Poetry competition CLOSED 25th October 2013 5:52pm
WINNER
Smoogej1s (Taylor)
Smoogej1s (Taylor)
Your best Halloween poem!
No matter how tantalizing one
life was plenty 2 would be un-
fair and rather sick...
Most would never say this but
if only they knew what I knew.
They would embrace the dark and
blissful arms of sweet Oblivion.
Than to return to yet another go
around a new.
Life is imperfect it will always be
flawed. To re-create a World to
cater to the abundance. Of only one
in perfect servitude. Would be beyond
the extent of reality. Making the gears
of the very universe taper to a
whimpering crawl.
So again I await the dark peaceful
Oblivion if I hopefully have earned it.
Till then a second life if offered you
may ask who knows???? But just might re
Anonymous
FISHBALLS FOR HALLOWEEN
I am sick and tired of sugary sweets
Being handed out for trick or treat
So it behooves me to prepare
Large amount of brain food where
Laced with vitamins and minerals
So the childen will grow and thrive
Poverty can buy crummy food
Only the rich can afford good fish
I will take carp, pike, mullet and whitefish
Mix it all together in a dish
Add eggs and breadcrumbs to congeal
Cooking it for three hours means
It will last a week to feed all needs
This is a good luck meal
For fish are immune to the "Evil Eye"
I have them sealed in small containers
Will dress up as the good wich Endorala
Hand them out at the door
Have a Happy Halloween
You want more Gefilte fish....
Come back for more!
PLEASE NO WIN FOR ME....I JUST WROTE IT FOR FUN!!!!!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gefilte_fish
Due to the general poverty of the Jewish population in Europe, the 'economic' recipe for the above also may have included extra ground and soaked matza meal or bread crumbs creating many more "spare" fish balls. This form of preparation eliminated the need for picking out fish bones at the table, and "stretched" the fish further, so that even poor, but often large, families could enjoy fish on Shabbat. Not only is picking bones religiously prohibited on the Sabbath, but many of the commonly used fish such as carp are exceptionally bony and difficult to eat easily in whole form.
The Sad Pumpkin
darkness falls upon the pumpkin patch
a light fog rolls in...
dropping a mist upon the ground
in the corner entangled in its own vines
the sad pumpkin sits alone
the leaves upon its stems droop...
from the weight of the mist
unable to break free from its own entanglement
it sits...
trapped
and covered up
the night passes by paying no attention
through the fog the dim shimmer of stars
the moon awash in a sea of grey
life moves forward paying no mind
as the sad pumpkin sits,
wallowing
in its own predicament
the ground grows cold,
saturated by the mist
the fog grows more dense
a flash of color,
brightly orange
quickly engrossed by a mist of grey
through the fog
the sad pumpkin can see
the other pumpkins gathering
basking in the brisk moist air
paying no mind to the dense fog
the brilliance
of their bright colors
striking orange...
the deep green
of their stems and leaves
pale to what its own colors use to be
now which only seem
watered down
and dingy
the greens have turned
a lighter shade of brown
the brilliant orange
now cast in shades of yellow
worn spots show through the skin
revealing darker shades within
alone the sad pumpkin sits
engrossed
and entangled
wallowing
its vines constricting
held prisoner by its own self
looking through the mist
and beyond the fog
past its own tangle vines
and wilted leaves
hoping that a brighter day will come
perhaps
with the morning light
Drowning Ghost
The Curse was born in darkness.
drowning in a sea of emotion.
stretching and reaching round thy brain,
thoughts have over taken, so i go insane.
clasping uncertainty mesmerized by fears,
demons of the night take souls and tears.
Aware of the bottomless ocean below,
Frightened by the improbability of it all.
trapped in this mirror...of this drowning sea.
Each direction takes a pull at thy limbs.
screaming and chocking on emotional box.
Faint, faint, there is dark in its eyes,
screeching howls from numerous cries.
Giving our eyes,a floating world,
creating the many arms and legs of evil.
this cures darkens my spirit each day.
encased in the fetor of a hessian tomb.
slinking into tired,tissue-thin walls.
Faint, faint words scrambled in my head,
its to late know, your limbs are dead.
thy beautiful corps drown in a tunnel,
so thy lay in brittle walls..
thee equation boast humanity,
struggling as time picked up speed.
