Promote yourself.

 

 

 

Promote yourself…for some people this seems to be the easiest thing for them, they run out into the streets screaming, hey, look at me, see what I created. Their ego’s filling with air till they hit the point of magnificence, and too these people I say well done!

i’m more of a, yeah i’ll self promote tommorrow, today i’ll write instead, or look or feel or sleep, eat or simply breathe. In fact promoting myself was still for me a distant dream, until a few days back when http://flippyzipflop.wordpress.com/ , suggested I take a look at poetreecreations.org. I let the idea settle for a few days. Self promotion is a big thing, in my opinion, life is not a yo yo you can’t self promote today and do nothing tomorrow, it’s a massive commitment toward your dream, and once as you get on that round about, you just can’t scream ‘stop, I wanna get off.’

So this is the first step in my decision to go forward and self promote my words to the entire world (outside of writing a blog, which is of course its very own form of self promotion.) I’ve made the choice and the commitment will follow, I promise, to myself that I will self promote my words, each and every day, I will endeavour to push myself as far out into this messed up world as my toes can go.

My ‘promote yourself’ post can be found here, go look, and please, please feel free to rate the poem and like it of course!

http://poetreecreations.org/2014/07/22/twin-flame-i-see-you-burning-promote-yourself/

The world needs to hear the voices of the poets, see the images we can create with our words, and feel, the world desperately needs to start feeling the magnificence of poetry.

Thanks

 

Blossom xxxx

 

Dear Mr Bus driver.

summer holidays 047

I sometimes wonder,

as you drift past me,

that knowing

twinkle in those

grey eyes,

if

you ever

knew

that

I was

using

you…

Month’s of hard work, perfect timings

and flirtatious banter,

all leading to that

single moment

of

pleasure.

As mindless cars

whizzed past,

driven by bored

business men

and stressed

out mothers.

As the seats fell empty,

and your

hardon

begged

to

be

set free.

Did you know?

A notch on my

metaphorical

bed post,

a seconds fantasy,

a lifetimes

day dream.

It was a game

for me,

you were the prize,

Is that a surprise?

As your hand slipped

inside my shirt,

your dick inside my mouth,

your fingers against my nipples,

my tongue along your shaft.

Your hands pinned

As I sinned,

your cum

warm

as I swallowed

it down.

I sometimes wonder

If you knew,

I was using you.