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squeeze (Other) by kthulah i'd like to see that
that special wrinkle
between your brows
arched down at the sides
i'd like to feel that
the sudden inlet
of air you gasp
when you're overwhelmed
i'd like to hear them
those filthy phrases
you spill online
an inch from my ear
i'd like to take you
to heaven's vices
inside my den
with walls made of flesh
Up the ladder:
G-Spot Blues.
Down the ladder:
Originality
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.5
Posted: March 13, 2003 10:18 PM PST; Last modified: March 13, 2003 10:18 PM PSTWeighted score: 5.0596013 Overall Rank: 6674 Comments:
What should i bring as a sacrifice? PIG! pork, is the squealmeat of the future. Jews and ragheads just don't get it my dark queen.
I'm not sure what being Jewish or Muslim has to do with it.
...and by the way, I'm an occasional "raghead" myself. The proper term for it is "hijabi", someone who wears hijab. Though generous with my friends, on the street it is prudent at times to make a point of one's selectivity.
kthulah, you are my new heroine.
::blush::
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Let's see... you use 'that' twice in the first two lines. If you change the second 'that' to 'the', it would repeat in the second stanza which would add some coherence(your word not mine).
'special' is a word that means absolutely nothing at all, particulary in poetry, what makes it special? That's what you need to tell the reader.
Again the unnecessary use of the word 'that'
"The sudden 'entrance' of air you gasp" is awkward and needs to be re-phrased.
Heaven's vices? How do you take someone to a vice, no matter where it might be located?
Den with walls made of flesh. That's just a plainly awful line. The image doesn't seduce, it's actually on the repulsive side. "Den" alone would work, but "with walls of flesh"? Try using an adjective for walls if you must keep it.
You are apparently squeezing your partners body part(s) inside some orifice. That's how your 'poem' comes across. More Gray's Anatomy than Erotica.
The poem was intended to come across exactly as you said...squeezing his penis with my vagina. There are few ways of describing it that wouldn't be too formal to get the message across to one who is somewhat blunt...the inspiration for this poem.
Perhaps you expect too much of poetry. It's not always about lofty subjects. Sometimes it's just about a woman's lust for a man who doesn't mince words. Since he doesn't, I didn't either.
the arguement to keep things direct is a viable one, and I understand what you're saying, it makes sense, but this idea that too much is expected is ridiculous, don't you think? Some poems are good, some are bad, some can be made better.
Personally I hate poetry about lofty subjects, I'm not one for sitting around figuring out how many angels fit on the head of a pin, boring as hell and holds no bearing on anything. I still believe 'special' could be replaced with something more personal, without losing any of the raw directness, and walls made of flesh, really...that's just so vulgar it's juvenile.
As far as the vulgarity, this is relative, and a matter of your personal moral code, not the quality of the poem.
The rhythm is sound, and it gets the desired message across. If you have a problem with the nature of my vagina not as a flaccid receiver, but as a dynamic part of my body, then you are going to have a great many personal problems with a good deal of my poetry...and none of it will help you as a critic.
So my personal advice for your personal problem is do more Kegel exercises. When you're well on your way in that, talk to some long standing decent courtesans, for the fine tuning (learning to flex the various areas at will, and honing automatic reactions as a sort of reward factor for the man hitting the right spots, as well as how to deal with the "baboon lips" soreness that you'll get once you're very developed, if you haven't had the shaft in a week or two) and then come back and read this poem then.
When your vagina is like a nice place to visit, with spectacular events, you'll understand it...and this is not to brag. It is an easily attainable goal for most women. It's just a matter of practice.
You'll be old fashioned Chinese guy worthy when you can do 1000+ reps in succession.
to be honest, I agree with gw, the last part comes off greasy. Why don't you play with something along the lines of:
my other mouth
a [something] of flesh
so do I get an invitation?
--spoon in the coffee, stir with the cup-- (can't remember the exact saying)
Are you from that part of Indonesia?
I meant "special" as in unique to that particular moment (when he's overwhelmed).
As far as the [something], I supposed burrow, rucksack, and a few other orifice implying words would work as far as rhythm, but they wouldn't have quite the same implications as "den".
"lion's den"
"den of iniquity"
"pool table in the den"
I've heard the "stir with the cup" saying before, but from a Chinese lady. I am not Indonesian. I'm an American of mixed ethnicity, but politically identified as Black.
I have no problem with your poem, the nature of your vagina, or the vagina as a dynamic part of the body. It's really quite ironic because last August when I started participating on this site I got into my first arguement over this very subject. I was defending my pussy along these very same lines, so I feel thanks to you I have come full circle.
Let me apologize for offending you... I'm truly sorry. I only meant to say that I think you're poem could be a little more specific; for example in that last line of you could somehow introduce some of the knowledge or power of your vagina, instead of merely saying 'walls of flesh' that would really be something.
Again, I'm sorry I started this off on the wrong foot, I've been going through a rough spot lately and unfortunately I am only human, and full of frailties, one of them being inconsiderate at times, please accept my apology.
You didn't get into an argument on this subject in August. You jumped into a discussion about whether Legolas was a pussy with a series of completely off-topic monologues on gender identity in today's modern society because you didn't understand what the discussion was about. When I mentioned how off-topic they were, you flipped. Is that what you meant by "argument on this very subject"?
I'll keep these comments for the record, and delete any that she makes on my poetry in the future. I'd advise that you and others do the same.
The pattern:
1. Stupid comment.
2. Response to her stupid comment.
3. Justification of her comment with something even more stupid.
4. Response...
5. Pity garnering, but peppered with more stupid comments.
6. Argument about built up stupidity and resentment from others who've been sucked into her game, ensues.
It's a classic case of vamping. Don't indulge it. I won't be from here on.
as we see nicely clarified here
criticism to punt
just haul out your cunt
and crush it to a cervical smear
Once upon a time there was a Old Hag who happened upon a discussion about pussies. The -=Darkest_Angel-of-All=- used the Sacred Word to define some lowly inhabitant's cowardess, and the Old Witch cackled that she could crack a walnut between her lips and spit out the meat. Meaning it was an unfair and erroneous analogy to compare a weakling to the inequivicable powers of the female genitalia.
After that I'm lost. I remember hemaphrodites and some back and forth about peni vs. clitori. I'm old and mentally fatigued. If you have a transcript of this discourse I would appreciate a copy. As I have said, my memory is rotten with age, though my vagina is supple and fully intact.
I thank you in advance for your cooperation.
NOTE TO SELF: Stay the fuck away from god'swife's vagina, no matter how pretty her words are. Sirene!
http://www.poemranker.com/poem-details.j
You made one comment that it was inappropriate to use the word 'pussy' as an analogy for 'weak', which should have alerted all of us straight away, since that was never how I used it.
The argument proper was about whether genitals could be male or female. By the end you were still under the delusion that we were talking about sexuality. Perhaps now you have matured enough to admit you were wrong.