Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty

 

~

 

Introducing Debbie

 

~

 

For Debbie the moment is now.

There may be anticipation

For a future event, such as dessert,

But I'm skeptical of even that.

Every moment is a choice

Of sensations, and she will always

Choose the more pleasurable.

This makes her happy. This

Makes Debbie a fourteen 

Year old child, one that will smack

Johnny upside the head

If that would amuse her, or

Let him ejaculate inside her, either way.

Debbie is a happy presence 

On the ward, but a handful

For the staff. If she isn't visible,

She's off in corner with Pooh's 

Jar of honey, dipping with both hands.

Debbie is oversized for her age.

The thrift store dresses they find

For her are too short, too tight,

Hips and bosom spilling over,

But oh so easy to lift up. That girl

Likes to feel good, and who doesn't?

Debbie's default expression

Is bemusement, but she can do

A great, girl, whachu talkin bout?

And turn on her heels

With the best of them, leaving 

Your last word hanging in mid-air

Like a stone waiting to drop.

Her ability for guileless innocence

Is equally evident, a request

For cooperation is met with a smile,

But has no effect. None.

Is she a Buddhist or a Hedonist?

Neither, she is the ward's kitten,

Purring, always to be found 

In the warmest, coziest corner

Doing exactly as she pleases.

 

 

~





Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 366 times
Written on 2015-07-18 at 06:03

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Naughty Debbie. I can see her getting herself and others in trouble :)
2015-07-20


Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
It is a good poem, which I liked a lot

Elle x
2015-07-18


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Very nice!
2015-07-18



Oh, dear sweet Debbie. I knew one just like her too. The counselors had to install a bell on her bedroom door to wake them up when one of the boys tried to sneak into her room at night, and we would all wake up. Poor counselors! I never realized how hard their job was. We were all too hurt to think about them. All the damaged children! Someone should write a song. You are writing our story.
_Ashe
2015-07-18