Faint, faint, my mind will lead,
tiring nots her limbs will bleed.
Faint, faint, my voice will cry
as her body palled and dry.
-Kumiko Yamamoto
The Curse was born in darkness.
drowning in a sea of emotion.
stretching and reaching round thy brain,
thoughts have over taken, so i go insane.
clasping uncertainty mesmerized by fears,
demons of the night take souls and tears.
Aware of the bottomless ocean below,
Frightened by the improbability of it all.
trapped in this mirror...of this drowning sea.
Each direction takes a pull at thy limbs.
screaming and chocking on emotional box.
Faint, faint, there is dark in its eyes,
screeching howls from numerous cries.
Giving our eyes,a floating world,
creating the many arms and legs of evil.
this cures darkens my spirit each day.
encased in the fetor of a hessian tomb.
slinking into tired,tissue-thin walls.
Faint, faint words scrambled in my head,
its to late know, your limbs are dead.
thy beautiful corps drown in a tunnel,
so thy lay in brittle walls..
thee equation boast humanity,
struggling as time picked up speed.
Faint, faint, my mind will lead,
tiring nots her limbs will bleed.
Faint, faint, my voice will cry
as her body palled and dry.
-Kumiko Yamamoto
untitles life : hitorini shinaide
brutal behavior brought her sadness,
loneliness and eternal tears.
she cried of abandonment and fear.
sitting apone the cold fild..
seeing nothing but dark sky and
dusk of wind...
imagining life as a trapped bird
only to be released form the grip of evils hands.
to be scared of herself and what life may throw at her..
she cries.
"ikanaide!!!!"
shouts her soul
clinging onto her hair and scratching at her arms..
thinking of nights she would close her eyes,
wanting to spread her wings and fly away.
to tell herself to not exist.
like open roads and widened concepts of honesty.
"ikanaide!!!!!"
"hitorini shinaide!!!!!"
immobilized by the image she sees
taking of spirit in dancing trees.
take control of deadly fear
edge of life, death is near
whype your eyes, its will be over soon
and life will no longer see her
weep.
"carry me" shes speaks beyond heavenly god
feeling the pressure boil her out
exhausted she felt,
her knees grew weak,
one last step and she will fall
-kumiko Yamamoto
note- ikanaide-please don't go
hitorini shinaide - please don't leave me
brutal behavior brought her sadness,
loneliness and eternal tears.
she cried of abandonment and fear.
sitting apone the cold fild..
seeing nothing but dark sky and
dusk of wind...
imagining life as a trapped bird
only to be released form the grip of evils hands.
to be scared of herself and what life may throw at her..
she cries.
"ikanaide!!!!"
shouts her soul
clinging onto her hair and scratching at her arms..
thinking of nights she would close her eyes,
wanting to spread her wings and fly away.
to tell herself to not exist.
like open roads and widened concepts of honesty.
"ikanaide!!!!!"
"hitorini shinaide!!!!!"
immobilized by the image she sees
taking of spirit in dancing trees.
take control of deadly fear
edge of life, death is near
whype your eyes, its will be over soon
and life will no longer see her
weep.
"carry me" shes speaks beyond heavenly god
feeling the pressure boil her out
exhausted she felt,
her knees grew weak,
one last step and she will fall
-kumiko Yamamoto
note- ikanaide-please don't go
hitorini shinaide - please don't leave me
Trick or Treat
Norman Bates' mother
Slammed down the thirteenth
Kamikaze of the night
At the K of C rental hall
Before tripping on slurred words,
Dizzy feet and the ragged hem
Of a polka dot house dress.
Falling into the cobra
Tattooed and burly arms
Of a bald, barrel gut guy
In a white wife beater
Wearing a tiara and tutu,
A frizzy red beard
Down to his Adam's apple.
They wrapped friendly
Arms around each other
Messing up the words
And singing off key
To a teenage band
Regressing thru sloppy
Chord progressions
In the “Monster Mash.”
The gruesome twosome
Weaving back and forth
All night
Out the door
Down a dark
Weedy and gravel path
To a forsaken field
Where a lone trailer covered
With shaving cream,
Silly string and toilet paper
Parked sadly in the gloom.
The crisp air before dawn
Cut by the far off howling
Of coyotes, screeching owls
And the white noise
Of black crickets.
