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zebra Feb 2018
she likes to dance in cemeteries naked
warring little but jeweled ***** bells,
ankle bracelets
toe rings
bingles, bangles, piercings,
through ******* and nose

her tongue split
each side wiggling independently

she gives head on a head stone
her blow jobs
like two undulating mouths
her skin inked with
black and blood tattoos that say
Satan's little ***** *****
double penetrations preferred porfavor
the more buttery big ***** and pastry puffy ******* the better


she
all purple hair tinged red
and antler horned hat
with silver toe and finger nails
a crazy saint sane
adored by the popes of the lascivious
eyes wide open over a crimson mouth sneer
cherry pout lips
gods gift to ***** and vaginas
a temple of relief exalting
Eros
a **** it bucket list of lust
her heart
cotton candy in flames
****** like a river of smashed potatoes
in cream

she like
phases of a corpse moon
begs to be used after death
like pigment on canvas
smeared red globes and chiaroscuro
she playing dead
living it up

do you know her
she keeps her secret hidden
on her sleeve
while you keep yours
from yourself

bless me father for I have sinned
and loved every minute of it
yet dare not be happy
for fear of Gods rage


my soul saved
turned fertile earth to sand
and shrouding vistas of light
till the bed is the bed
of the living dead
so there's nothin left but work and sleep
and dreams of drunken **** madness are buried
under the weight
marked forbidden

black sun curse
hips sway in ashes
a forbidden dance
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2015
the Internet sets
higher aspirations

a teaching guide,
on how to

go beyond and deep into
the fast lane's curved and wide,
stretching
the straight and narrow

longer than lasting,
lasting no longer than
memory feelings
blurred overlapping burnt edged video recordings

pores pour oil and noise,
differentiating little between
beginning ending continuous

in the mind, from the walls,
Santana Rob sings "Smooth,"
but it is
the guitar wailing controlled penetrations.
a national anthem
of driven perpetual needy fomenting
outspoken physical truths

you don't care how you
got there,
where you are,
anybody's name,
high octane high performance

*** today,
is not for
the shy and the retiring, sissies,
we all got the necessary expertise,
with violin accompanist of pharma teaching aids

recalling first time tumblings,
exhaling
deep down throated rumblings,
rushing
fumbling ******* an ****** innocence
rushes of surprise and discovery,
success of feeling successful,
the shame of miscommunications

think I'm gonna watch me
a romantic comedy,
write her a love poem,
come up from behind,
caress her *******,
kidding kissing her ear lobes,
then entering her entry point,
her neck
even when she is
armed
but forgiving,
busy chopping dinner's vegetables,

make them make them
give up the hidden
soft atonal squealing
like a
piccolo on steroids,
high pitch teasing,
pinched by air ****** intaking

I'll play the bass,
hitting those low notes,
******* my own strings,
deep ooh's and aah's
diode emitting,
the drug employed
is unadulterated
wanton but wanted
desire

this won't be the poem of the day,
no mind,
it already is was and
will be...
7:15 am/pm
wordvango Aug 2017
once then a time been a morn' shine a day grown
into a full year it seems stunningly glare-ing
me into a sudden reality
it spoke commonly about
a heart and a wink a kiss a soft shoulder
pink
on a bank of a river flowed
small animals testaments
they gathered round
for this was magical
a story of  
many textual diddy contraptions and she
was sure
me was her one
and it hearted warmed calmed me
and felt me like I needed
all surety and  conceptions with dreams
all colliding
in stardust dreams and moonbeams
with moon pies and hot coffee
and confessions
penetrations are awaiting
ears are amazing
Dee Renee Smith Nov 2012
My poetry is the embodiment
of the creator's fore knowledge of my existence.
My birth to my death are in each line
that I've laid down to lay with.

With a power my speech can not equal
my writings demand I "let there be."
Now, she's calling for me to sacrifice it
as Abraham was told to sacrifice his Seed.

Yet his requester provided a replacement
once loyalty was shown in the raised knife.
A trapped sacrifice to spare the son
from a blade raised to honor the All Mighty.

