Poetry Corner

[Rikk]

Ah yes, Rothtards and Sheep,

This is the place where you come and present some good, solid American or International poetry to the Rotharmy crowd. No ratings, no jeers. Just some good poetry and conversation...


Lemme grab you all a coffee, kool kats...



Somebody turn on some John Coltrane on the jukebox...



And let's hear ye poetry...

Who's up first?

[Shaun Ponsonby]

Ha ha!!

Is this my fault?

Alright


ODE TO FILTHIA

Oh, Filthia, I love her so
She sends me round in ditties
By day, we walk in the park
At night, I love to roam around her huge country estate

(I was stuck for a rhyme, there)

[Guitar Shark]

Poetry is gay.

[Angel]

I wait for the police to come to my door
To tell me my child doesn't live any more.
And I sit here, full of shame...
Knowing that somehow I must be to blame.

For I couldn't give him his weight in gold,
and now I'm left here, out in the cold.
For the life that he leads has only one end
And as my heart bleeds, this message I send:

Hold tight to your children
They're so very dear
And the gangs that will steal them
Are so very near

They'll promises them riches
And money to burn
And as they draw them in deeper,
For your child's hug, you will yearn.

Our world has become so materialistic,
In the gang scene, it's almost ballistic.
Clothes and fast cars, a nice watch on their wrist
Some of our teens, they think this is bliss.

You can't send the cops to break down their door,
Because if you do, they'll even the score.
All you can do is sit, hope and pray
That your child will return by the end of the day.

And as you wake on the morrow
Your heart fills with sorrow
And your bones shake with dread.
Please don't knock on my door....

and tell me.....


He's Dead.

[vanzilla]

Where's Andrew Dice Clay when you need him?

[pete]

Midsummer moonbeam stuck to her skin
Barely a memory in the state I was in
I called at three and you called the law
Could've caught a clue, but the lights were off
I slid a swerve when my soul was in need
You had the words, but I never could read
All the futility in all of my charms
and your arms
I'll drink to that

Saw the sun bleed from the earth
Ran for cover deep in the dirt
You think I'm easy, well where do you get your facts
All the love and the hate and the sinful acts
There is something beautiful deep in this darkness
When all of the light seems factory line
They give you the keys all check or cash
and romance
I'll drink to that

[Rikk]

Panther, panther.
Resident dancer.
Grassy-eyed, mystified resonant panzer.
Some friends and me went and bought some beer,
and we went on a safari.
The first friend walked too far in the grass,
we all yelled "Volare"...

but it was too late.

The panther sealed his fate.

Kitty left him in quite a state.



Who says he's greatest of all the panthers?...

[Ally_Kat]

God of Fire

I am a hung-over, sick mountain,
Acne upon the land.
I am paradise’s Mr. Hyde,
And fireworks at night.
I am the planet’s turkey baster,
A thermometer within the Earth.
I can consume all that I see,
And preserve it throughout time.

[Ally_Kat]

(and remember that I'm not right in the head)

the moose

My moose is loose.
Oh, the abuse!
Poor sweet Bruce,
The moose who liked to use
And create grape juice.

Oh my moose!
With that silly goose –
The goose that is obtuse.
How that goose would misuse
Bruce’s fermented juice.

The goose had a short fuse
And would let loose
Allowing emotions to overproduce
And restraint to reduce –
All effects of substance abuse.

But Bruce so loved the goose.
A love so profuse.
A love so abstruse.
And the goose did seduce,
But only for love of grape juice.

The couple became recluse
Inhabiting a caboose
With actions to reproduce
While watching Footloose.
This did not please the moose.

Bruce found people to introduce
And encouraged the goose
To go out and schmooze,
Trying to disabuse
This sentiment of recluse.

The goose would refuse
And threatened to vamoose.
Bruce offered a truce,
His feelings he did excuse,
But the goose yelled, “grape juice!”

This response had Bruce
Deduce that this goose
Did not love this moose
But rather the grape juice
That this moose would produce.


The moose started to refuse
Any request to produce
That sweet grape juice,
Even when the goose
Would try to seduce Bruce.

The goose began to abuse
So the moose would produce
That fermented addictive juice,
But it was of no use.
Bruce still would refuse.

