My babies is sweet sweeter than cinnamon buns dripping with cream cheese My babies sweet like chocolate cake and warm apple pie straight from the oven My babies sweet too bad sweeter than a tray of momma's candy yams sweeter than grandma's cherry pie My babies sweet like brown sugar, piled in heaps
Dear old grandpa was like a diabetic at the Candy Store. His greedy palms strolled down aisles of sugar, surreptitiously enjoying chocolate bonbons, thick Laffy Taffys tightly wrapped in cellophane, voluptuous gummy bears, so scantily dressed (Though naked they will be undressed).
“Two dimes and a nickel,” cried the swinging peppermint canes while Dirty Red did a stripper spin down its stiff length, “Two dimes and a nickel.”
He liked to lament his frailty: raining curses on arthritis, that slick Casanova who left behind a hastily scratched note on his...
I am the answer to your call: Low whispers, moaning in the depths of night’s black belly!
Though you beg like the suckling babe, I will cure you, lunatic! I will count you among the multitude, dragged back to the shores of sanity. Though your soft flesh is burned in fire, and scorched by crimson coals. Though you scream out at the bite of my lash.
I will cure you, lunatic!
I will sear this cancerous growth from the meat of your heart! I will draw forth this poisonous fluid from the...
Late is the hour of your coming, O Physician of the Fever-Struck! Here we lay, ailing, Love-Pricked; Our weary souls pining for thy physic O wasting flesh! O sunken eyes! O laboured breath! Hear our wretched cough, rasping air dragged through tortured limbs! Woe to the head, thrashed by a thousand brass heeled shoes!
Late is the hour of your coming, O Physician of the Fever-Struck! Here we lay, ailing, Love-Pricked; Our weary souls pining for thy physic
On dark days when the light dies at birth and the sullen clouds reverently kiss the earth when the mad rain dances to thunder’s growl as the trees moan, and the wild winds howl ‘dear heart! here, I abide!’ is my swift reply when the soft bed cries, ‘sweet love, stay by my side!’
O, Wretched One Odious Befouler of the Sacred You, Murderer of the Sun Ravager of Dawn’s Fresh Blush Gluttonous Devourer of Souls and Flesh Heavy-footed Masher of the Blue Jay's Nest Twister and Warper of Heart and Mind By your foul caress The rose withers Pure gardens turn to weed Before your foul gaze Shyness is slowly stripped Naked in layers of cloth, we shiver A thousand baths with a thousand oceans ...
On the banks of a clear river, a bakery crouched in a cloak of cinnamon swirls and sugar hills. Drenched in gooey aromas, most decadent, it beckoned seductively, raising its addictive siren call on the racing winds. It broke the backs of firm resolutions and melted will solid and unbendable as steel. On its moist banks, where the emerald reeds mingle with the chocolate clay and the blue liquid licks them, here the diabetic, dead from his decadent overdose, floats facedown with glazed eyes and postcoital smile, cream congealed at the corners of his lips.