The 'I Love Tzara' Thread

Tz, I appreciate your help, your encouragement, your edits and feedback and especially enjoy reading your poems. I'm glad you are here, still.
 
I hope these eulogies don't mean Tzara's had something befall him or worse!:eek:

A man usually has to pay for such compliments.:rolleyes:
 
I hope these eulogies don't mean Tzara's had something befall him or worse!:eek:

A man usually has to pay for such compliments.:rolleyes:

Hey sexy-beast. Good to see you! I am still waiting for my payment to appear on my paypal account.
 
I hope these eulogies don't mean Tzara's had something befall him or worse!:eek:

A man usually has to pay for such compliments.:rolleyes:
Actually, I hacked Literotica, and am writing all these comments myself.
 
I am still waiting for my payment to appear on my paypal account.
Oops. I thought you meant PlayPal.

Guess I'd better put the licorice whip away.

whip_it.gif
 
Ah,
Billy-boy
ya seemed to 'ave

vanished

can the PFD be far behind, without it's leading light?

if case you wander in
when is a cliché (a tired overused metaphor) not a cliché?

when it IS the freakin thing.

what is ABABABCC for 100+pages

an Oct-
Tet offensive

Seriously I'm reading
The Duplications

half way though, what an I missing?

PS - I love you too
 
Seriously I'm reading
The Duplications
half way though, what an I missing?

PS - I love you too
You're probably missing nothing, I would guess.
It's just a silly poem—a kind of play
Set with ottava rima's proper stress,
Like Byron dissing Southey. Come what may,
It isn't Art, just Long. But I digress,
And mine is just "opinion," anyway.
I'd say, dear twelvie, that I love you too,
Save that that sounds like pigeons pitching woo

And pigeons shouldn't pitch, because alarm
Spontaneously overtakes our bored
And restive audience. Instead, let's charm
These metaphor-drenched brains with—zut, alors
Some writing writ poetic! Let's not harm
This harmless, though concupiscent, verse horde
With tasteless witticisms or debates.
They're here for cocks and cunts and getting laid.

And so I charge you: Lay them verbally,
With lusty skill. Verisimilitude
Is not wanted, just superstimuli
To make Tinbergen blush, and attitude
To spare—whips, chains, some flexibility
Of form, and always, always, lots of lube.
For this is Literotica, you know.
Here, poems should not the prurient forego.
 
I'd never seen this thread before, so naturally, I had to peek in. My, my, what adoring fans you have. I have to say, a man who owns a licorice whip, and can be inspired by a pair of Loubous deserves a little attention.

:rose: x 12


P.S. If you're going to wear chaps while brandishing a confectionary whip, sans jeans is a better look. Just sayin'. Keep the spurs though. ;)
 
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