Spanking-The-Muse Thread

Liar

now with 17% more class
Joined
Dec 4, 2003
Posts
43,715
Random half assed scribblings to get the creative wheels spinning.

At least an attempt,
where I stumble so verklempt
in a no man's land
between confusion and contempt.

Gosh darn it, what a flippin' draught,
some drippin' disease I've caught.
Or is it just the season, a sniggering
day and age destined to keep
my muse away, every word at bay.

What can I say? What can I do,
Except go berserk on the bitch,
bend her over for a solid paddle
and demand my lunch money back?

What she stole from me
with the promise of a kiss
and a quick snog behind the
memory banks. That is all
I ever asked.
 
One day,
I will sell my soul on E-Bay,
see if I can squeeze
a foolish penny
from a paper tiger,
and release this pigeon flock
inside. To let it
scatter and hide.

Then spread sunflower
seeds across my chest.
Watch them land and merge.
And some sucker
will go soulless
still.

Yes,
one day,
I will sell my soul
on E-Bay.

So you see,
I can not give it to you,
not yet, only borrow.
I just might need it
tomorrow.
 
Can one borrow love? If so,
I need a truck load. Bring it
on in. Dump it, right here.

Scatter your steamy lust,
all around. Do not shovel
or muck. I wanna sit here,
watch your big ole truck.

Bed flying, way up high.
Coming off the ground.
Sheets sizzle ... Burn.

Seems I gotta bad case.
Of your bargain basement love.
Just to show. Blue light specials,
are not, a dime a dozen ...

:rose:


I know it needs a lotta work.
Was a Live write ~


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Liar,

Love your:

Gosh darn it, what a flippin' draught,
some drippin' disease I've caught.


line. Sweet, Hot an sexy ~ :D
Just Me ~

:)
 
RhymeFairy said:
Can one borrow love? If so,
I need a truck load. Bring it
on in. Dump it, right here.

Scatter your steamy lust,
all around. Do not shovel
or muck. I wanna sit here,
watch your big ole truck.

Bed flying, way up high.
Coming off the ground.
Sheets sizzle ... Burn.

Seems I gotta bad case.
Of your bargain basement love.
Just to show. Blue light specials,
are not, a dime a dozen ...

:rose:


I know it needs a lotta work.
Was a Live write ~


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Liar,

Love your:

Gosh darn it, what a flippin' draught,
some drippin' disease I've caught.


line. Sweet, Hot an sexy ~ :D
Just Me ~

:)


Lol, I knew you would post here ~ this is your kinda thread :D

Hello my friend ~ nice poem :rose:
 
rhythm descends to sleep
a sub sonic pulse blood flow beat
on kashmere delicate arms
hugging a doubt buried deep

a weary head rests weary concerns
in the sight of a sub sonic dream
tugging for frowns from a serene
struggle in realms beyond sleep

hush, keep lids closed
listen to the night
it whispers nothing
to break the crystal perfection

your cradle is a world in my eyes
and this your protection
always home
always right
 
Liar said:
Random half assed scribblings to get the creative wheels spinning.

At least an attempt,
where I stumble so verklempt
in a no man's land
between confusion and contempt.

Gosh darn it, what a flippin' draught,
some drippin' disease I've caught.
Or is it just the season, a sniggering
day and age destined to keep
my muse away, every word at bay.

What can I say? What can I do,
Except go berserk on the bitch,
bend her over for a solid paddle
and demand my lunch money back?

What she stole from me
with the promise of a kiss
and a quick snog behind the
memory banks. That is all
I ever asked.

Sure seems to me your muse is spewing a mile a minuet...or maybe that was a days worth in fast forward?
 
Sins666 said:
Sure seems to me your muse is spewing a mile a minuet...or maybe that was a days worth in fast forward?

*Giggles* Cute thought. ~ :D

Fast forward this muse. Take
her witty wings. String her up,
devil dancing with glee. Long
day, finally pass. Spring up, to
tomorrow, don't you dare.

