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 Category:  Humor Poetry
  Posted: August 28, 2017      Views: 105

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 ABOUT
TRIMPLE 

Married to an artist and have two grown children (a pigeon pair) and two beautiful grandchildren, Isabella and Abigail.

I Love making things from old junk.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez is my favorite writer. I just love the way he manages - more...

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contest entry
"wet dream" by trimple


'Is the doctor there?' I asked again...
'Is he busy now? Has he been detained?'
A vacant face is all I saw...
as I wandered the fluorescent, corridor...

Then I saw a moth in tumbled clothes,
behind the dusty shade, she rose.
A sacrifice she yearned to win
as she hurried like a tortured heroine.

And deep into this hall of flame
that ran along each room; the same.
From up above the Fluorescent light
I smelled the ashes of a bogus, appetite.

So there I looked and there I stood
beneath this moonless: robbing hood
I wondered at this dreary sight
and questioned; why's the moon so cruel at night?

Then just before all hell broke loose
I saw a sign say-- 'Out Of Use.'
 A bladder's tear went on the run
so I legged it before the mayhem had begun...

In haste, I pulled my panties tight
in vain to stem the flow, in spite
of a sudden gush as my bladder sighed--
"I think your sphincters' on the brink of suicide..."

A panic came. A panic went.
Now doubled up; my bladder bent...
I couldn't wait a moment more
the piddle heading downward; mopped the floor.

A patch of wet. A pool of piss.
A warm and comfy state of bliss...
This overwhelming comfort zone,
disrupted, by a nosey, telephone...





 

Poets Choice II-No Disqualification contest entry
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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