Submissions by PaleSkies
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Been writing for years. I love raw humor or dark. At times I overcook my words but that's what I do. The dark cannot hurt you unless you are drowning in emotions.
EROTIC POEM
Published
22nd Nov 2023 11:55pm
22nd Nov 2023 11:55pm
Talented Goombah
Darkly wound masseuse
my talented "goombah"
lusting the quicksand
of your hand's intimacy
touching me deep
your shadow whispers
sweet scent intoxication
dripping the sinew
as you pleasure me
with what hangs below
my talented "goombah"
my talented "goombah"
lusting the quicksand
of your hand's intimacy
touching me deep
your shadow whispers
sweet scent intoxication
dripping the sinew
as you pleasure me
with what hangs below
my talented "goombah"
#erotic
213 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Nov 2023 2:55pm
20th Nov 2023 2:55pm
Getting The Biscuits
In Cupid's secret queue of the early dawn
getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse
pimento red dark roses essence dew drops
sweet as ardor listening to silence dripping
from the fluorescence memories
dressed as ganglions under my skin
listening to silence aged of philosophy
in Cupid's secret queue of the early dawn
getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse
getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse
pimento red dark roses essence dew drops
sweet as ardor listening to silence dripping
from the fluorescence memories
dressed as ganglions under my skin
listening to silence aged of philosophy
in Cupid's secret queue of the early dawn
getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse
#frustration
#despair
#emptiness
208 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
17th Nov 2023 6:27pm
17th Nov 2023 6:27pm
Squeezing The Oleo
Where have the crickets gone
like pesos of Cisco and Poncho
the grandfather clock snores
listening to the kitchen gadgets
as Mama squeezes the oleo
with no time for the sacraments
or self-rising biscuit of Grandpa
whistling from the grave
finetuning his battle-axe
watching twilight thaw
and I can't ignore the shadow
of Mr. Potato Head laughing
filing it's long fingernails
and waxing its moustache
as Mama squeezes the oleo
like pesos of Cisco and Poncho
the grandfather clock snores
listening to the kitchen gadgets
as Mama squeezes the oleo
with no time for the sacraments
or self-rising biscuit of Grandpa
whistling from the grave
finetuning his battle-axe
watching twilight thaw
and I can't ignore the shadow
of Mr. Potato Head laughing
filing it's long fingernails
and waxing its moustache
as Mama squeezes the oleo
#dark
#memories
173 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
16th Nov 2023 11:59pm
16th Nov 2023 11:59pm
Heigh-Ho the Derry O
Dark eyes, color of coal blue
inside my insomnia's head
from a shadow on the wall,
Code Red.
From the other side of the bed,
now simply, plum dead
my widow sings, heigh-ho the derry o,
dark eyes, color of coal blue.
inside my insomnia's head
from a shadow on the wall,
Code Red.
From the other side of the bed,
now simply, plum dead
my widow sings, heigh-ho the derry o,
dark eyes, color of coal blue.
#loneliness
#dark
154 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Nov 2023 5:11pm
16th Nov 2023 5:11pm
Caretakers
How many memories, does one have left when the
pickpockets are turned loose and the silence echoes
the sounds of the Lionel trains and Mr. BoJangles?
Now worn-out shoes have come back to haunt me,
and my sister's Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
somewhere in the attic above. But the lunacy of it all
is that no one cares until the pickpocket steals their
smartphones and Big Mac...and then the caretaker
dance is their own shadow growing old.
pickpockets are turned loose and the silence echoes
the sounds of the Lionel trains and Mr. BoJangles?
Now worn-out shoes have come back to haunt me,
and my sister's Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
somewhere in the attic above. But the lunacy of it all
is that no one cares until the pickpocket steals their
smartphones and Big Mac...and then the caretaker
dance is their own shadow growing old.