The hum in the deep
Void of the night
Like a saw mill on the river
Styx stripping dreams of hope.
Leaving a blindness
Like a soul without conscience.
Not a man, woman or child
Around to witness the blood
Curdling screaming
Of two barely dressed men,
Hung over and horny,
Staring in horror
At a male nakedness
Not seen since the days
Of high school showers
After gym class
In steamy locker rooms
Bubbling over
With curiosity, paranoia,
Insolence and anxiety.
Members of a club
Neither wanted to join.
Racing to the refrigerator
For Budweisers and downing
As many as necessary
To up the ante of alcohol
To purge reticent memories
Of hijinks from the night before
Till they don't give a shit
Anymore and spend
The rest of the day
Feeding each other candy
Corn and spooning
Like butternut squash
In a twin size patch of a bed.
Norman Bates' mother
Slammed down the thirteenth
Kamikaze of the night
At the K of C rental hall
Before tripping on slurred words,
Dizzy feet and the ragged hem
Of a polka dot house dress.
Falling into the cobra
Tattooed and burly arms
Of a bald, barrel gut guy
In a white wife beater
Wearing a tiara and tutu,
A frizzy red beard
Down to his Adam's apple.
They wrapped friendly
Arms around each other
Messing up the words
And singing off key
To a teenage band
Regressing thru sloppy
Chord progressions
In the “Monster Mash.”
The gruesome twosome
Weaving back and forth
All night
Out the door
Down a dark
Weedy and gravel path
To a forsaken field
Where a lone trailer covered
With shaving cream,
Silly string and toilet paper
Parked sadly in the gloom.
The crisp air before dawn
Cut by the far off howling
Of coyotes, screeching owls
And the white noise
Of black crickets.
The hum in the deep
Void of the night
Like a saw mill on the river
Styx stripping dreams of hope.
Leaving a blindness
Like a soul without conscience.
Not a man, woman or child
Around to witness the blood
Curdling screaming
Of two barely dressed men,
Hung over and horny,
Staring in horror
At a male nakedness
Not seen since the days
Of high school showers
After gym class
In steamy locker rooms
Bubbling over
With curiosity, paranoia,
Insolence and anxiety.
Members of a club
Neither wanted to join.
Racing to the refrigerator
For Budweisers and downing
As many as necessary
To up the ante of alcohol
To purge reticent memories
Of hijinks from the night before
Till they don't give a shit
Anymore and spend
The rest of the day
Feeding each other candy
Corn and spooning
Like butternut squash
In a twin size patch of a bed.
"Halloween Knight"
This Halloween I fear the coming of your light
By day I am filled with a darkness black as night
His shadow clouds my eyes to see your face no more
For I'll never be your Knight in shining armor
When all the Saints arrived my demons lurked within
With their number marching, did Valentine sneak in?
Is he a myth like the archer angel Cupid?
Tempting Amour, how could I have been so stupid?
For this Queen, the battle was never mine to fight
Like the Quasi fool, I'm dubbed All Hallows Eve Knight
Seeking sweetness behind each good door where I knock
Only to be handed grief as hard as a rock
You celebrate the anniversary of life
While a wish is made to bring me a deadly knife
Carving the pumpkin and removing all its seeds
Unlike Jack's hollowed head, my empty heart still bleeds
JJ
Poetryman
This Halloween I fear the coming of your light
By day I am filled with a darkness black as night
His shadow clouds my eyes to see your face no more
For I'll never be your Knight in shining armor
When all the Saints arrived my demons lurked within
With their number marching, did Valentine sneak in?
Is he a myth like the archer angel Cupid?
Tempting Amour, how could I have been so stupid?
