Rick's Poetry Corner. Focus on Male Feet

meat

ants bit into his heels unnoticed by the mountain of meat

they grew fat with their eyes sealed, tallying the damned weak survivors of the week

under mind crushing odor melancholic colors, their kingdom took form
each day, the world shrinks and it stinks
the skin burns, the dead reek

he blinked, omens pour
the masses demure, the end of civilization draws near
blood red anarchy bears the prophet rebuke
with psalms of that nature
the politicians debated due to their nurture society procrastinated
they deliberated before falling to their blades lost in the shade

no time for a final ballot
no one saw the bullet
he moved

the corpses now lie as the shadow grows
the sun raises it's bow
dawn passes from this world
the fowl earth shakes, rancid matter quakes
he awakes
 
This poem is scary, Rick! I like your choice of clamorous consonants throughout, particularly in "under mind crushing odor melancholic colors, their kingdom took form". Also, there is something in your style that reminds me of Tolkien's TLOTR, which is high praise. I hope "meat" is continued. I don't think this tale has been told to its end. Stayed tuned, boys and girls!
 
in abandonment and shadow i throw myself away and to guess on what could happen i will bury myself today

in nostalgic disrepair my words become my shrine
in loneliness and passion my life becomes my crime

in fear and wilting essence i turn myself to dust
but in my vain and ghostly presence i am the spirit of my lust

in rain and heavy winds my mind is a chaotic race
insane for an early winter my heart begins to give me a taste

in my lack of sentence i become everything i hate
in my prison lie unpunished feelings it is my consciousness i must sedate

and i swear that i can still taste him
i swear that i can still see
but i swear that I'd only kill you
if i never take it out of me
 
ROTTING



sitting cold and alone, here i await
tears from within my eyes
a fire grows from within the pit of my chest slowly creeping it's way up
the fire swells in my throat
the tears begin to flow
the pain will not stop, the fire will no cease
i cannot speak
i cannot think
my mind is shattered
my heart is ripped to shreds
my soul has vanished
yet the pain remains
yet the tears flow
my chest is hollow and stale
rage is all that flows through these veins
i am as cold and as still as a flesh rotting corpse but the fire swells within burning hotter and without mercy
my eyes once gleaming are now lifeless black hollows
nothing will ease this suffering
this is all that is left
it is the only sensation that i feel so here i sit, a slow rotting corpse
fueled by an eternal fire of pain and suffering known as embalming fluid
but yet never to feel again
 
Hello Rick!

In meat You still tell a story from the perspective of feet, ants and grass but Your imagery becomes heavier it is rancid, odors and things stinks.
You are now also talking to the politicians and masses, it is no longer a lover or a hankering neighbor that You talk to.
The theme is no longer lust and yearning but grand calamities and prophecies of some thing threatening that is going to happen.
 
The closing verse of the first poem is wonderful:

"and i swear that i can still taste him
i swear that i can still see
but i swear that I'd only kill you
if i never take it out of me"

As for "ROTTING", it's full of pent-up emotion. It's like a pressure cooker building up steam towards an explosion...but never quite blowing.
 
BACK TO MY ADDICTION, THE FEET!!!!!!


you give me foot and kisses
i give you a ton of love
a blowjob, maybe two
you masturbate me with your twinkle toes
orgasm takes us where the wild goose goes
firm as a rock, our love's build on feet, big balls and cock

you're feet massage my cheeks, my lips, my nose
our dicks get really happy and it shows
bare soles are dancing on my heart's glass ceiling
naked soles silhouettes leave senses reeling
let's misbehave!
barefoot me dude!
i want to be your slave

say i am a bunch of grapes and stomp me silly
pound me with loving soles, i mean it, really!
i'll gag and gurgle, while you whack me merrily, loving the toes that puncture me verily
between your toes i read my destiny in lyric prose

rescue cool words from prude paralysis
put back the anal in analysis
let your big toe deflower a virgin hole and give my mouth visions of your sole
who knows? with luck heaven may be a long barefoot fuck
 
Dirty talk always has excited me, but your RHYMING dirty talk gives me one hell of a jumping and juicing boner. The trouble is, you can't recite your poetry while sucking.
 
It’s clear that you write from you’re soul, and that is exciting to see.
Thanks for starting this corner, your writing fills us with glee.

The only thing better, and it would be neat.
Would be living your words while lying at your feet.

Thanks for sharing my dear.
 





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

Such amazing skill with prose and verse,
I have so seldom ever observed
And hardly now can be at all reserved.

So outright I must openly say
Such a magnificent feat beyond all feet,
of masculine bod, of spirit and sole-filled meat.

Such a soul beyond all soles we have never read before,
So on his deft way is StustustuGOO Rick
To becoming our CDG Shakespearian most esteemed gift.

:winner::winner::winner::winner::winner:

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


Opening speech from

Richard III
by
William Shakespeare


 
Last edited:
YOUR MINE!


the wind is crisp on this beautiful night, but yet your eyes are full of fright
the moonlight hits their sapphire hue, glistening with tears, i comfort you

you'll be allright, no need for fear, and please don't scream there's no one here
i pull out a kit while you're tied on the ground, they you start thrashing and squirming around

stop it! i yell in a commanding voice
this isn't my fault, you gave me no choice
from watching and stalking you day after day i had to do something so we could play

i brought you here to stay with me, but now i doubt we'll live happily

for us to be considered as one, i'll taste your flesh under the morning sun

i'll flay your skin and make a cloak
remove your organs and let them smoke
a tasty meal i'm prepared to eat
there's nothing better then fresh male feet
your feet small bones i use to stir my tea, ill use your feet's blood to mix into my coffee
i know that now you must be scared but please don't worry i came prepared

a good gunshot should help, no doubt, i may hit your eyes, so first i'll take them out
after this, your feet and i will be one so let's stop talking and get this done!
 
you give me foot and kisses
i give you a ton of love
a blowjob, maybe two
you masturbate me with your twinkle toes
orgasm takes us where the wild goose goes
firm as a rock, our love's build on feet, big balls and cock

Beautiful lines Stu, like many others in this thread.
You're showing that explicit male sexual desires and acts can be a great subject in art.
Hope you'll have more inspiration (or is that insemination?) soon.
 
Pure delightful pornography for us psychopaths here on the forum. This poem affected me in a very tangible physical way.
 
Back
Top