Bantering with Octagons
- Thread starter Dillinger
- Start date
thør
Karhu-er
- Joined
- May 29, 2002
- Posts
- 92,575
That, it is.
Debbie
Persnickety slattern
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2001
- Posts
- 24,213
when Im old and lose my marbles
will you still draw me silly maps
with stick figures, doodles and arrows
laugh when I fart as I shuffle from
room to another or pee from laughter
snarf as I make another unfunny joke
I roll my eyes as you yell to stupid to live
while you're watching some jackass on you tube
<old fart love>
love doesn't die it just mellows
will you still draw me silly maps
with stick figures, doodles and arrows
laugh when I fart as I shuffle from
room to another or pee from laughter
snarf as I make another unfunny joke
I roll my eyes as you yell to stupid to live
while you're watching some jackass on you tube
<old fart love>
love doesn't die it just mellows
Debbie
Persnickety slattern
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2001
- Posts
- 24,213
You're not an e-reader dear but never fear if the world ends up completely in the upside down I'll still be here with cheshire smile from ear to ear just like the joker and IT beware of the jabberwocky and the many with falsehoods and we can walk page in hand spine to palm, beloved.
I found you dog eared
page corners folded
no bookmark insight
my eyes they teared
my thoughts scolded
at said creased plight
you are mine and revered
beloved mine Im devoted
your cover I hold tight
yours
~ bookworm
I found you dog eared
page corners folded
no bookmark insight
my eyes they teared
my thoughts scolded
at said creased plight
you are mine and revered
beloved mine Im devoted
your cover I hold tight
yours
~ bookworm
Debbie
Persnickety slattern
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2001
- Posts
- 24,213
evil genius
maniacal laugh
face painted
clown no upside down
freaky fuckers
creepy smile
no laughing
till I pee from fright
close the book
no thanks king
your book was a portal
to horror silent screams
IT is cinema chunder
end of that chapter
maniacal laugh
face painted
clown no upside down
freaky fuckers
creepy smile
no laughing
till I pee from fright
close the book
no thanks king
your book was a portal
to horror silent screams
IT is cinema chunder
end of that chapter
gotsnowgotslush
skates like Eck
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2007
- Posts
- 25,720
I stopped devouring
as if there would not be
another chance
I took one, not knowing
the trade I had agreed to
I tore through reams and
books, and time
The answer was not there
It would take decades
as if there would not be
another chance
I took one, not knowing
the trade I had agreed to
I tore through reams and
books, and time
The answer was not there
It would take decades
Aquagal
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2007
- Posts
- 31,672
Ice and wodka!
Some juice of the sweet red
A bit o horsey sauce
Habanero’d in a celery bed
Worschter dashes
Olives and sip...
Nope! More hot is desired
Maybe a slip of the nip
A babe with my new friend, Mary
‘twas the mixer, so demure
Blonde with my bloodied
Perfectly dimpled, I’m sure.
Some juice of the sweet red
A bit o horsey sauce
Habanero’d in a celery bed
Worschter dashes
Olives and sip...
Nope! More hot is desired
Maybe a slip of the nip
A babe with my new friend, Mary
‘twas the mixer, so demure
Blonde with my bloodied
Perfectly dimpled, I’m sure.
Killswitch1
................
- Joined
- May 16, 2004
- Posts
- 5,469
...
sigh
chant mistress
- Joined
- Sep 19, 2001
- Posts
- 10,248
swimming
the river is deep and swift
naked skin
slick fur
dip and twirl and undulate like an otter
gagged a thought the other day
I'll never think that thought again, I'll tell you
most unpleasant
blink a dip ration if you dare
dink*dink*fzzzzzzt
the river is deep and swift
naked skin
slick fur
dip and twirl and undulate like an otter
gagged a thought the other day
I'll never think that thought again, I'll tell you
most unpleasant
blink a dip ration if you dare
dink*dink*fzzzzzzt
Aquagal
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2007
- Posts
- 31,672
Marv spat in his hand and impatiently raked it through his hair in a poor attempt to keep it trained. I saw him in the distance before he saw me, walking, trying to shrug off the day’s baggage. His matinee idol looks hadn't wavered despite the need to get those locks snipped. After toiling at the mill, his swagger was on the cusp of becoming a gimp. A shower would help that right quick...along with a blowjob.
