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!

port•man•teau Definition

ˌpôrtˈmantō/

noun

1.

a large trunk or suitcase, typically made of stiff leather and opening into two equal parts.

2.

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

wrapped together

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.

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...

pressure.

pain.

hunched over and tightly held,

protecting an insecure core.

Disappointment and fatigue

underly a feigned smile

Getting too tired 

to continue dreaming.

dissociation

separation

I am not myself.

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.