For this Queen, the battle was never mine to fight
Like the Quasi fool, I'm dubbed All Hallows Eve Knight
Seeking sweetness behind each good door where I knock
Only to be handed grief as hard as a rock
You celebrate the anniversary of life
While a wish is made to bring me a deadly knife
Carving the pumpkin and removing all its seeds
Unlike Jack's hollowed head, my empty heart still bleeds
JJ
Poetryman
Anonymous
Dressed Down as You
This Halloween, I'd like to dress as you
mimic how you act, do as you do
I'll wear a fake smile, like it covers something else
when anyone passes, I'll lift my nose
and turn my head
like I'm just too brilliant to exchange a wasted glance
on the dim witted peasants sharing my golden path
from the imaginary cloud that tells me I'm alright
to the pedestal I reign from
I'll be you this time
I'll walk around the night
the only one who has a throne
with the jewels in my crown sparkling
the star in my own show
I'll say "trick or treat" like there's really any choice
and in every answer, I'll hear only my voice
the trick is the absence of there being a treat
and thank the night of spirits
I can go back home being me
This Halloween, I'd like to dress as you
mimic how you act, do as you do
I'll wear a fake smile, like it covers something else
when anyone passes, I'll lift my nose
and turn my head
like I'm just too brilliant to exchange a wasted glance
on the dim witted peasants sharing my golden path
from the imaginary cloud that tells me I'm alright
to the pedestal I reign from
I'll be you this time
I'll walk around the night
the only one who has a throne
with the jewels in my crown sparkling
the star in my own show
I'll say "trick or treat" like there's really any choice
and in every answer, I'll hear only my voice
the trick is the absence of there being a treat
and thank the night of spirits
I can go back home being me
She was a witch, here is part two of the story - - -
OK, now, it is approaching a year later
Autumn equinox, if it matters
Strange as it seems, I had forgotten
All of it
Every bit of it
But now
Day by day
Bit by bit
it was coming back
Anyway, most if it
First thing I remembered, was her email last October 1st.
Asking me - - -
Would I?
Could I?
Maybe?
Join her for a "little" celebration/ceremony on the 31st?
I remembered the meadow
Candles
Blood red wine
Star shaped white silk cloth spread on the ground
Knives
Wine sipping
Ceremonial stripping
Shivering
Dizziness
Her erect nipples
Caressing
My erectness
Wetness running down her legs
Tinted with her blood
Lighting the candles
Lying down in the pentagram
Her body splayed to the pentagram's points
Entering her
Lying motionless
Waiting for an unseen clock to begin to strike
Thrusting to the strikes of that clock
Or, rather, I remembered the first thrust
And, then awakening in my bed back home a thousand miles north of her
Those were my memories, such as they were
And then, on this October 1st
An email appeared
Short
Five words
A command
Be here
On the 31st
No opening greeting
No closing note
Just those five words
As I write this
I am on the plane
To Austin
It is, of course
The 31st
Those five words were a command that controlled me to my very core
I, quite literally, could not, not be on that plane to Austin
A car pulled up in front of me at Passenger Pick-Up
The door swing open
A voice --deeper and richer than I remembered
said, "Get in"
As she drove in silence, I stared. I barely recognized her
Longer hair, red so dark it was nearly black, hid most of her face
Breasts, my god, I am certain I would have remembered those
Pearl white skin that nearly glowed
Cleavage that showed the edge of her nipples
Her dress, also a deep, dark, almost black shade of red
Flowed and hugged her body as if it were a layer of skin
Her arms were covered with lace sleeves down to her fingers
Her nails were polished that same shade of red/black
The dress was slit up to above her waist
A tunic held with a silver chain just under her breasts
And, yet, the fabric stayed close to her body
Except, that as she drove, her movements
Bared her leg
As if the fabric willed it so
Showing, the tunic was all she wore
Pearl white glowing skin and a glimpse of red/black hair
And, an erection
A painful one at that
Pain in my balls
The ride may have been long or maybe it was short
I can't really say
We arrived at a familiar meadow surrounded by trees
In the full moon light, I could see that
In its center was already spread a white silk star shaped cloth
I glanced at her
That deeper, richer voice said
"It is still here
From last year
Waiting for us
To finish
what we started
a year ago"
So, the cloth was last year's cloth
still spread
and waiting for us
To finish what?
She added
"Your flight was late
It's almost time
Get ready
Quickly"
I stood frozen
Her red/black tunic flowed off of her
without any effort on her part
and pooled at her feet
She looked at me
And screamed
"Now!"
I slowly reached to unbutton my shirt
She ripped it off of me
My t-shirt too
I don't remember removing
or her removed my
shoes
socks
pants
or briefs
But the shredded pile made it clear
How quickly it had happened
Both of us naked
Her nipples erect
My penis painfully so
She was already wet
I could see droplets glistening in her hair
Dampening the inside of her thighs
"Lay down
On your back
Spread to the pentagram
Like I was last year
This time, I'm on top
Hurry
Please hurry"
I looked at the cloth
Knives at the points of the star
Candles burning at the joints of the star --points of the pentagram
Who lit them?
