Hidden Something
something that you promise not to see
again
the tongue hides within the mouth
it will not taste this again
the eyes roll
eyelids close as the scene is
repeated
it is about another form
of tongue-in-cheek
the mouth says something that it does not mean
the brain understands perfectly
like the heart
and so here it is again
viewed for the nth time
this time the conscience is numb
it says
another lie
it comes back again
savoring
what it says it hates
what it believes is too unlikely of its being
but what can you do
here it is again
mutually salivating
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Allegro Comodo
a word from you, then you stop
something choppy
i like to listen more from you
another word, cut into half
i am having a hard time
figuring out what is there
with you that wants to hold
me, i stop to listen again,
some scratches from your
tongue, some gnashing from
your teeth, i am listening still,
some more words, more of
pauses, like some commas
are constructed by you on
purpose, i am tired in this,
i am impatient, you stretch
your arms to reach me again,
as i go nearer tapping my ears,
for you, yet there is this
suppression of meaning,
i am listening still, you
close your eyes and then
open them, this time some
tears fall, like ripe drops
of rain from dark clouds,
i see, your heart is broken
and your mind cannot
understand perfectly,
your mouth haggles
with words that your
tongue cannot form
simply because love is always misunderstood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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383
a word from you, then you stop
something choppy
i like to listen more from you
another word, cut into half
i am having a hard time
figuring out what is there
with you that wants to hold
me, i stop to listen again,
some scratches from your
tongue, some gnashing from
your teeth, i am listening still,
some more words, more of
pauses, like some commas
are constructed by you on
purpose, i am tired in this,
i am impatient, you stretch
your arms to reach me again,
as i go nearer tapping my ears,
for you, yet there is this
suppression of meaning,
i am listening still, you
close your eyes and then
open them, this time some
tears fall, like ripe drops
of rain from dark clouds,
i see, your heart is broken
and your mind cannot
understand perfectly,
your mouth haggles
with words that your
tongue cannot form
simply because love is always misunderstood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As A Matter Of Sustenance
as a matter of survival
the last bite of the chocolate
tongue need not be
delicious to the tongue.
you let it roll inside your
mouth, let the tongue relish
it a bit, till it melts there.
this is senselessly
numbing, such sweet
taste of life, and then
this emptiness of the
mouth, needing a fill
for a glassful of water.
this is senseless,
there is no more meaning
for the filling up and the
emptying, except the hands
that keep on running and
running meaningfully on
the keys, listening merely
to the sound of words,
and nothing more, there
is this senseless search
for an understanding this
logicality, this madness
for reason, the heart aches
in shame, unable to accept
the ease of an explanation.
let it be, let the eyes shed
tears, let the flesh tremble,
till darkness comes, till the
silence of the stars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tongues
the tongue
of my body
is in the nerves
the tongue
of my soul
in the heart
the tongue of
my mind
in the head
the tongue
of truth and deceits
in the mouth
the tongue of
the World (Creation)
in the words
of God
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Bound
I place your words in my mouth
roll them around with my tongue
trying to taste each syllable
Savor each flavor
like a perfectly grilled steak
They fill up my cup with trust
I run my fingertips over each letter's curve
Undressing them with my eyes
and suck the life out of them
They stoke the fire within me
Bring me back to life
Break though my pain
Make me feel I might love again
And right before I fling off
the casket lid
the smell of my rotting flesh
reminds me that
I am being mauled by lies.
poem by Sara Fielder
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Kissing is a rehearsal.
I managed to kiss her on lips.
Lips unlocked, my tongue slipped in.
It darted through lips and about
Her mouth, touching her tongue on tip
Then at bottom and at corners,
Sucking the tongue and swallowing the juice
Till she got fire at her bottom.
Resistance gone, she surrendered.
Kissing is just a rehearsal.
Her mouth stands for her lower one.
Man's tongue stands for his under part.
The tongue signals the man's prowess.
09.08.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rememberless
She fixed me with those large Devotion Eyes
my psyche paralyzed by those liquid lights
which reside there twinkle-flashing into me.
They read deep
until I have to reach to see
where inside those eyes have touched me
again.
She moved toward me
never looking away;
I'm hypnotized and she knows
I'll not be able to move or breath
until she reaches inside my personal space
inches away
from her juicy mouth
apple-red
and satiny.
My insides plead
for them to kiss me
but she
does not-
she bites my lip instead-
her breasts sailing into the harbor
that is my arms
abutting my wharf
anchoring;
her nipples spreading
into my slip;
ripples of her slow breathing
rustle from her cotton-candy mouth
dissolving mine;
my tongue now sugar sweet.
Her lips soften
slide gently into me
soft tongue to tongue
the two dancing.
I cannot move.
She inhales and all of my breath is gone.
I exhale across her collar bone
where my mouth dives to clef between;
rushing down to rounded-mound
and then to her sister one
and nipple taut
she breaths again
allowing it to blush-
becoming more erect inside my quivering mouth.
