Your Favorite Poems from fellow Lit-Netters

[Delta40]

My balls are tucked in tight
To this season's Calvin kleins'.
In this self conscious scrotum world
This is dressed up to the nines.
They hang outside the body
For a temperature just right.
Sometimes seen in the daytime,
Always out at night.
If some bastard
Gives them a kick
They make their owners
Physically sick.
Their wrinkly skin
Will make you laugh
Like an octogenarian
Too long in the bath.
They move on their own
And often not together
They may just be a sex toy
As they are clearly made of leather.
I think they may be alien
They seem to be extra terrestrials.
You could be kissing ET
When licking, etcetera, testicles.
They have more blue veins
Than auntie Vera' s calves.
They are in this thing together
They don't do things by halves.
"I find them super s s sexy",
You tell me with your stutter.
I think you may well stamp on them
If you found them in a gutter.
They are there to just make babies,
To describe their role succinctly.
And that is why your offspring,
Debut all pink and wrinkly.

[Jack of Hearts]

'ode to jack of hearts' by Jerrybaldy

Jack, oh Jack
I love you like a long lost friend
With a mole I never noticed before.
It talks to me in tongues
Then licks your lips.
Jack oh Jack
Forever come back.
You feel you are no longer here anymore.

[Delta40]

By Jerrybaldy

We masturbate
Then come and feel remorse
We drink and eat
A four course
Meal
And feel
Full.
And empty too
We laugh out loud
When lauging out loud
Is the last thing we want to do.
We pretend to fit
When we don't
Think we will try
When we won't
Connect by sex
Put this bit into that
Like a pussy
Pussy cat
Masturbate me
Make it real
With no remorse
Social intercourse
Call me big boy
You know it makes me feel good
And I should
Call you something back
But I'm having a panic attack.
Have you come yet?
I had a bet
With myself
That you would have
By half past ten
Yet I'm touching you there
Once again.
There's a sunset sun outside
Something special
That we haven't seen
There is a wet patch
That will take all night to dry
There is a remorse that will pass
As I swallow and say goodbye.

[Jerrybaldy]

Blimey. I haven't been in this thread in a long time. Thought it had died. Then find three of my own postings on here. Belated and present thanks Delta and Jack. You have made my day

[Delta40]

Pleasure. We Litnetters need to make use of this thread more often!

[free]

A Little Bit of Humor by Biggus


21st CENTURY NURSERY RHYMES # 360

There they go round the mulberry bush,
Showing there bush,
Showing there bush,
There they go round the mulberry bush,
On a cold and frosty morning.

IF YOUR BLIND DATE IS DESCRIBED TO YOU # 6

If your blind date is described to you
As “a free spirit” you may fancy a frolic
But it will be far worse than it sounds
They’re either a drug addict or an alcoholic

LIFE’S VEXATIONS # 7

I hate it when buying sunglasses
When I find a pair I want to try
And that stupid little plastic thing
Dangles right in front of my eye

I’M SITTING IN MY STUDY READING

I’m sitting in my study reading
Wearing my dressing gown
It’s a book about anti-gravity
It's impossible to put down

I DON’T LIKE LACE-UP SHOES

I don’t like lace-up shoes
And slip-ons aren’t so hot
That just leaves Velcro
So I figured why knot?

ARE YOU WEARING A DENIM SHIRT?

Are you wearing a denim shirt?
Well if I may be so bold
Whether it’s in fashion or not
You manage to make it look old

I'VE SWALLOWED SOME

I've swallowed some of my
Scrabble tiles accidentally
I’m afraid when nature takes
It course it could spell tragedy

I CAN HEAR REALLY ANNOYING MUSIC

I can hear really annoying music
And it’s getting to be a real pain
It’s emanating from inside my printer
I think the paper's jammin' again

I CAN’T QUITE REMEMBER HOW

I can’t quite remember how
To throw a boomerang now
But then eventually
It came back to me

A CHICKPEA AND A LENTIL

A chickpea and a lentil, what is
The difference between that brace?
It’s simple really because no one
Ever paid to have a lentil on their face

[tailor STATELY]

by IceM:

Out in the San Joaquin

From the hilltops, those swaths of yellow and green--
the fields of dry grass where the rabbits scurry,
the squares of vines and the pistachio groves where children
in the stillness of the night will steal the season’s first fruit--
stir in the wind, undulating to and fro in the midday sun.
There too rest the beds of those once-proud streams--
that network of veins winding across the brown chest of the earth--
that now are vestiges of ancient waters
whose currents have long been still.