You know that I would give you anything
yet nothing has pulled my fingers away
from the plunging of blades into my eternity
with each completed writing's lifting away.

Where is my ram struggling in strong vegetation?
Where is your voice stating firmly
that I've done enough to show my heart
and that my lineage has been spared by mercy?

Inspiration tells me its receptive desires
so God must know my divine purpose in creation
is the reception of initiating penetrations
that conceives fillers of the gap between our separation.
- From InterPositioned
The Seventh Floor
By Otuogbodor, Okeibunor

He just saw her downstairs seated
She saw him pass by but noticed him
He went up to the seventh floor
She breathes the air of freshness
Freshness from home, freshness to school
His mounts of the stairs mounts hope
She sat solitary savouring that air of hope
The university,the hope shaper
The dream comber, ivory tower,
A monumental hope to mount.
One hour past, from that height
He looked down he saw her
She looked up she saw him
Eyes  locked in seconds
Hearts lost to hope
He held his heart lost
She looks her hope not sure
He dare called she dare answered?
Clutching her bags she mounts the stairs
The university stairs to mount in years to come
He stood there on trembling feet waiting
She climbs on and up,on n up
Up the height their  hope clingy
He is up there she mounts up to him
At the seventh floor to  meet  him
As she makes it up all eyes on her trail;
Noticeably slim model of freshness
Admirably everyone to behold
She climbed up to him
Before him she stood
His call she dare answered.
Transfixed! He took her bag
Willingly  she gave him
The floor quakes! The feelings of not just two
The feelings of an age quakes
The hope of many quakes too
The seventh floor quakes!
The waiting room quakes
She enters with of all but him!
He Leads  her to a chair
Her tired Legs grateful.
A sachet of water he gave her
Her thirsty soul appreciative.
He loved her immediately!
She sips the water genuinely thirsty
And She saw the eyes!
His eyes  beholding her.
Her nerve quakes the water pours
Pouring on her chest her white shirt dampen
The chest thumping reveals her Breast
A beautifully moulded set of young Breast
Breast shaped by only the Almighty!
Breast only can be possessed by a Goddess.
Adorable set of gem like diamond points at him.
He looks on. All in the room looks on.
He breathes hard like he just climbed the stairs.
In shock he brought  out a brownish white handkerchief
Dampen  the  chest staining the wet area
She felt his hand. He touched her soul.
The seventh floor quakes the more
Quaking the very foundation of hearts in the room.
He looked her in the eyes , kissed her forehead
She quakes inside of her
His very soul sincerely stared
Her very innocence quakes.
He mutters this lines;
    ‘Be mine sweet Angel’
Her soul heard the lines from a distance
Transporting further the very quake
Whose after shock will last for years.
He was in his third year fed for himself
She was in her first year in daddy’s shadow.
Tortious was the climb
Broadlynarrow was the road
Choice was  a task
Trust…! a life bet
Two hearts-dice juggled
The quake was seconds still
Single mindedness was the decision
The mindful was n is the after shock.
Her friends bemoaned her
His friends fearful cheered him
Her mother cautiously careful
His mother hands off n up in prayer
Her father tearing n threatening.
Thundering his nerve to the brims
She remained obstinate n focused
He remained supportive n sacrificial
Sacrifices of an umbrella in the rain
She appreciated him. He protected her.
He provided the hanger for her  grip
She stretched her arms like the pumpkin tongue grips
The vow of  protections as a service  after graduation.
A service not to a fatherland but for truth
Truth of two souls in opposite divide.
The protection from unspoken facts
Facts only known to one n whispered to the other.
The bet on Trust not Love?
And four year stroll  past
For time crept in to birth a newness.
A new birth n a new day of destiny berthed
As fortune of two set sail
And another two stuck on the hyacinth.
She mounts the podium
He watched from afar in tears of joy
She was the best in the pac
He made it happened
Her mother esthetic n jubilant
Egoistic  father puffy with pride
The pac applauds success n true work
She worked for it. He saw to it.
A synergy of trust for result seem unattainable
Impossibility made possible
Success he desired but archived in her.
She is rewarded for excellence
He is rewarded for steadfastness
Her mother is rewarded for unspoken fear from shame