So now the moose,
A victim of domestic abuse,
Did leave that goose
And the smelly caboose,
But took the copy of Footloose.

No worries about the moose.
Bruce met a mongoose
Who did not like grape juice,
But rather liked to schmooze
And to reproduce while watching Footloose.

[Northern Girl]

Okay, I've been hesitating, but WTF...

WARNING: FOR ADULTS ONLY !!






your flicking tongue lights my fire
your skills surpass all I desire
sensations running head to toe
my sweet juice begins to flow
touch me, taste me, as you please
my swollen pearl is yours to tease
you can sense just what I need
my climax building as you feed
ecstasy comes with rapid pace
my wetness dripping down your face

dripping with juice, throbbing with lust
another taste of you is a must
you feel so hard in my grip
I touch my tongue to your tip
to take it all, I open wide
in and out, I let it slide
anticipation at its peak
our final pleasure now we seek

I straddle you to take a wild ride
your pulsing thrusts push deep inside
you feel so good as in a dream
driving hard and deep until I scream
your throbbing’s intense, I feel inside
the bittersweet end of the ride
I quake again as you release
my crashing waves do not cease
you fill me with your streaming jet
here at last, our climax met

[MAX]

Originally posted by Guitar Shark
Poetry is gay.

LOL!!!

[Nickdfresh]

The Trusted

I trust too easily,
I feel your warmth and I caress mysteries.
I give too freely and seek too readily.
Can this cauldron of life be truth or illusion,
Mere mortals imbued with lust,
Should I trust?
The gods laughing,
We but their play things.
Confused and tarnished with sweltering life,
It cuts through and seres, Molten branding of my eyes.
I trusted.
I smell life around me,
I think there must be something more.
I feel her simmering beneath me,
I feel her slipping away.
I fell her near me and she is yet a thousand miles away.
I no longer believe
But I still feel her thighs as sure as I feel the night.

[Nickdfresh]

National Poetry Month Raises Awareness Of
Poetry Prevention

NEW YORK—This month marks the 10th National Poetry Month, a campaign created in 1996 to raise public awareness of the growing problem of poetry. "We must stop this scourge before more lives are exposed to poetry," said Dr. John Nieman of the American Poetry Prevention Society at a Monday fundraising luncheon. "It doesn't just affect women. Young people, particularly morose high-school and college students, are very susceptible to this terrible affliction. It is imperative that we eradicate poetry now, before more rainy afternoons are lost to it." Nieman said some early signs of poetry infection include increased self-absorption and tea consumption.

Linky

[Rikk]

Originally posted by MAX
LOL!!!

Who are you again?

[Nickdfresh]

Well!
She treat me like a personal Jesus
Got the hand...put it where its gonna heal ya
Got the finger...put it right there on the trigger
Well, pump it up, pump it up
Baby make it bigger

Well... Im Going crazy
Pumping it up, pumping it up
(ewww ohhh ya)
It's gonna heal ya

She put the cream in my coffee (first thing in the morning)
Put that butter on my biscuit (honeydew my melons)
Cherries on bananas (gonna need a second helpin')
You know I'm up for breakfast so early in the morning

Lock the front ...Leave the back door open
Hot tub loosen up ...baby been soaking
Been tokin'...been sippin'
Slip slide slippin ... all got me tripping

Well... Im Going crazy
Keeping it up... pumping it up, pumping it up
Aint gonna kill ya

She put the cream in my coffee (first thing in the morning)
Spread that butter on my biscuit (honeydew my melon)
Put berries on bananas (I need a second helping)
That's why I'm up for breakfast so early in the morning

Wake me up babe
Hold me up... Gotta get up

[GUITAR SOLO]

She put the cream in my coffee (first thing in the morning)
Spread hot butter on my biscuit (honeydew my melon)
Like them cherries on bananas (gonna need a second helping)
Thats why I'm up for breakfast so early in the morning

Got bacon on the table (first thing in the morning)
Squeeze some honey on my biscuit (honeydew my melon)
Spread some cream on my bananas (I need a second helping)
You know I'm up for breakfast so early in the mornin'

Wake me up
Lift me up
Gotta get up
Hot coffee first thing in the morning
Hot sweet sticky
Get it up, get it up, get it up

Gotta get up