cleaver
Literotica Koro
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2012
- Posts
- 3,662
yeah, so...
the keys had been took from under the mat.
but... the doors were all open and there was a breeze coming through...
tired and dirty.
the cupboards, all where they were supposed to be;
empty 'cept for some broken glass.
they was once full of secrets and stirring delights...
always was full and darkly fresh...
could fuck fresh plenty from the cupboards alone..
broken glass.
fridge on, still. strange.
what was left of an old glass quart of (now green?) milk under dim naked light...
not a morsel more or even bit of cello...
they'd spoken out grand haunting meals from this cool...
delivered too, some of them...
in strange togethers and quieter coupled indiscretions.
bitter now - the quiet
there was nothing.
nothing else...
no clue.
no link...
except
a half smoked cigar - long-ashed and dry - in an ancient tuna can on the counter.
coup-de-grace.
i can just see the fucker smoking it;
slow and lumpy -
grin or sneer as he sucked?
a lonely sad satisfaction
either way.
he'd "won".
won the argument.
won the game.
won the house.
won it all - having drove out any damn thing, really, to win.
...and in that - once it hit him -
having drove out his own damned titillation in the all of it.
fat tired fuck.
actually imagined he'd get the people that once came with it.
they'd took it all in the diaspora. all of it.
they'd - one by one - "lost".
lost to him
and other hims and hers who'd been chipping away
instead of adding
til all was lost - lastly any desire to win so...
for all his hard damned work.
a fucked life, now well misplaced and empty...
a shrug, perhaps...
more likely an unsatisfied grunt.
he'd then left.
left the half smoked cigar in a tuna can.
left the doors open
left - taking only his re-certified fucked life load to destroy elsewhere;
not even a worthwhile stick to take as trophy.
he'd just left.
left the place
to the winds to come
or to the occasional nostalgic traveler
who could - for dank moments - fill cupboards and closets
with palpable ghosts
that once teased and once danced and once fucked
without then now-need for dominion.
the keys had been took from under the mat.
but... the doors were all open and there was a breeze coming through...
tired and dirty.
the cupboards, all where they were supposed to be;
empty 'cept for some broken glass.
they was once full of secrets and stirring delights...
always was full and darkly fresh...
could fuck fresh plenty from the cupboards alone..
broken glass.
fridge on, still. strange.
what was left of an old glass quart of (now green?) milk under dim naked light...
not a morsel more or even bit of cello...
they'd spoken out grand haunting meals from this cool...
delivered too, some of them...
in strange togethers and quieter coupled indiscretions.
bitter now - the quiet
there was nothing.
nothing else...
no clue.
no link...
except
a half smoked cigar - long-ashed and dry - in an ancient tuna can on the counter.
coup-de-grace.
i can just see the fucker smoking it;
slow and lumpy -
grin or sneer as he sucked?
a lonely sad satisfaction
either way.
he'd "won".
won the argument.
won the game.
won the house.
won it all - having drove out any damn thing, really, to win.
...and in that - once it hit him -
having drove out his own damned titillation in the all of it.
fat tired fuck.
actually imagined he'd get the people that once came with it.
they'd took it all in the diaspora. all of it.
they'd - one by one - "lost".
lost to him
and other hims and hers who'd been chipping away
instead of adding
til all was lost - lastly any desire to win so...
for all his hard damned work.
a fucked life, now well misplaced and empty...
a shrug, perhaps...
more likely an unsatisfied grunt.
he'd then left.
left the half smoked cigar in a tuna can.
left the doors open
left - taking only his re-certified fucked life load to destroy elsewhere;
not even a worthwhile stick to take as trophy.
he'd just left.
left the place
to the winds to come
or to the occasional nostalgic traveler
who could - for dank moments - fill cupboards and closets
with palpable ghosts
that once teased and once danced and once fucked
without then now-need for dominion.