His mother is rewarded for daily travails in prayer
Her father is rewarded for money spent on trivialities.
The reward of one pervades a whole lot
Avalanches of rewards open n secrets.
UnOpen secret between father n daughter
Shared secret between him n her.
She collects her award admits ululations inside of her
He feels n knows her pain admits the atmosphere
Her mother is carried away like the gele she is wearing
Her father boastful in an atmospheric  blindness for his money's efforts
Her hearts inner workings is detached from the day's euphoria
He standing at the distance transmutes her experiences
Experiences of a father who knew only his desires
Desires bought n explored from every available mode.
The university was a safe heaven for her
He provided the guard and guidance she lacked at home
Her encounter of him n the journey to the seventh floor
Shaped her to today n assured her of tomorrow
True  love stands like strong pilar  
He longed n gave love he wanted n  never had
She believe n trust for him save the climb
She is a daughter her father only knew  in the dark
He is a friend who is a true father n never had one.
Drives n ponderings of the hearts
The podium is for gallery elicit joyousness
Joyous celebrations into the night.
The night comes with  it's sounds
Darkness comes with it's secretes
Tides n storms in dark hearts alleyway
Lighten flashes schemes it's way in the dark tides of time
The heart thunders in ‘tick ****’ motion of time
Tale  trail to time
Quest of two in timescape alley
Time: a healer n a judge?
Time n space bridged reward
A collusion of hatred n love rewarded.
The reward of time is unquantifiable  
And timeless is its weight.
The weight of love prompted a search
A search for his father
A search for her true father
A father who constantly seek n desires  daughter’s nakedness?
A mother whose silence at the face of such shame?
Truth bound by time  rebounds in space
Complicit of two self lying marriage between man n woman
Rebounds in  two young honest lovers
The happiness of youthful individual being sacrificed?
The weight of a DNA is  love for him and her
And hate for father n mother .
Her mother was shameless n still is
His father was irresponsible n still is.
The early light dispels darkness
Darkness of the heart under a fretsaw
Patterning  in style  actions of the dark
Every secret did have open reward
She was n is her mother from a man she refused her knowing
He was his father Who absconded 33 years ago
Hiding in the arms of another woman bewitched?
Likes begets  likes in a mate of two deluded snakes
Living in the dark holes of there night
Orchestrating symphonies of lies n lies
And now likes dogs leak their  poisonous venom.
At dawn light gains its penetrations
Penetrating the very marrow of truth….!
As Morning dawns with it's dews
A climb to the seventh floor was the dew.
And light melts away this dew
Shining in the life of two young fellows
Who loved from their souls.
The poem is still a work in progress, will like to make it better.
jennee Dec 2014
I dream of a life living in hell. It's insane I know, but I love picturing myself in bruises and more scars than I already have. I fantasize of someone kicking me in the face, mutilating myself and drugging every last inch of my brain with more memories that can stimulate my being traumatized. Everyone dreams of a happy, non-problematic life, truth be told I do too, but there are just moments were I picture a person smothered in pity and suicide.
I take hours driving into nowhere. I leave at dawn or in the middle of the night and have long conversations with a lover who craves for lust as much as I do. But it will always be her or maybe him and I. Just the two of us, driving towards utopia but mistaking the roads and ending up in an opposite world.
I dream of having *** that will make me feel alive. On the road, in the middle of nowhere, abandoned houses, motels, bathroom stalls and bedrooms that smell of old newspapers and cardboards. My partner scratching me as I bleed. I dream of a him and a her, a ****** up version of me, filled with tattoos and scars, who drown themselves in ***** and cigarettes, and someone who thinks just as I do. They choke me with words, and penetrations. Maybe fingers and wet lips. I always give in, and they are always in control.
I dream of crying on their necks or shoulders, releasing my anger and all the heat into their kisses and lust. I dream of him or her, finding me, a little too late, in a bathtub filled with a lifeless and breathless body. And they will mourn over me and join me later on, on the journey.