Here, Thoreau would thrive.
On his morning afternoon late evening walks
among the vineyards the hills the barren plots of dust
where orange trees once stood
(they laid like the wreckage of ships found in shallow seas
when the farmers uprooted them),
he too would see hear feel Nature in its full splendor:
see the crawfish emerge from the reservoir
(a single ripple is left in its wake).
and sun itself on the banks;
see the hawk plunge between the vines
(something nervously scurries amid the weeds)
and emerge with nothing;
see in the farthest reaches of the hills
a wildflower blooming in the stillness.

[NikolaiI]

That's heavenly, IceM; and Tailor; so grateful to you for posting.

[Bar22do]

by miyako

It's all about the light
coming from the window,
splits of bamboo,
left ajar at noon
for the air,
the chatters of peacocks,
the rain,
the noises of monsoon.

Am I Urmila
or Sita of Ramayana
in my dream
woven by the goddess
of sleep?

Your words bring me
to your lips
concealed by the hairs
on your face
as white as the light,
stingy of your tongue
that inaudibly speaks
in Bengali.

Is it Valmiki
or Tulsidas behind you
whispering in Sanskrit
that I'm a devadasi
bathed in lilac water?

The curls of our tongues
understand
the words of our lips
speaking of quiet
as my fingers move
the hairs
to see you say
the light is in Gitanjali.

[Delta40]

Hungry-eyed old men
sift through calisthenicking limbs,
ogling the young: boys, girls—
it doesn't matter.
Every body in unison, disjointedly,
strains its joints, lifts arms and legs
against the planet's gravity.
Futile, futile.
The bods relax; the guts and butts
touch down, drop anchor, and reunite with
Mudder Earth.
The transient moisture of such labors
collects and drips,
gets ragwiped off,
to be laundered later, redissolved,
injected into sewer lines.
Outside, the crew resumes
their norm—both young and old
will eat their fill
of burgers and field greens and jamjam pie.
They'll ingest and micturate
their liquid essentials—
beers and teas and ionized glugs—
until the cycle begins anew...
evaporation and condensation
over and over in sealed alembics
of fleeting fitness and fissuring beauty;
the latter: ever-forever elusive.
Pump and heave, pedal and push,
bring those atoms that were consumed
back to the surface and sweat them all out
again, again.

[noface0711]

I'm a longstanding member of the Delta40 fan club, and this only enhances my appreciation of her work.

[Jack of Hearts]

What is that? A copy of Prince's reply from a few pages back?

[Jerrybaldy]

What's happened to this place ?
Here a return after 5 years with two poems probably better than anything that was written in her abscence is. SarahDrago.

[Jerrybaldy]

notes on my father’s suicide

I.

You crack like an overripe
Egg, embryonic yolk, anemic
yellow.

You have left nothing but your
absence, the sterilized bone.

II.

god is the shape of a circle,
thick with lack.

III.

You are the abstraction of the body,
I am the symbol

sealed shut and unsoiled.

---

untitled

The room is antiseptic white
Unmarked and uninterrupted, it
Eats the clean skin, the clean
Unf uckable flesh, it eats the -

Who are you? You do not see
The room with your bulging eye of
Red. You are not loyal to the
Room as I, do not carry its
Thick placenta.

You cannot enter the room. You
Cannot debase the room with your
Body. You do not feed the room the
Unsplit skin, the slip of the white pill
Fat with gleam.

The room is antiseptic white -
And I, chaste and unaffected,
Sleep beside only sharp blades.

[tailor STATELY]

Jerrybaldy:

Sticklebacks.

I used to fish for sticklebacks
In cold wet socks
In a stream that could be jumped
From muddy bank
To muddy bank,
If you believed.
I climbed trees,
Pubescent,
With a cigarette
To watch the sun die
On concrete
Monstrosities.
Scratched bloody love hearts
On freckled skin
With rusty nails,
Opened advent calendars,
Defrosted fingers
On two bar fires.
I sat on shed roofs
Watching fireworks,
Chewing Wrigley's,
Looking at the same old moon.
Thinking maybe, maybe
Someday soon.

Last edited by Jerrybaldy; 07/09/2017 at 04:15 PM.