She shoved me on to the cloth and down to my knees
"On your back
Now
Please"
Tears were in her eyes
I rolled over and spread myself out
Open, exposed to her
Penis pointed to the sky
She knelt between my legs
Bent over
Touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of my penis
And slid her mouth down so that all of me was in her mouth
Deep enough that some of me was down her throat
As much of hurry as she seemed to be in
She took her time with moving me in and out of her mouth
Down her throat
Once
Twice
Thrice
Until I was squirming
And the strokes reached
Thirteen
As she pulled back from that thirteen stroke
She leaned forward
Her hands reached toward my chest
Simultaneously
Using the nails of her left hand on my right nipple
Her right thumb and forefinger on my left nipple
She pinched, pulled, twisted, and lifted
Pain caused me to gasp
And buck my hips forcefully upward
She had positioned herself perfectly
The force of my upward movement
Driving my dick so deadly into her cunt that the slamming pain
Of our pubic bones coming together
Caused us to jerk nearly apart
The clock struck one
Nearly apart, but not completely
Her mouth smashed against mine
Her hands left my nipples
She was flat, splayed against me
As the clock struck a second time
So two did our pubic bones
Although the pain this second time
Matched the first
It had a kind of ---
"I want more"
Obscene sexual pleasure to it
With each of ten more strokes
Of the clock
And, of course
Of my dick in her pussy
That obscene pleasure grew
With it
Grew a low sort of growl
First in her throat
Then in mine
Deeper than hers
More lustfully, loathsomely, raunchy
Decidedly more male than hers could ever be
Our mouths still locked
Our tongues raw from each other's teeth
Our fingers nearly crushed
With the force of their interlocking grip
Our legs twisted and twined around each other
And our pelvis bones bruised from battering
Driving
Crushing
Mashing
Against each other
While my cock squished
Drove
Slammed
Smashed
In and out
Of her cunt
Beating on each stroke against her cervix
With what must have been excruciating pain for her
It certainly wasn't love
It wasn't even sex, exactly
The clock counted off
We keep perfect time
It was number twelve we were frantically
Frenziedly
Violently
Approaching
The clock struck twelve
Our bodies released
Her cunt contracted so tightly
I cried in pain
My cock delivered so forcefully
She gasped at the flood
Her contractions, milked me of everything my body had to give
My discharge seemed to have filled her
So that as my penis relaxed inside of her
A large wet spot grew beneath me on the cloth
A spot tinted pink with the blood of the violence done to our
Pelvises
Genitals
A seeming moment later
I awoke in my bed a thousand miles north of Austin
This time
I remembered
As I got out of bed
Glanced at the mirror
I noticed
A deep red/black bruise showed through my dried cum matted pubic hair
My dick, still red and swollen from its recent violent use
Swollen nipples with red, bloody nail marks
And pearl white skin
On the floor
Curling about my feet
A pooled red/black cloth
Seemed to be climbing my legs
I also noticed
On my swollen lips
A smile
All this seen through eyes
Whose pupils were more cat shaped than round
OK, now, it is approaching a year later
Autumn equinox, if it matters
Strange as it seems, I had forgotten
All of it
Every bit of it
But now
Day by day
Bit by bit
it was coming back
Anyway, most if it
First thing I remembered, was her email last October 1st.
Asking me - - -
Would I?
Could I?
Maybe?
Join her for a "little" celebration/ceremony on the 31st?