It's sick of me, for someone to think this way, maybe I'm just too ****** up, maybe I need help, but I guess these are my horrible fantasies, of a tragic life I crave for. A world where no one cares and thinks about me except maybe for that person. A world where I dream of killing myself and breathing in drugs to help me forget about the perfect life I am in.

But that world does not exist. I live in this one where I am me. I have scars, I smoke, I eat, I breathe, I talk, I laugh, I'm happy and alive. That world is just another one of my desires and fantasies. Another definition of the word "living"

n.j.
Getting lost in your contradictions

In a play of your persuasions

Your endless ammunitions

Such strong piercing penetrations

Detailed in your enumerations

Has become my new addiction
c quirino May 2011
i cleanse myself of your two-legged ills,
cool as my breath upon a thousand dry necks,
freeze, and regard
death-rattle-arias
to be found by turistas come morning.

you are not my children,
my first world, private school informed angels,
yet you were my tartan,
counterfeit and used to wrap
your pulsating lesions.

cough, and curl up, as you did in mother’s womb,
left arm, turned to sponge
absorbing the penetrations of a thousand needles.
eyes, gold-crusted as sunset on the tundra-rough plateau.

i am not your home,
take thee back upon slave ships,
to be buried and shackled somewhere else in the empire.
Adam Struble Oct 2014
look around-  there's beauty on all sides
deep inside this wilderness
with savages by fireside
nocturnal mystery and the aftermath of carnal eyes
whispers and your hands in the night
these are dreams we make
this is the life we share

we are only vessels for the light
we are life celebrating life
walking in the garden of delight
we are life celebrating life

dream penetrations and ephemeral fluids
streak and stain your face and heart and mind
i can see the fantasy still lingering around
but who can say if i was really there?
Evelyn Dec 2016
I didn't want to feel like this again.
I didn't want to attachment issues to come back.
They are my worst fear, and I dread they can make 6 months snap just like that.

My room seems so quite.
I have my music on full to block out the silence.
But these thoughts and these feelings are wounds and penetrations that are nothing more than violent.

And I'm overwhelmed by longing sensations.
I'm suffocated by numbing lacerations.
My skin is burning from the loneliness that is suppressed deep inside my stomach.

I sit with my plush animals so close to me, pressed upon my chest.
But when I hug them, they don't feel like home to me.
Though I promise I'm trying my best.

They are the issues that could ruin everything.
They are the thoughts that keep me up at night.
They are the anxieties and horrors that leave my throat feeling tight.

I'm holding back tears and I'm trying to stay calm.
But this is the after math of years of trauma, that leave me dreaming of only your arms..
Mental Illnesses are my greatest burden.
Sentosa Mam Mar 2012
i cant sleep with the anticipation that you’re not here with me, when will i get to hear from you in my moment of paralysis.

i cant stop thinking about how much i want you, to feel you, for you to just hold me. its not about the ***, its not the ****** moist feeling ******* out of me, its not the penetrations.

i cant restrain myself from letting everything go and giving you all i have. im not even sure if you want my existence in your presence, but it feels inviting, and i want to be in your presence.

i don’t want to be that loose string hanging off your tee shirt that you somehow just cant seem to get off, but i do feel like i am.

please dont chew me up then spit me out. it would hurts and just thinking about it hurts.

but just to let you know, im all yours


wednesday february 29, 2012
LJ Jun 2016
It's time for bed
and the moon is hiding
perched on the dark clouds

It's time to sleep
and I cant tell how I feel
blunt with unseen quests

All is calm as I die
a float to the shift
a rhythm of the night

I am not all alone
as I these walls talk to me
in sweet trance sounds

A word mania taunts
of smoky hues in boulevards
thought and thorough penetrations
Check it fours collide, once I make crosses with my hand rides,
Two to the shoulder, one to the head and other at my waist, see the chase,
Lean on braille faith, books of holy words, I used em as swords,
Stab enemies, before they get near me, even if it's my own family,
Days of a benz, I thought of rolling in, but my conscious killed the trend,
Before the beginning, I saw the end, how can I find peace hidden within,
The state of society, at the hills of a destined fatality, cant even see reality,
Masked for tragedy, vaccine shots for everybody, times is crazy,
They **** people, but not the revolution, cant stop the pistols, from shooting,
Helgian dialectics, carefully selected, media inject it, people reject it,
That's how the psyops made to be projected, systems protected,
No overdraft fees, only people I see punished, is the working class see,
The bees done traveled a million miles, past the speed of light, float as a kite,
When I'm high on knowledge, giving a telepath, from the spiritual graphs,
Laid into my souls, feels of the unsaved souls, front page news articles,
Fake scripted miracles, free money for the people, high rise price principles,




