a bitter unaquit taste  
As tears shower down my face  
Our most beautiful ardent embrace  
My sacrificed heart aches,  

Matching woman, I will never find  
This bereft soul tells me to undo  
The perfect crush angel in my mind  
As I breathe her essence still soon,  
 
Never an end, to cache her airy  
With a hollow unstinting spot  
In my universe set upon faery  
The width willing a tottering heart,  
 
So this sun sets unto a fallen night  
No beloved to ever come close  
Her moon to never again see rise  
My soul cry, forever tarry host  
 
poet Anonymous

Exit Wound

 

You remember that time
you wrote letters
to your younger self

said things like
don’t let love
mess you up

fuck fiercely

punch harder

action,
aggression—
never submission.

You didn’t allow yourself
that gift of mercy;
to feel your body wrapped
in soft silk and tough hide
simultaneously

to weave a seamless join
between feasible
and animal.

Lie to yourself
about who and what
you are, and you will
eternally lie about
everything.

I have stopped
denying myself
what my hands crave

no longer defined
by shoving my round self
into societal square boxes

be it
man
woman

anything
inbetween

I lay no apologies
on the altar of blue
and pink.

I want to be close—
close to everything
that makes me feel alive

close enough
to love my skin
as I fall asleep.

poet Anonymous

I Gotta Good One

I can't write about how women always want to change you, rearrange you, chain you
No, I'll never say a bad word about the drama, the “I can't stand your mama”, and the trauma it causes
You'll not hear me complain about the spending, or the bills never ending  
I'll never complain about her getting ready for hours, and the “why don't you buy me flowers”  
Nope, not gonna talk about the “pay attention to me”, instead of the AFC, or the WWE  
My lips will never mouth the “Why don't you take me out”, or mock the way she pouts.  
Nope, and you know why?  
Cause I found a girl who doesn't want to fight  
And why?  
Because I treat her right  
Women only want to change you cause you're shit to begin with  
So buck it up, Buttercup, and be a man  
  
She's never tried to change me, cause she likes who I am, what would she change me into?  
She hates drama even more than I do  
She's frugal to a fault, and she never spends money on a whim  
She's ready before I am, and I buy her flowers because she deserves them  
If I'm watching sports she's right beside me  
And about the only place I can talk her into going is the beach  
And you want me to complain?  
Not a chance  
And why?  
Because she treats me right  
Men only complain about women cause they're full of shit  
So buck it up, Buttercup, and be a man
poet Anonymous

work In progress

sweat drips
like piss
flowing from that concrete  
statue  
no one knows  
what it's called;  
but it happens to fill  
as a water feature  
anywhere  
a guy  
with an idea and  
a bucket of grout  
to fill the cracks in the  
tiles  
finds a nine by nine space  
in a park  
 
that musky smell from  
work boots  
having spent a day  
laboring  
in a cold steel factory  
which exists  
because  
damn, we have to make something  
-anything  
no one actually gives a shit  
what it is  
as long as it is made  
 
oil and grease  
cologne the body like the  
black  
the black  
that is ingrown  
in the  
rough  
callused skin  
we wear  
as a permanent raincoat;  
along with the residue  
of the V6 head gasket  
stripped across the bedroom  
floor  
like the  
Ducati  
modeled on the kitchen  
counter  
 
really  
don't have time for tea  
but a hat tip  
and "gooday gorgeous"  
-well that you can have  
for free  
 
 
 
 
 
poet Anonymous

This Is A Man’s world (Remastered)

poet Anonymous

Stripping puppet

Thinner than our threads that used to fit,
we make up so you can leave again,
taxi into town a burned out clown,
tumble till the neon shuts you down.

Restless hands beat rhythms on my chair,
pretending to myself that you still care.
I can only walk the worn out floor,
a dog that waits behind a nightclub door.

Taking turns to spin you on your stool,
playthings pass the parcel as you drool,
stretching alter neck goes out of shape,
grace is sipped away without a trace.

Morning milk clinks early in the street,
guilt has ploughed a furrow for your feet,
clatter bangs the door with no surprise,
another night of chewed and swallowed pride.
poet Anonymous

...and when a man cries

  
in the corner of his  
highs
   
no one could see  
no one would see  
no one should see  
   
and when a man cries  
behind the veil  
of his highs  
   
he has done all  
he could've done  
he would've done  
he should've done  
   
to avoid    
the void  
   
and    
when a man cries  
under clear blue skies  
it rains  
no  
not a flood  
just a pair of droplets  
on a couple of specks of dirt  
leaving them moist  
yet as barren    
as before  
   
and when a man cries  
with open dry eyes  
his widest of grins  
are his    
whitest of lies  
   
do not ask what happens  
when?  
a man cries  
   
it is only after  
"the man"  
in him    
dies  
.  
   
   
it happens  
without a sigh  
because  
when a man cries  
he does so  
behind the visible highs  
   
   
and when a man cries....
Go to page:
Go to: