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Poetry competition CLOSED 4th February 2023 6:42pm
WINNER
AspergerPoet56
AspergerPoet56
RUNNERS-UP:
DevilsChild
and Michael_Goodridge
Frustrated
On the Hook
I will always hold you to your promises
When you told me you would make me scratch the walls
You promised to fulfill my need
My gratification is still pending
When you told me you would make me scratch the walls
You promised to fulfill my need
My gratification is still pending
Written by Her
Go To Page
Sexual Frustration? I Wrote the Book on It!
"Worldwide, approximately one million adults annually dying of AIDS
suffer from sexual frustration."
-- Reality in the overpopulated bar with yet another
screwdriver
*
How vexing every hour I masturbate --
yet coming with myself too soon or late!
*
a dedication of Respect
for
the manifold Real Horrors on
bug planet
a revolving helios satire menippean abridged version of the book on
the moronic lack of Imagination
february, 2023 -- still deep underground
countless "revolutionaries" and "rebels" sans one
clue
suffer from sexual frustration."
-- Reality in the overpopulated bar with yet another
screwdriver
*
How vexing every hour I masturbate --
yet coming with myself too soon or late!
*
a dedication of Respect
for
the manifold Real Horrors on
bug planet
a revolving helios satire menippean abridged version of the book on
the moronic lack of Imagination
february, 2023 -- still deep underground
countless "revolutionaries" and "rebels" sans one
clue
Written by Jordan
(D.O.C.)
Go To Page
Run for few vacancies
Seventy virgins
when i get to paradise...
What if I don't arrive?
What if I get lost along the way?
And if heaven is too far away and
I give up going there?...
Seventy seems little to me
to risk
seven sticks of dynamite
around the abdomen!
seventy virgins
when i get to paradise...
Does that mean that in a short time
there are no more
virgins for my enjoyment!
Can I take
another seventy with me?
Deck what it was and
Truck what was it.
Suck what was and what was going.
Lick what will be then
Lock well what would it be.
Fuck him
who no longer fucks anyone else...
PAR
when i get to paradise...
What if I don't arrive?
What if I get lost along the way?
And if heaven is too far away and
I give up going there?...
Seventy seems little to me
to risk
seven sticks of dynamite
around the abdomen!
seventy virgins
when i get to paradise...
Does that mean that in a short time
there are no more
virgins for my enjoyment!
Can I take
another seventy with me?
Deck what it was and
Truck what was it.
Suck what was and what was going.
Lick what will be then
Lock well what would it be.
Fuck him
who no longer fucks anyone else...
PAR
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
Go To Page
Spin My Skull
She resembled a skinny mannequin perched high on a gawdy
bistro chair.
Ivory legs crossed, she sits with
black-X vinyl stickers she wears
as pasties over her absent breasts.
Worn out ideas falling out like
strands of hair that smell of scorched
apricots and fermented pears.
Spin my skull to taste your voice
you are everything that's wrong
with me.
Kiss me, as I spit pollution and cough.
Let me nurse fluid from your
flower as if death were made of
indigo fabric studded with fake
diamonds.
Drain me, leave the edges of my
bones intact for ambiance.
Inject me with your memory as I
watch you deep throat sin
Crimson ribbons wrap your narrow
waist the frayed edges catch
on burs
My courage to erase you slips away
in nocturnal silence
My frustration eternally lives
bistro chair.
Ivory legs crossed, she sits with
black-X vinyl stickers she wears
as pasties over her absent breasts.
Worn out ideas falling out like
strands of hair that smell of scorched
apricots and fermented pears.
Spin my skull to taste your voice
you are everything that's wrong
with me.
Kiss me, as I spit pollution and cough.
Let me nurse fluid from your
flower as if death were made of
indigo fabric studded with fake
diamonds.
Drain me, leave the edges of my
bones intact for ambiance.
Inject me with your memory as I
watch you deep throat sin
Crimson ribbons wrap your narrow
waist the frayed edges catch
on burs
My courage to erase you slips away
in nocturnal silence
My frustration eternally lives
Written by Whitewidow
Go To Page
