Rick's Poetry Corner. Focus on Male Feet

[stustustugoo]

CORPUS DELICTI..............


confined is close quarters i grind your dead bones with a mortar
loves tastes like carrion
breathing mold spores my cock craves your rotting soles through the open morgue doors like the kiss of a dying heart
for to taint joy with the stink of decay i must experience your rotting flesh here, now and today haunts honestly with living lies

a heavy heart cannot power the light
you're no longer able to put up a fight
your stench fuels my soul

 

[stustustugoo]

A ROTTING EARTH

the flower of life is speckled with rot
all people reflect it in each dying spot
and as this blossom's wounds attempt to clot, it's life is cut short by sickly human hands

a vice ruled existence, a planet of shameful indulgence
despite all the pleasure, it's a cursed treasure

our time is running through the hourglass,
the grains of sand becoming course and crass,
there is no redemption for a sinners such as us
as the moon becomes red with human blood we'll consume each others flesh from the mud
can you now feel the blooms of human death begin to bud

drunk with power we stumble into our own black deathbed
even with green life that our disease ridden breath fed
we must face the fact
we are but beasts in multi colored skins controlled by priests
the stories of a savior now have died
but in their comfort some will still try to hide
their lies will, their cries will all be ignored in the face of our dark end
our deserved demise

our time is running through the hourglass
our blood now gives new life to the dry grass
the earth will quench it's thirst with our fragile bodies
the cracks of earth seal and smother our lungs
our dishonest words chocked behind or tongues
who would have thought the soil would cease our self inflicted turmoil?

 

[alexonedeath]

These are two more delightful decompositions! Can you record yourself reading your poetry? That would be a treat to hear.

 

[old bearkill]

BACK TO MY ADDICTION, THE FEET!!!!!!


.//.
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

I love these lines. It feels like the poet is snuggling up to me place his hand on my cock and whisper those hot words in my ear.

And now i see there is more to come!

 

[stustustugoo]

HERE IS A LINK TO HEAR ME READING ONE OF MY POEMS, HOPE U ALL ENJOY!!


https://youtu.be/gDlAbcfztDQ

 

[alexonedeath]

Rick, I never imagined you having such a DEEP voice! You should be an FM radio announcer. I heard my name at the beginning, thank you for immortalizing me. I found your reading immensely enjoyable. The part of the poem I like best is when you explain to the victim: "This isn't my fault. You gave me no choice." He deserved to die for being so killable.

Under the YouTube audio, there is a photo of what looks like a Civil War re-enactor and the name Martin Istaa. What's that all about?

 

[old bearkill]

HERE IS A LINK TO HEAR ME READING ONE OF MY POEMS, HOPE U ALL ENJOY!!


https://youtu.be/gDlAbcfztDQ

Wow what a deep manly and voice! I feel like little miss Bouncer...

 

[stustustugoo]

Awww, thank you! your so sweet! I'm glad u like my voice!

 

[PiercedChest]

These are two more delightful decompositions!

 

[PiercedChest]

HERE IS A LINK TO HEAR ME READING ONE OF MY POEMS, HOPE U ALL ENJOY!!
https://youtu.be/gDlAbcfztDQ

Nice to hear you recite, and with a lovely deep manly voice too.

 

[stustustugoo]

SPILL MY BLOOD.......


a creature made of bone and blood
his eyes were like the stars

he breathed out cold and death
and he whispered dark tales from afar
the sunlit down his scarred face
his grin whispered that our hope is vain
in the pit of madness all we fear is the sane

the chains rattled
his victims shackled
the demons railed
his skin was paled

please punish me for my thoughts of sin
i like it when you flail my skin
thank the gods my mind is grim
for i saw you in my most twisted dream
be my bane for being sane

oh dark man intoxicate me with my pain

 

[stustustugoo]

SERIAL..................

the eyes were first, such easy meat
devoured by pride and pure conceit
their followed more, yes, so much more for you are now a media whore
a killer, yes, and they want news,
the gory facts, the press refuse
for truth be known a monster in thee for you enjoy that which you see

the savage cuts, the little treats that constitute the sweeter meats
you cut and dice, with loving slice to then prepare your rare delights
no food can ever replace this meal, nothing tastes like another men's heel
such nourishment doth make you feel happy, joyful, satisfied and ready to squeal with the added dash of sex appeal

 

[alexonedeath]

Your two most recent poems are full of satisfying rhymes and rhythms. In SERIAL, I very much like the sound of "...little treats..." and "...sweeter meats...". Do you ever write out your poems in blood?

 

[stustustugoo]

Your two most recent poems are full of satisfying rhymes and rhythms. In SERIAL, I very much like the sound of "...little treats..." and "...sweeter meats...". Do you ever write out your poems in blood?

Hmmmmm, very interesting concept you have brought up here.....................hmmm maybe foot blood?
now I'm getting hard!

 

[callmecaleb]

foot blood?
now I'm getting hard!

Me, too.

 

[old bearkill]

Spill my blood makes me think about the fictional character Hannibal Lecter when we meet him sitting in his cell.

Serial is interesting, i think You are talking to two persons. First You are turning Your words to the serial killer him self and how he is interacting with the news media. Then You are also talking to the reading audience, the public, and their craving for death, blood and gore. It is the serial killer in all of us.

Nota bene! If You are thinking about putting Alexonedeath's proposition in to practice, do n o t use Your fountain pen. The blood will clog it for good, You better use a steel pen or perhaps a quill

 

[stustustugoo]

i agree old bear..........

 

[stustustugoo]

HIS FOOT PERFUME////////////

his foot perfume intoxicates completely,
my brain shuts down as in a drunkin stupor.
no way can i react or think discretely,
when foot stink pumps my dick to super duper.
as i inhale my poems begin to tell a barefoot tale.




DREAMIN........


the soles of his bare feet become my pillow.
i sniff and suck until the dream is real.
his body, supple as a springtime willow,
wiggles his toes and cock for one last thrill.
was i just dreamin?
if i was, i ask you, why are my hands and mouth full of semen?

 

[alexonedeath]

"HIS FOOT PERFUME" made me laugh! The phrase "...foot stink pumps my dick to super duper..." is sufficient, all by itself, to gain this poem immediate entry into an anthology. "DREAMIN" is spooky, because, though we may like semen well enough, we want to know where it came from. Who wouldn't hate waking up in the morning, after a night alone, to find a mouthful of spunk -- THAT ISN'T YOURS? :O

 

[old bearkill]

Less is More!

I like those to very direct and describing poems. The short poem often intensifies the feeling in powerful way. We can see the Japanese haiku as an example, a short descriptive sentence together with an, often abrupt, statement describing a feeling, a memory a sensory awareness.