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Thread: American sexx

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Nov 2003

    Default American sexx

    from across the floor
    crowded by dancers
    an electric floor
    think john travolta
    as tony manero
    they exchanged looks
    first his; a glance
    and if not a glance; a gesture
    of hyper indifference
    an exaggerated stare
    of disconcert...
    then hers; a solemn gaze
    and if not solemn
    then call it contempt
    and then nothing, for an
    hour or more
    then suddenly in unison
    they approached one another
    he, in a hopscotch fashion
    looking like a poptart
    freed from its cage
    her, crawling with one foot
    in the air
    like a dog fixing to piss
    him; like a harlem daughter
    in a sidewalk show
    minus the corn rows
    and cool finesse..
    then they meet at the center
    the music was jammimg;
    rock the boat by hues corporation
    "I'm mike" he stroked her hair
    she swatted his hand
    "I'm carol, goodbye!"
    and then ten years pass...
    mike has children, a wife
    three neat boys
    and the wife dies
    (or we're left to assume)
    carol has two three
    two real cute..the other Jan
    their father left…
    made one right and kept on going
    and the carol and mike
    on a night like that
    (the one I just mentioned)
    met at the discotechue
    and humped in the bathroom
    but it wasn't that fast...
    first they danced..
    and then they drank
    mike had rye and carol had scotch
    then mike put his thumb
    in carol's ass
    at first she got mad
    but then she got excited
    so she gave mike head
    then they humped by a toilet
    …and that's the way
    they became the BRADY BUNCH

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Jan 2009


    Quote Originally Posted by Stephen_Pearcy View Post
    You weren't thinking, you were feeling it, baby, and that's what you need to do, just grab on to that lightning bolt and ride it through the sky, letting the wind blow through your hair and rip your clothes to shreds, aw, man, that'd be fuckin hot, tattered T hanging over T-Tay, ooooo, man, just feel it, baby, yeah, that's what I'm saying, daddy needs a new calendar for his motorcycle garage

  3. #3


    The form of explaining "him, then her" back and forth imitates the manner in which the opening credits explain the story (except the show does her first). The rest of it didn't do much for me, but nice fanfic.

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Nov 2003


    blow me, Cuntplum


    a spontaneous ode to spontaneous confusion, not open to criticism

    He was a right gift to the world
    like a good void
    decaying to open the future
    like Sputnik
    drowning in the village pool
    like afros pumped with plasticine gods
    He was pungent/sacred/post-coital angry
    and Arthur, because you know too well,
    the sorrow & immediately often & after Me,
    the pesky "Another"
    the one and only true ruse
    with its intricate semblance.
    yet vastly unknown,
    the orb in your doorbell
    is alive !
    ...eating bing cherries
    and mocking the knocker
    that's nailed to your door
    he's spitting the pits in your shoes
    why are you shoes on the stoop???????
    because…STOP..don't answer
    I don’t care about your shoes..I'm just saying
    I am confused..emoted..heinous & lofty!
    like taffy nipples
    like fraudulent caresses
    across typical titties
    I'm adorably crafty in the winter
    or so they tell me
    or like experience slow-drawing
    from a snow packed pipe
    and billows of dreams to unfurl...
    into the ether
    particles exploring their inward matters
    paths of colors
    …..well, not exactly!
    & when Specific felt emotional, i danced
    with precision
    that's crafty..winter or not <-- who asked you?!?!
    you did!
    & when Sincerity listened, I moped
    in the vapors
    there's a cosmic troubadour
    longing for meadows
    and a slouching anomaly that sleeps
    in my haircut
    all true!!
    all Me !! <-- not true, the anomaly is Arthur
    how right you be! but fuck you too!
    stay out of my poem and let me be!
    and so They left; uptight & vaguely rational,
    on unicycles..
    on vehicles used for capital punishment
    ...Chevy Chevettes & Dodge Omnis
    AMC Hornets & pinto beans
    that's not a car!?!?! <--fuck you I'm hungry
    every so often I event
    my down responses,
    boring the blanket above us;
    revealing a Spirit's eye,
    blind to its own heritage..below
    for Utterance, like responses,
    one's relationship fears the only outcome
    so that queerity suspends this longing
    & the sounds of chimneys
    deploying a signal
    ………..calling for orgy
    calling to offer you a new subscription
    to the New York Times
    to the Dream Association of Free Trade <-- who subscribes to that?
    Benjamin Peret…and Mister Rogers
    before he died and left us lonely
    but your weakness becomes my umbrella
    spade that otter! neuter that weasel!
    & that some "body up" like emotional computers
    like here & abound , cyborgs explore
    in backwards fashion, they snake through operas
    like overt phantoms - like pendulous erections
    and if editors too verbal to replicate gestures
    endorse their feelings for silver pencils
    a human document is sadly avoided
    evaded movements move to "another"
    the rollercoaster is now null & void….
    what does that mean?
    ask Arthur - it's his theory
    ….but not now. this my poem
    the web of uncertainty stretches the plains
    buy Eureka buy Eureka!
    a vacuum cleaner is a tool of survival
    & if we're left to clean up their babka
    & if surges of lethargy cavort; urgency shrivels!
    a simple emotion undoes the frequency!
    cameras in the ether crumble
    ….like a new rain
    like a rain that captures the corruption
    in clouds! in eyeballs surrounding
    the government mountains!
    captures the essence of a dying world
    then call on Eureka
    1- 800 - WE EUREKA
    operators are standing by
    the cooler
    the toilet waiting for a splatter
    oh diarrhea! oh government luncheons
    I'm learning to think like an abstract Moyle
    stitch that penis! park that Honda
    somebody pinch me…I love my Toyota!

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Sep 2004
    tin pan alley


    I really do like your writings, Harnk. Haha, in regards to the first, I wish that was how it really went down.

    The second feels like I've been watching commercials all day long.

  6. #6


    Yeah, what I said was hardly criticism but keep get more defensive.

  7. #7
    Join Date
    Nov 2003


    Quote Originally Posted by Abel View Post
    Yeah, what I said was hardly criticism but keep get more defensive.
    you're rather transparent, boyo.

    it'd be easier if you just put your cards on the table, to avoid this exhausting foreplay.


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