Each time
it is a kiss only;
only a kiss.
Each time
I remember
an instant late
before it all absorbs me again
each time consumed after first fixed
by those liquid eyes
and her candy mouth.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Sonnet: The Tongue
Tongue, the muscle belly in the mouth’s floor!
That grandmothers used to narrate folklore;
With sensors to taste the food that we eat,
And speak fluently with neighbors who cheat.
The boneless tongue gives creatures satiety;
In misdemeanor, speaks words so nasty;
The tongue-tied man cannot speak out too well;
The one with a long tongue argues like hell.
The tongue can emit both a soothing word,
And also cut like a double-edged sword;
The tongue helps one to sing a sweet song,
And touch one’s nose-tip whenever too long.
The tongue can start a war or conclude it;
Some stars use it for their kissing habit.
poem by John Celes
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The Chocolate Experience
The day I laid my eyes on you
the very first time
was tempted to try you,
mouth salivating,
a tongue could taste you from afar
Heard alot of things about it,
that chocolate experience, the taste
Even heard about the powers,
snaped me right out of a depression,
how it intimidated me, empowered me.
All these wonderful sensations.
I had no control over,
should I watch tv, pamper myself,
go out and wish I followed my first choice
for the moment, I would feel that way
I knew what it was like without you,
loneliness would set in
hard times, pms days, bad hair days, anytime of the day, any hour
You are my Sweet Sensation
a fondue for my strawberries
White Chocolate, Dark Chocolate,
Caramel, Taffy, Fudge, Chocolate Martini,
Expresso, Coffee, Lattte to name a few
Fill me with my heart's desire
Give me my chocolate experience
and see what else it can do?
poem by Adrienne Clark Strachn
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I Am Your Child
Released on the japanese version of euphoria.
Was it something I did
Was it something I said
Was the vision you had
Just a voice in your head
Can you run through the flames
Can you see through the haze
Is this the end of your world
Or just one of your days
Ive yet to taste it on my tongue
I get so dangerous on my own
I am your child, the one you need
The love you crave, the mouth you feed
The more you give, the more I take
I am your child, I could be your last mistake
Would you call it untrue
Would you call it a sin
With the burden of proof
Breathing under my skin
Like a ghost from the past
Im the face in the crowd
And the name that you scream
When youre dreaming out loud
Ive yet to taste it on my tongue
I get so dangerous on my own
I am your child, the one you need
The love you crave, the mouth you feed
The more you give, the more I take
I am your child, I could be your last mistake
Ive yet to taste it on my tongue
I get so dangerous on my own
I am your child, the one you need
The love you crave, the mouth you feed
The more you give, the more I take
I am your child, I could be your last mistake
I am your child, the one you need
The love you crave, the mouth you feed
The more you give, the more I take
I am your child, I could be your last mistake
I am your child, I could be your last mistake
I am your child, I could be your last mistake
I am your child, I could be your last mistake
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Devotion Eyes
She fixed me with those large Devotion Eyes
my psyche paralyzed by those liquid lights
which twinkle-flash into me.
They read deep
until I have to reach to see
where inside those eyes have touched me
physically.
She moves toward me
never looking away;
I'm hypnotized and she knows
I'll not be able to move or breathe
until she reaches my inside personal space
inches away
from her juicy mouth,
apple-red
and satiny.
My insides plead
for them to kiss me
but she
does not-
she bites my lip instead-
her breasts sailing into the harbor
that is my arms
abutting my wharf
anchoring;
her nipples spreading
into my slip;
ripples of her slow breathing
rustle from her cotton-candy mouth
dissolving mine;
my tongue now sugar sweet.
Her lips soften,
slide gently into me,
soft tongue to tongue;
the two dancing.
I cannot move.
She inhales and all of my breath is gone.
I exhale across her collar bone
where my mouth dives to the clef between;
rushing down to rounded-mound
and then to her sister one
and nipple taut
she breaths again
and I make it blush-
becoming more erect inside my quivering mouth.
Each time
it is a kiss only;
only a kiss.
Each time
I remember
an instant too late
before it all absorbs me again;
each time consumed after first fixed
by those liquid eyes
and her candy mouth-
I stagger forth from it all
rememberless.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Screw
When you screw up your eyes
When you screw up your face
When you throw out your arms
And keep changing your shape
Taste the taste in your mouth
Taste the taste on your tongue
On the film on your eyes of what i've become
What do i do when you screw up your eyes?
What do i do when you screw up your face?
What do i do
When you throw out your arms
Fall on the floor
And keep changing your shape?
Jump right into your mouth?
Jump around on your tongue?
And the film on your eyes of the way i've become
Makes me sick at the way that i try
Anything in the world
To impress that i'm doing this
Only for you
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Olive Eater.