I remembered the meadow
Candles
Blood red wine
Star shaped white silk cloth spread on the ground
Knives
Wine sipping
Ceremonial stripping
Shivering
Dizziness
Her erect nipples
Caressing
My erectness
Wetness running down her legs
Tinted with her blood
Lighting the candles
Lying down in the pentagram
Her body splayed to the pentagram's points
Entering her
Lying motionless
Waiting for an unseen clock to begin to strike
Thrusting to the strikes of that clock
Or, rather, I remembered the first thrust
And, then awakening in my bed back home a thousand miles north of her
Those were my memories, such as they were
And then, on this October 1st
An email appeared
Short
Five words
A command
Be here
On the 31st
No opening greeting
No closing note
Just those five words
As I write this
I am on the plane
To Austin
It is, of course
The 31st
Those five words were a command that controlled me to my very core
I, quite literally, could not, not be on that plane to Austin
A car pulled up in front of me at Passenger Pick-Up
The door swing open
A voice --deeper and richer than I remembered
said, "Get in"
As she drove in silence, I stared. I barely recognized her
Longer hair, red so dark it was nearly black, hid most of her face
Breasts, my god, I am certain I would have remembered those
Pearl white skin that nearly glowed
Cleavage that showed the edge of her nipples
Her dress, also a deep, dark, almost black shade of red
Flowed and hugged her body as if it were a layer of skin
Her arms were covered with lace sleeves down to her fingers
Her nails were polished that same shade of red/black
The dress was slit up to above her waist
A tunic held with a silver chain just under her breasts
And, yet, the fabric stayed close to her body
Except, that as she drove, her movements
Bared her leg
As if the fabric willed it so
Showing, the tunic was all she wore
Pearl white glowing skin and a glimpse of red/black hair
And, an erection
A painful one at that
Pain in my balls
The ride may have been long or maybe it was short
I can't really say
We arrived at a familiar meadow surrounded by trees
In the full moon light, I could see that
In its center was already spread a white silk star shaped cloth
I glanced at her
That deeper, richer voice said
"It is still here
From last year
Waiting for us
To finish
what we started
a year ago"
So, the cloth was last year's cloth
still spread
and waiting for us
To finish what?
She added
"Your flight was late
It's almost time
Get ready
Quickly"
I stood frozen
Her red/black tunic flowed off of her
without any effort on her part
and pooled at her feet
She looked at me
And screamed
"Now!"
I slowly reached to unbutton my shirt
She ripped it off of me
My t-shirt too
I don't remember removing
or her removed my
shoes
socks
pants
or briefs
But the shredded pile made it clear
How quickly it had happened
Both of us naked
Her nipples erect
My penis painfully so
She was already wet
I could see droplets glistening in her hair
Dampening the inside of her thighs
"Lay down
On your back
Spread to the pentagram
Like I was last year
This time, I'm on top
Hurry
Please hurry"
I looked at the cloth
Knives at the points of the star
Candles burning at the joints of the star --points of the pentagram
Who lit them?
She shoved me on to the cloth and down to my knees
"On your back
Now
Please"
Tears were in her eyes
I rolled over and spread myself out
Open, exposed to her
Penis pointed to the sky
She knelt between my legs
Bent over
Touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of my penis
And slid her mouth down so that all of me was in her mouth
Deep enough that some of me was down her throat
As much of hurry as she seemed to be in
She took her time with moving me in and out of her mouth
Down her throat
Once
Twice
Thrice
Until I was squirming
And the strokes reached
Thirteen
As she pulled back from that thirteen stroke
She leaned forward
Her hands reached toward my chest
Simultaneously
Using the nails of her left hand on my right nipple
Her right thumb and forefinger on my left nipple
She pinched, pulled, twisted, and lifted
Pain caused me to gasp
And buck my hips forcefully upward
She had positioned herself perfectly
The force of my upward movement
Driving my dick so deadly into her cunt that the slamming pain
Of our pubic bones coming together
Caused us to jerk nearly apart
The clock struck one
Nearly apart, but not completely
Her mouth smashed against mine
Her hands left my nipples
She was flat, splayed against me
As the clock struck a second time
So two did our pubic bones
Although the pain this second time
Matched the first
It had a kind of ---
"I want more"
Obscene sexual pleasure to it
With each of ten more strokes
Of the clock
And, of course
Of my dick in her pussy
That obscene pleasure grew
With it
Grew a low sort of growl
First in her throat
Then in mine
Deeper than hers
More lustfully, loathsomely, raunchy
Decidedly more male than hers could ever be
Our mouths still locked
Our tongues raw from each other's teeth
Our fingers nearly crushed
With the force of their interlocking grip
Our legs twisted and twined around each other