I cant do fake ****, this ain't no tales from the crypt, but these words I'll encrypt,
Holy manuscripts, from the bloodline, of the apostle, to the modern day Aristotle,
Pack a pistol, just incase, I need a light show, I seal the fiasco, of pains merrygo,
They be like, there he go, yosef talking all that spiritual, ******* from the pits,
Of my brain, it's hard for me, focus in this day in age, shave too close, to the grain,
Now they mad, cuz I don't think the same, folks still in a childish range,
Acting they shoe size, by the time wake up, theyll be too dead, too realize,
They've been hypnotize, the stupidity of material desire, earth wind and fire,
Trailing ahead, see we living the days of Noah's bread, pieces chipped off,
These days everything is soft, dumb down generations, easy penetrations,
Tiktok is the newest plantation, slaves to the mind, of technology designs,
Got girls poping they behinds, got confusion running into the boys mind,
And at the same time, they say dont object her like a material design,
Real women replaced by trans, and vice versa, ***** and Gomorrah,
Just playing out the scorer, points to double clock paging the sorcerer,
Rebel civilian born to excel, took the Angel's pledge, creed of honor edged,
nick armbrister Feb 2018
Zoos Comet
Her empty lies mean more than all the halls of silence.
We've been shafted, double penetrations are the worst.
Are they excited at where they'll wake up after committing suicide?
No more ****.
Metallic grey sparks on metal elements realigning.
A case of falling space objects.
In town they complained of the noise.
**** rock could have flattened them.
The Theran dance goes on.
Cast out by the hand of fate.
Ilayda Aydın Jan 2019
i am in flames...
your eyes have burned me and they are still doing that
they are a pool for me and i am swimmimg in the deep their.
your existence is universe for me and i am wandering inside it.
Don't judge my feels, please...
i'd like to be flecks on your neck
i'd like to be your rock n roll passion
perhaps, this words can seems you as fiddle faddle
But... these are only my feels and i love my feels
i love you," sirius"
i wanna be inside your soul
your soul and dreams are vivacious...
My thoughts are inside my head
Your existence is getting seductive and happy me...
i am listening your guitar tune while 'm studying and lying...
You are special for me
you are taking photos from everywhere
you have jack daniels in your hand
you are reflection of moonlight
i got overcome of my sea fear thanks to your eyes
i got overcome of my hight fear thanks to your passion
Your lovely guitar tunes inside my ears
i am wandering...
i love you like my motorcycle love...
i love you like my all passions...
i'd like to be  your parfume in order to can touch your skin
i'd like to be glass in order to can touch your lips
i'd like to be the sky in order to can see you always..  
No matter how difficult...
like a rolling stone... this life...
Your existence penetrations into the my soul and leaves profound influence inside my wounded heart
i am getting disappear inside your eyes like a pirate
Your hair is the most valuable star for me like sun
and i can't take with money...
i love you like a child
like a woman
like a friend
like and like....
Just a confession
Dennis Willis Mar 2022
I just want to
take a gun
and use
the ****
of it
to erase
penetrations
Flash Thunderson Aug 2020
My one true love, she calls my name.
I fly to her— like moth to flame—
She’s not at fault ‘cause I’m to blame.
It’s what I need— it’s not a game.

Gelastic jive— the way I talk—
I lost the key, but there’s no lock.
And even whilst mid zombie walk,
I recognize...  take careful stock.

From this madness comes frustrations—
They’re producing invitations
Through my liver, penetrations,
From the liquid fueled sensations.

She’s my goddess, a queen— divine.
Her purple prose, pray at her shrine,
Because of her I’m feeling fine...
Plus forty gulps of breakfast wine.

— The End —