Rest is required, for this weary
soul. Writing for all, I have
and hold. Solitary nights,
bloodshot morns. Pinch me
baby, for I must not dream.

Nightly visions to carry on.
Grabbing, screaming behind
heavenly lids. Flutters of
sparrows, taking flight, mid
air. Tenderly, hold me tight.

Muse cuts chase. Frothy,
musical laughter, escapes.
Her wit still intact. Ladder
drops, end of day. Too
soon, fast forward,
mused ...


* softly snuggles down *
 
I had written this one a few weeks ago.
It seemed appropriate to post here.
Still a lil rough, but it'll do ... for now. ~
* Grins*


My Muse ~



he whispers in my ear
telling me naughty things
what he wants
my desire
zingssss

whole night of love
taking our time
lighting the path
all is mine

to be and have
take command
my muse tells me
mmmmm what a man

he is the light
my tunnel he dives into
ears ring
from all he does do

champion of all
taking what he wants
telling me
what I can do

showing the path
all that is a naughty, delight
whispering tales
of sin ... contemplation's hand

grabbing his head
pouty mouth that locks
locking him there
where it all clicks

moist wet center
alighting the gloom
as passion explodes
baby ... shoot for the moon ~


:kiss:
 
Pause...but dont stop.
Now is the time!
for proping up lids
and picking up quills

The ink is red hot
ready to sear
a new verse or two
straight into air

So fling open the roll back
and pull out some parchment
this fairy's not quite ready
for settelin' just yet


Its not Poe or anything but its my futile attempt.

{Edit: Decided "thin" didnt work near as well as i thought}
 
August weekdays are milk chocolate bar toffee filling, sticky sickly sweet killing me softly, soothing promises of sugar rush never cached in, when an empty town beckons me to sit passive, folded, tipped over like a stranded whale in front of Baywatch reruns, an illusion of paradise painfully punctuated by a hairy Hasselhoff ass, all toffee quicksand tugging focus to bend over for days upon days of not quite sleep, a sticky sickly sweet dreamy drowning retreat.
 
I know it leans just ever so slightly
but you see
Its built all by me

A leaning tower of trust
I'll call it Christien
...
In memory of the absent builder
 
Stash the chocolate
Baby. For it offers
paramours fumes,
that chivalrously
chafe, the wrinkled
wrap. Foiling soft
skinned kisses, of
nutty carmel nuggets.
Among, sins testimonious
tribulations. Awaking
in this sinner, a chorus,
of heavenly hallucinations.
Bring forth the chocolate
Baby, let's dive in ...

:D
 
Its a lonely walk to the bottom of the bottle
And A long ride to find the light at the end of the tunnel

You let me fly kites when the brush never russeled
And at midnight you stayed with the frog, your former prince

But you got off last exit
without a word
a letter
a nod
or a smile

You walked through the lamp post puddle and melted into the night
So long to you imagination!

...
Its time to grow up.
 
Sins666 said:
Its a lonely walk to the bottom of the bottle
And A long ride to find the light at the end of the tunnel

You let me fly kites when the brush never russeled
And at midnight you stayed with the frog, your former prince

But you got off last exit
without a word
a letter
a nod
or a smile

You walked through the lamp post puddle and melted into the night
So long to you imagination!

...
Its time to grow up.

Oh I really like this...it has a mysterious quality to it...I've just read it for the first time yet it feels familiar... :rose:
 
Will you bounce a ping pong ball
through your cerebral wasteland,
and form, for once,
an actual opinion?

Or will you tell me
you are happy lip-syncing
to The O'Reilly Factor?

Your word, your choice,
your country right or wrong,
your voice to the chanting chorus,
or to an actual song.
 
Liar said:
August weekdays are milk chocolate bar toffee filling, sticky sickly sweet killing me softly, soothing promises of sugar rush never cached in, when an empty town beckons me to sit passive, folded, tipped over like a stranded whale in front of Baywatch reruns, an illusion of paradise painfully punctuated by a hairy Hasselhoff ass, all toffee quicksand tugging focus to bend over for days upon days of not quite sleep, a sticky sickly sweet dreamy drowning retreat.