#loneliness
#lies
#shadows
#memories
#hypocrisy
158 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
14th Nov 2023 4:46pm
14th Nov 2023 4:46pm
My Sweet Mama
#dark
#erotic
216 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Nov 2023 12:43pm
14th Nov 2023 12:43pm
Twilight Tongue
Warm against the twilight tongue
an intimacy in autumn's sheaves
with naked seance trembling knees
shedding haberdasher leaves
listening to echoes calling breeze
an intimacy in autumn's sheaves
with naked seance trembling knees
shedding haberdasher leaves
listening to echoes calling breeze
#nature
#philosophical
146 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
12th Nov 2023 10:44pm
12th Nov 2023 10:44pm
Her Houdini
Show me a whore with no truffles
to play steampunk as I wed
cranking my own calliope
and giving me a little head
blowing bubbles from the grave
swallowing my mayonnaise
making me her Houdini
unlocking her chastity belt
with no flowers for the grave
just cologne, cigars
dressed in dead.
to play steampunk as I wed
cranking my own calliope
and giving me a little head
blowing bubbles from the grave
swallowing my mayonnaise
making me her Houdini
unlocking her chastity belt
with no flowers for the grave
just cologne, cigars
dressed in dead.
#dark
#erotic
162 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
12th Nov 2023 2:29am
12th Nov 2023 2:29am
Sans Twilight
Sans twilight alone in the darkness
no footprints just a shadow in a cage
with a bottle of Jack in Eden's obscenity
of loneliness knocking at my door
waiting for the raven's alchemist
and quid pro quo in my head
screaming for the dew drops of dawn,
awakening, sans twilight
no footprints just a shadow in a cage
with a bottle of Jack in Eden's obscenity
of loneliness knocking at my door
waiting for the raven's alchemist
and quid pro quo in my head
screaming for the dew drops of dawn,
awakening, sans twilight
#dark
#EdgarAllanPoe
240 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
12th Nov 2023 00:54am
12th Nov 2023 00:54am
Precursor To Dreams
A precursor to dreams, dream blue dripping
frankincense, my shadow an arsonist of my
imagination's narcissistic masochist quill,
from my mamma's moustache in metaphors
of residue from the franchise of insanity
buried in compost dressed in hosiery,
and my johnny coat, light in my loafers
a precursor to dreams, dream blue.
frankincense, my shadow an arsonist of my
imagination's narcissistic masochist quill,
from my mamma's moustache in metaphors
of residue from the franchise of insanity
buried in compost dressed in hosiery,
and my johnny coat, light in my loafers
a precursor to dreams, dream blue.
#dark
#corruption
#curse
143 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
10th Nov 2023 10:13pm
10th Nov 2023 10:13pm
Scent Of The Widow - with Maeve_Edmonson
With the scent of the widow
from the perfume armoire,
cloaked in black drapes,
scarred, her arms are.
And the dawn's early coffee,
listening to it brewing,
the scent of fresh beans
from the grinder, stewing.
With a shadow of her face
as a smile gave memories.
To her eyes sweet toffee,
beautiful to ever see,
rinsed with a savoring kiss,
her perched upon my lips.
Making me her herald,
her sweet wine, I sip.
Touching her pulsing aneurysm,
bursting to a crimson red,
from the perfume...
from the perfume armoire,
cloaked in black drapes,
scarred, her arms are.
And the dawn's early coffee,
listening to it brewing,
the scent of fresh beans
from the grinder, stewing.
With a shadow of her face
as a smile gave memories.
To her eyes sweet toffee,
beautiful to ever see,
rinsed with a savoring kiss,
her perched upon my lips.
Making me her herald,
her sweet wine, I sip.
Touching her pulsing aneurysm,
bursting to a crimson red,
from the perfume...
#dark
#erotic
#collaboration
228 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Nov 2023 7:35pm
10th Nov 2023 7:35pm
No Time For Marconi
Steampunk has gone the way of the dialup,
the bandolier to keep incoming messages,
and space cadets, because angels can't fly.
But, no time for Marconi.
No more electric argyle socks or pet rocks
or a fuselage of an icebox, to self-detox
until the humors of one's phlegm dries up.
A prostitute is a neophyte, a novice of a hummer
with a barcode reader and electromagnetic lips
as her tits remain submersible.
But, no time for Marconi who invented the telegraph.
the bandolier to keep incoming messages,
and space cadets, because angels can't fly.
But, no time for Marconi.
No more electric argyle socks or pet rocks
or a fuselage of an icebox, to self-detox
until the humors of one's phlegm dries up.
A prostitute is a neophyte, a novice of a hummer
with a barcode reader and electromagnetic lips
as her tits remain submersible.
But, no time for Marconi who invented the telegraph.
#steampunk
132 reads
2 Comments
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