And oh
she said
she was always
saying that
he thought
watching her place
an olive in her mouth
and oh
she repeated
this is not
what I expected it
to taste like at all
and she licked
two of her fingers
one after the other
and quite sexually
he mused
sitting opposite her
in the French cafe
taking in
her bright eyes
and the openness
of her mouth
and the tongue licking
and she said
I thought it’d have been sharper
more exciting
more out of this world
and he thought
how simple she is
how childlike
in her expression
and in the way she utters
her words
and she looked at him
and said
what are you thinking?
What’s going on
in that bright brain of yours?
And he said
oh that would be telling
wouldn’t it
that would be
allowing you
into my head
and she laughed
and sat there
with her wet fingers
just before him
as she waited
to pluck another
olive off the plate
and he allowed his eyes
to settle like butterflies
on her breasts
just momentarily
just sufficiently
to drink in
the beauty there
and she said
do you want one?
Do you want an olive
to eat or suck?
No no
he said
and thought
I’d like another
fresh fruit
to touch
and pluck.
poem by Terry Collett
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Literary Tongue
at first i like the hands
those huge hands to cover the whole of my cold body
and then i begin to like the fingers
those that crawl and make my body warm
those that fill the orifice of my emptiness
those that caress my hair
and travel from my nose to my mouth
to my neck to the last tip of my toes
and then i like the mouth too
with its tongue that speak about gentleness
and make me a little bit heated
and brave
and then i am finally stuck with the tongue
the surrogate part of of them all
it speaks
it licks
it travels from the tip of my hair to the tip of my toe
and then it stops
hides inside the walls of my teeth and gums
and stay in the house of my mouth
it also knows
when to stop and just be alone and silent
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside The Moviehouse
inside the movie house
my lips are drying because it is so
cold in here, but with you
i get myself moistened up
with your constant flow
of salive from your
mouth to my mouth
tongue to tongue
i close my eyes to get
the picture of you sitting
on my lap my extra large sausage
rising up from its ruins
you rain on my valley
wetting my grass and
my cliffs have waterfalls
flowing steadily
there is this forest fire
and there are no firemen coming....
i know the title of the movie
but i cannot really remember the details
of the story..
and i don't blame you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The fruits on the table
I love the papayas
Spread on the table
Reddish orange papayas
Plump and Smooth to my
Hands
And some purple grapes
Sweet pulp
Luscious to my
Lips
Some rambutans
Hairy fruits in red
Tickling to my
Fingers
Pungent durian
Tasting like
Heaven to
My mind
They are all spread on
The table
And I would caress smooth
Reddish papayas with
My bare hands
Put a grape in my mouth
And my tongue
Does the savoring of
Juicy rambutans
My lips close in
To a juicy roundness
As I breathe on some
Red hairs
Of this magical luscious fruit
The durian is opened
And the taste of heaven
Comes to my mind
With eyes closed as
Though I own all the passions
Of this world
When we were young and
Crazy about ourselves
I laid her on the table
And spread herself there
She was all those kinds of
Fruits to me and I was the
Hands, the mouth, the lips,
The tongue
The stomach that swallowed her all
Every bit that was juicy
Every freshness every plumpness
She was all fruits to me
She was all nature giving in, all over
To the passions of this fruit lover.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blood On The Ground
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my heart I swear
Ive tried everything I could
Within all my power
2 weeks and 1 hour
I slaved and now
Ive got nothing to show
Oh if only youve grown
Taller than a brick wall
From now on
Gonna start holding my breath
When you
Come around and
You flex that fake grin
cause something inside me has
Said more than twice
That breathing this air
Beats breathing you at all
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my mouth
Im earning the right
To my silence
In quiet discerning
Between ego and timing
Good judgment is once again
Proving to me
That its still worth
Its weight in gold
From now on Im gonna be
So much more weary
When you start to speak and
My warm blood starts to boil
Seeing you is like pulling teeth
And hearing your voice
Is like chewing tin foil
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Im fast to a better judgment
By saying less today
I will gain more, gain more
No cheers to you my
My fickle friend
You, you brought
The art of silent war
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sick
Sick 'I cannot go to school today,'
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
'I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue -
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke -
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my spine is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is -
what? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is ... Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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As If Never!
your mouth tembles,
cannot form the word love;
your body storms,
breaking windows and doors.
your hands sweat,
your eyes close, and open.
the embers deep,
sputter, and flame...
beyond your control,
your winds laps it's tongue,
just for a taste,
for one stolen moment.
the earth stops turning,
poles begin to shift...
and mountains, cities, and
rivers swallowed in an instant...
as if never!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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It Is Poetic And Prophetic
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'I see the holes in shoes.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Those shoes have not been used.
Since many are afraid of walking.
But talk about nonsense,
They choose to do.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
It could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Lips flap flip flop so much.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Flipping lips lick ears to touch,
With venom spiced and nothing nice to say...
Yet quick to pick from empty pockets.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
'Woe goes the mogul to spend from thieving.
Wishing to steal more.
To take and not to give.
Or...
Sympathize with those begging.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'I see the holes in shoes.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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