I treasure your booty
murmured he in silk voice
the beast in him boiling
as he watched peaks and valleys
undulating between hips
Let me heed your cheeks,
play hopscotch on your moons
shake your sexy tush to rhythm
flourishing and nourishing desire
buns of dreams in booty shorts.
I took a trip on an old rocking ship on a sea among many ships
A floating boat that rocks to and fro on waves that grow
I felt the need to bend at my hips and do some dips
In agony I winced, I needed to go as I looked for a place to blow
my stomach felt tremendous pain, I cringed, as I heard rips
I blew out my back door goo & poo, I felt a messy lava flow
I'll never forget last nights Carolina reaper avocado dip & chips
This will forever be a memory of my worse vacation trips.
William Henry Mills Jr. 09-03-2017
Hello September it has been some time
Since we last played in your special rhyme
A year has passed and come again
To showcase your leaves of rust and tin
Your breeze and rustle have just begun
The lyrics to your song unsung
A gentleness you have come to form
Among your showers and easy storms
And as the leaves shake and fall
September unwillingly tells us all
She has come to visit but can not stay
Though she will return on this very day
Walking taut tightrope of insomnia
somersaulting off edge of nightmares
tumbling without safety net balm
plunging, red puffy eyes wide open
watching end rise to curtsy at my feet
vanilla morning light sets me free.
Mr Portmanteau carried too much baggage,
bags and suitcases he wanted no longer,
sins and wicked deeds spilling out on the floor.
Wore striped suit in jail for Californication
because of his great love for sexercise.
Guzzled tall mixed drinks of scotchka,
suffered in winter from chilling affluenza.
Wanted bromance from his very best friend,
lost his Volvo to a friendly carjacker
people he knew were all his frenemies
wearing clothes made of plush pleather.
Holed up in his house for staycations,
fancied himself as a workaholic but
found guilty once again of spamforgery.
Just couldn’t get rid of his baggage!
a large trunk or suitcase, typically made of stiff leather and opening into two equal parts.
a word blending the sounds and combining the meanings of two others, for example motel (from ‘motor’ and ‘hotel’) or brunch (from ‘breakfast’ and ‘lunch’).
She smoothed her thong
over her curvy hips
and fastened skimpy top
over ample size breasts
but she had no tan lines
because all would come off
when his eyes lit up
with one thing in mind.
They sauntered down
to the cool water’s edge.
As they slid in
goose bumps arose
but it wasn’t for long
before combustion began
flaming their bodies
both begging for more.
His probing fingers
slipped down her suit
found the core of her desire
and stroked sensually
her throbbing passion.
He ripped her thong off
threw it up in the air
untied her top
sucked heaving breasts
into yearning mouth.
He lifted her up
she wrapped tanned legs
firmly around his waist
he caressed her buttocks.
He entered her essence
in a thrust of pure lust
their juices mingled
in fireworks of ardor.
He carried her nude body
to the sandy shore
threw her down
and took all he wanted.
Kissing and licking
wet mouths of passion.
When all was through
they slept naked
on the white beach
for a while, before
languidly opening their eyes
to sense movement in bushes.
A voyeur watching
their erotic dance
and then they began
all over again,
viewed by eyes of a stranger
touching bodies with his mind.
Fully aware of his presence,
turned on and aroused
they cascaded to a zenith
of sighs and groans
before they felt
the third party
joining in their romp
with slippery abandon.
It brought them to heights
they’d never imagined.
When they collapsed
after the heat subsided
the stranger was gone
but remained in memories
to be recalled now and then
reawakening their intensity
when both were alone
in the lapping aqua water.
Long slow tear of silk
Beat of silence that follows
Glint of eye and claw
A Treacherous Web
Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads.
The black widow before me begs to be fed.
Devious and cold, a demanding deadly trickster.
Resplendent and ravishing, but don't succumb to the whispers.
Haunting, yet refined. All attraction proves fatal.
Detrimental. Toxic. Endless warning labels.
I sift through the threads to see the fiend clearer,
Until my fingers strike glass. Alas! Only a mirror...
hunched over and tightly held,
protecting an insecure core.
Disappointment and fatigue
underly a feigned smile
Getting too tired
to continue dreaming.
I am not myself.
Songs of the Unforgiven
Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads...
My heart ripped to ribbons, my soul torn to shreds...
With memories like landmines, with secrets that stain;
Nightdwellers are prone to turn pleasure to pain.
Pent up emotions become violent eruptions;
We reap what we sow, and I've sown my destruction.
Do you measure your worth based on someone's opinion?
Have you acted out thoughtlessly for someone's attention?
Is the child who adored you now full of suspicion?
Welcome to my world, we've been deemed Unforgiven.
The days that I find myself lost in the memories,
Become nights I spin reckless, too much restless energy.
I make the worst choices when the future seems bleak;
When the mirror taunts cruelly, when remorse leaves me weak.
I wanna feel good again, for tonight, for a moment.
Add to my list of sins needing atonement.
Have you suffered in silence to avoid confrontation?
Have you blown up your life giving in to temptation?
Was becoming his fall back plan your heart's ruination?
Was your redemption revoked while you sought sweet salvation?
Destination unknown, I am destined to wander...
Wasted again, like the potential squandered.
But what does it matter? It's my blood that's spilled.
What matters to me is that my empties get filled.
If I clear the bong, take it straight to the dome;
The empties will stop trying to burn down my home.
If I snort this line, or an 8ball or more;
Maybe they'll let me get off of the floor.
And if my empties get filled with a bottle of gin,
I'll savor the silence, till they start in again.
Blindly, running wildly, I'm ahead of the pain.
But I can't outrun that which flows through my veins.
The wind strokes my hair like a lover's caress;
Icy, cold fingers slip beneath my torn dress.
Afraid to look forward, afraid to look back...
I'm frozen in fear as I brace for attack.
I look up at the stars, at the moon seeking guidance;
The stars blink, the moon winks in hateful black silence.
Confirming a lesson I learned long ago;
I've got no one to save me, and nowhere to go.
If you've accepted more apologies than given permission...
If giving your heart inspires panicked apprehension...
If every choice hurts, when there's no good decision,
Well, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.
How long can I run when I'm destined to fall?
Karma's a bitch, and she catches us all.
I give up, I concede, I collapse on the ground.
I'll take what I get without making a sound.
The Darkness overtakes me, and the next thing I know,
I wake up in a strange place that isn't my home.
Now I'm slinking away with my head hung in shame.
Full of self-loathing, but I have no one to blame.
Despite my best efforts, I'm still aware and alive.
Each day, my Day of Reckoning; my curse to survive.