August funk can be overcome
with longnecks and speedoes
walking proudly down main
showing your own hairy ass
trolling and catching
a poem never written
a back hand never tasted
a muse with eyes of blue
a trucker who lost his way
something sticky on the pavement
get off your ass and advertise
 
In your half-boy, half-man sate
will you listen?
Will you understand the love
behind your mother’s words?
Or will you turn away,
turn to your peers
who drink and swear
and smear their deeds
across the country
as they smash their bones
and shred souls
across the concrete highways?
Go along with you!
Keep playing!
And when you see her wandering,
searching
your name on the white crossed
roadside, maybe you’ll begin
to understand her love.
But then again,
you probably won’t.
 
A wall of blindness
that sits between your ears
blinds you to the beauty
of a world passing by
as you drown your distractions
and destroy those dedications
of familial foundations
in a brown glass bottle
reflections of self
seeking an untravelled path
of risk and excitement
perhaps enlightening
most certainly de-sensitising
 
I keep returning to you, time
and time again. You feed my soul,
uplift my heart. Let me be the me,
I was from the start.

Whispering whispers, of
encouragement. Planting
my feet, upon the lighted path.
Helping turns, to understanding,
of all the things, I thought wrong.

Loving me as I am, not as you
wish I were. Abundantly it Is clear,
I am your gurl. Hold my heart
for safekeeping, my courageous
mystical muse.

Come, shower with me. Strip me
bare. Locking the door against
times steeling hands. We shall
take our time, to worship each
other. Sudsy soppy, musical slides,
two hearts heatedly entwine...


:heart:
 
RhymeFairy said:
I keep returning to you, time
and time again. You feed my soul,
uplift my heart. Let me be the me,
I was from the start.

Whispering whispers, of
encouragement. Planting
my feet, upon the lighted path.
Helping turns, to understanding,
of all the things, I thought wrong.

Loving me as I am, not as you
wish I were. Abundantly it Is clear,
I am your gurl. Hold my heart
for safekeeping, my courageous
mystical muse.

Come, shower with me. Strip me
bare. Locking the door against
times steeling hands. We shall
take our time, to worship each
other. Sudsy soppy, musical slides,
two hearts heatedly entwine...


:heart:

:heart: :devil: :rose: ;) :D
 
a thought ...


muse me
amuse me
sizzle me up

caught in the
firestorm
not letting go
howling winds zing
passion rides high

muse me my muse
don't make me cry.
take my hand
together we fly ...

:heart:
 
Blue Muse

poetry is like the blues
what you gained you loose
it's not a myth or vision
it's more about division

throw your heart unto the ground
everyone won't walk around
some ball busting bitch
will scratch the itch

and when she is long gone
theres a somebody done
somebody wrong song
and you're back where you belong :nana:
 
sandspike said:
throw your heart unto the ground


throw your heart onto the ground
exposed,
as footsteps wander aimlessly down the well used path
mindless of where the sole lands
or how it tramples the vulnerable organ

leave it there to lay
in rain or sun
under light or darkness
collecting grime and car fumes
as time moves forward

let it soak up storm waters
purity is not a question here

kick it out like hacky sacks sail
through the air to bounce
from ankle to heel
landing and grinding to a halt
on the edge of yellow sand
 
throw your heart onto the ground
then hide to see
who picks it up
 
My toss was not intentional, inattentive
care for the unlocked cage
of my ribs. Yet there it was: muscle
laboring for love on cobblestones
and curbs
of lust restrained. Shoppers armed
with heels and lists
tested it for fidelity and knife-
thrust resilience.
I struggled through the strobing
of parted legs to pull it
from the unrequited
gutter's edge, nursed its stilleto wounds
and tucked it tenderly home.
 
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