cerealinabox.blogspot.com
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My love is my love
Posted: December 22, 2009, 3:33 pm by cerealinabox
My loves skin is glazed with honey,
I lick it off her tummy,
Her body is adorned with tasty trinkets,
My love is a bundle of sweetness.
My love does not walk,
She glides and glades,
Her dress blows in the wind,
As her feet kiss and peck the earth,
My love is a poem in motion.
My loves lips drip with nectar,
Her tongue is like a King,
Bathing in the divine waters of her mouth,
My loves mouth is an oasis of love.
My loves face is a work of art,
A rose in bloom,
A sunrise in the spring,
Like the moon,
My love glows in heavenly awe.
My loves body is like a sculpture,
Curved, polished, tweaked to perfection,
Her stomach like a chocolate colored balloon,
I so want to bite.
Her gaze is soft, warm and bright.
Her smile luminescent,
My love is my love,
And she is all mine.
……….CerealiNaBoX…©2009 -
A Cheetah Named woods
Posted: December 17, 2009, 2:01 pm by cerealinabox
I once heard of a dude,
whos name was woods.
he had a suave swag,
and a strong swing to boot,
he loved ladies in suits and those in boots,
and had chics in every hood,
his style was smooth,
and his tastes good.
all was well till his wife knew,
she gave him the boot and kicked out poor woods
now quit golf he should,
to tend to his bruised wife and brood.
that's the sad story of a cheetah name woods.
………Cereal iN a BoX…© 2009 -
Dug out
Posted: December 15, 2009, 2:25 am by Kuro Hana
These are the ramblings of the soulless poet, the grumblings of the stomach on an airy diet, the absence of sense that plagues this once intense mind which must now come to terms with the evanescence of it's worth. The life blood seeps into the earth and is lost at a cost that most would dismiss as necessary and probably write off this poet as legendary; a murderer's eulogy. But that doesn't bother me, really; I have been unable to see reality for years, blinded by these black tears, numb to all the attacks and jeers of the populous; this poet is not popular, shunned by both the secular and the religious. Conforming to the non-conformists and informing the outcasts, my words are known to cast a dark shadow on the shallow joys of life, love and all its mysteries. Bringing to light the ugly truth and all its miseries. Maybe I should stop sharing my life stories. I'm not holy, but wholly distance myself from sin, call me a clean freak, it's evident when I speak. Though the darkness sometimes may leak, I'm only human; my person still needs a tweak to be close to perfection. That may render me more capable of affection and endear me to the population as a normal person ought. But this status sought seeks to elude the poet whose attitude is run by her continuous feud with the masses. Through painted glasses, I lie forlorn not willing to engage in the tragedy of the commons that is 21st century 'living'. The pen-strokes grow weaker and the verses seem bleaker with every chapter. Glowing happiness is replaced by hollow laughter as the question grows louder. 'Why?' As this life drags out, this poet feels drugged out and prays to be dug out of this tar pit. I grope for solid land... hoping yours is the outstretched hand. -
THIS IS LUST, NOT LOVE
Posted: December 14, 2009, 5:33 pm by cerealinabox
This aint love,
this aint no huggy huggy,
cuddly cuddly,
luvy duvy,
wushy wushy,
murshy murshy non-sense,
This is pure unadurated lust,
This is me being primal,
this is me being an animal,
this is lust.
This is me baring my teeth and growling at you,
this is me wanting to tear your clothes off,
this is me wanting you and you wanting me just as bad.
this is me sniffing at you,
taking in every whiff in a single breath,
this is me wanting to taste you,
yearning to lick you clean with my tongue.
saliva drooling from the corners of my mouth,
you looking at me like scared prey,
me relishing the feast.
This is about me ravaging you like a hungry wolf,
going at you like a mad beast,
tearing your soft flesh.
This is me enjoying your shallow breaths,
this is me ignoring your whimpers
and cries for mercy.
This is about me eating to my fill,
about ridding off my urges,
quenching a thirst for blood.
And when am done,
prey sprawled before me,
quivering for life,
its eyes a glassy haze,
I will step back,
thump my chest in victory,
and collapse into your arms.
Sweety,
don't confuse this with love,
this is lust baby!
………Cereal iN a BoX…© 2009 -
Hollow Inside
Posted: December 9, 2009, 5:11 pm by cerealinabox
Like a balloon that's been burst,
am deflated.
like a drained wine glass,
I only talk about my past.
like an empty refrigerator,
am wasting energy.
Like an extinguished incinerator,
my fire is gone.
Like a formatted disk,
am blank.
Am like a bone with no marrow,
a bow with no arrows,
a candle with no matchsticks,
or a bucket with no mopstick,
i feel hollow
eaten from the inside,
empty.
………Cereal iN a BoX…© 2009
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From Then
Posted: December 4, 2009, 8:52 pm by cerealinabox
Blah blah blah
Fish cakes
Alas a fish cake.
Yet more fish cakes
Guess what ... yeah ... fish cakes.
The end of the fish cakes