And our pelvis bones bruised from battering
Driving
Crushing
Mashing
Against each other
While my cock squished
Drove
Slammed
Smashed
In and out
Of her cunt
Beating on each stroke against her cervix
With what must have been excruciating pain for her
It certainly wasn't love
It wasn't even sex, exactly
The clock counted off
We keep perfect time
It was number twelve we were frantically
Frenziedly
Violently
Approaching
The clock struck twelve
Our bodies released
Her cunt contracted so tightly
I cried in pain
My cock delivered so forcefully
She gasped at the flood
Her contractions, milked me of everything my body had to give
My discharge seemed to have filled her
So that as my penis relaxed inside of her
A large wet spot grew beneath me on the cloth
A spot tinted pink with the blood of the violence done to our
Pelvises
Genitals
A seeming moment later
I awoke in my bed a thousand miles north of Austin
This time
I remembered
As I got out of bed
Glanced at the mirror
I noticed
A deep red/black bruise showed through my dried cum matted pubic hair
My dick, still red and swollen from its recent violent use
Swollen nipples with red, bloody nail marks
And pearl white skin
On the floor
Curling about my feet
A pooled red/black cloth
Seemed to be climbing my legs
I also noticed
On my swollen lips
A smile
All this seen through eyes
Whose pupils were more cat shaped than round
My Ghost Lover
http://media.irishcentral.com/images/419*279/swf+Lady+in+white+ghost.jpg
Every night as I stroll in a nearby park
I always see this lady – pretty as skylark
Her hair was long, black as the night--
Shimmering silver, accentuated by moonlight
Rumor was: she’s the nymph in the forest
If you fall in love with her, she’ll take your soul
Her beauty has captured my lonely soul
I never miss my nightly stroll in the park
Especially when one full moon of a night
I heard her lovely voice, tuneful as a skylark
Her voluptuous body reflected by moonlight
Adorned the façade of the silent, dark forest
We became lovers and daily part of the forest
Never wanting to miss each other every night
Even when it’s pitch black, without moonlight
Her lovely voice would guide me from the park
Until I reach our haven—comforting my soul
Then would cease, as if resting like a skylark
What a fairytale! I was smitten by a skylark
For it was one with the nymph of the forest
Such revelation, languished my restless soul
Can’t eat nor drink every single night
Even the silhouette bathing in the moonlight
Can pleasure not the lonely sight in the park
People walking and jogging daily in the park
Took a good notice of my poor, and lonely soul
And the absence of the lovely, singing skylark
Thinking it was consumed by fire in the forest
That happened when lightning struck one night
Witnessed by not a single soul, but the moonlight
I’ve been always fascinated with the moonlight
Casting shadows that dance in the night…
Keeping everything alive within the forest
Now that the trees are gone, so is my skylark,
As I continue my daily stroll in the park
Hoping someday, it reunites with my waiting soul
Restless souls we are, dancing under the moonlight
A lovely apparition in the nude, but brightly-lit forest
Turned out my lover was that lady, raped and killed in the park!
http://media.irishcentral.com/images/419*279/swf+Lady+in+white+ghost.jpg
Every night as I stroll in a nearby park
I always see this lady – pretty as skylark
Her hair was long, black as the night--
Shimmering silver, accentuated by moonlight
Rumor was: she’s the nymph in the forest
If you fall in love with her, she’ll take your soul
Her beauty has captured my lonely soul
I never miss my nightly stroll in the park
Especially when one full moon of a night
I heard her lovely voice, tuneful as a skylark
Her voluptuous body reflected by moonlight
Adorned the façade of the silent, dark forest
We became lovers and daily part of the forest
Never wanting to miss each other every night
Even when it’s pitch black, without moonlight
Her lovely voice would guide me from the park
Until I reach our haven—comforting my soul
Then would cease, as if resting like a skylark
What a fairytale! I was smitten by a skylark
For it was one with the nymph of the forest
Such revelation, languished my restless soul
Can’t eat nor drink every single night
Even the silhouette bathing in the moonlight
Can pleasure not the lonely sight in the park
People walking and jogging daily in the park
Took a good notice of my poor, and lonely soul
And the absence of the lovely, singing skylark
Thinking it was consumed by fire in the forest
That happened when lightning struck one night
Witnessed by not a single soul, but the moonlight
I’ve been always fascinated with the moonlight
Casting shadows that dance in the night…
Keeping everything alive within the forest
Now that the trees are gone, so is my skylark,
As I continue my daily stroll in the park
Hoping someday, it reunites with my waiting soul
Restless souls we are, dancing under the moonlight
A lovely apparition in the nude, but brightly-lit forest
Turned out my lover was that lady, raped and killed in the park!
