derick-van-dusen - Hello Poetry

Milk is where we meet in sweet sticky surrender to honeydew feet Bow to the pleasure of flesh and flood Bow to the taste of honey and blood We are but that which created this flesh Our milky white sinfully delicious goodness We come as we please but are we to tease Do we know what we do when we fall to our knees We slip and we slide, in honey we glide we poor out of flesh to crave of desire where our milk falls pooling, heated in ire We **** and we poke each dip of the skin We play with honey as if it's a sin What have we to do but role in our lust and drink of this sweet sticky milk we must.

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Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC

Sweet Sticky Surrender

Milk is where we meet in sweet sticky surrender to honeydew feet Bow to the pleasure of flesh and flood Bow to the taste of honey and blood We are but that which created this flesh Our milky white sinfully delicious goodness We come as we please but are we to tease Do we know what we do when we fall to our knees We slip and we slide, in honey we glide we poor out of flesh to crave of desire where our milk falls pooling, heated in ire We **** and we poke each dip of the skin We play with honey as if it's a sin What have we to do but role in our lust and drink of this sweet sticky milk we must.

15

She is but honey where pure, perfect passion races Flowing in all the right satisfyingly sensual places Somewhere between the slippery sheets digress A sumptuous tease in a temptingly playful caress I drip my hands slowly down her bare naked chest Salty sweet, a delightfully tasty, slow sticky treat She is the liquid, languid on my wandering tongue Rolling around in her mouth as she's stung Hers is the pleasure in the warmth of her heat Warm flowing honey on milky white flesh

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Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC

Milky White Flesh

She is but honey where pure, perfect passion races Flowing in all the right satisfyingly sensual places Somewhere between the slippery sheets digress A sumptuous tease in a temptingly playful caress I drip my hands slowly down her bare naked chest Salty sweet, a delightfully tasty, slow sticky treat She is the liquid, languid on my wandering tongue Rolling around in her mouth as she's stung Hers is the pleasure in the warmth of her heat Warm flowing honey on milky white flesh

10

Green hat sat red worn Blocked by empty vision Red hat lay green torn

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Sep 17, 2014

Sep 17, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC

Mountain Dew

Green hat sat red worn Blocked by empty vision Red hat lay green torn

3

As the fire builds from tips of toes so too do the woes. Oh my the passion rising from depths of lust to the core of wanting A MUST. I must have that which is denied, the kind of thing seen but not eyed. I must posses that beautiful being, I am in need of her heartened sting. She tickles and teases her way from my toes and on up my legs her passion goes. She stops just short of my yearning thighs and whispers sweet nothings, "hellos and goodbyes" She continues her fingers on their wonton ride. Motionless, breathless, she lies in wait as she claws at my side. Bighting back the sting of the pain, I writhe in ecstasy as I scream out her name. She digs in deeper, drawing tears to my eyes. I moan softly and whimper, covering my cries. Demanding I do as she tells me to do, I fall to my knees and worship her shoe. She demands attention and have it she will. She is my passion, my fire and thrill.

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Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC

Fire and Thrill

As the fire builds from tips of toes so too do the woes. Oh my the passion rising from depths of lust to the core of wanting A MUST. I must have that which is denied, the kind of thing seen but not eyed. I must posses that beautiful being, I am in need of her heartened sting. She tickles and teases her way from my toes and on up my legs her passion goes. She stops just short of my yearning thighs and whispers sweet nothings, "hellos and goodbyes" She continues her fingers on their wonton ride. Motionless, breathless, she lies in wait as she claws at my side. Bighting back the sting of the pain, I writhe in ecstasy as I scream out her name. She digs in deeper, drawing tears to my eyes. I moan softly and whimper, covering my cries. Demanding I do as she tells me to do, I fall to my knees and worship her shoe. She demands attention and have it she will. She is my passion, my fire and thrill.

12

We're as fake as the plastic melting under our skin The collective imagination of a societal binge Our beauty is a mask, a lie told to us by magazines The product of industrial dreams, all fantastic schemes We live in a Barbie Doll world, where we worship fake ******* We lift weights at Gold's Gym while we pound our huge chests We know nothing of true beauty, under the façade of the Glossy Eight by Ten We cover our blemishes and we can't even be comfortable in our own skin We are infatuated with the surface, skin deep, lustful of the pretenses Our masks hide our vulnerabilities and our true intent While reality is crumbling at our feet and we hide beneath a veneer of A glossy face shot, the airbrushed images on the cover-girl-poster-boy-pin-up centerfold We've lost sight of the aged and the gifts they hold Celebrities ride around in window tinted limousines, so they can't be seen but we're so pretty that we have to preen The paparazzi all want the next shot for the next scandal but they airbrush that too We are so busy believing the lies that we have become afraid of the truth Camera's are as ubiquitous as grass and our privacy is all but laughable while our smiles aren't genuinely affable We post pictures of ourselves on Facebook, yet our self esteem could use a second look We talk each other up and beat each other down, but we're keeping it onehundred while hiding a frown We've become fast paced and slow witted, we're breaking the seams that our families knitted We place beauty on a pedestal and worship at its alter, but we fail to foster true beauty in our children and wonder why they falter We listen to society and shun our parents, our role models have become degenerates We allow our little girls to dress like tramps and wear makeup and our little boys don't respect them and treat them like toys And we wonder why they cut themselves We pay movie stars and football players millions so we can entertain ourselves But we can't pay our teachers enough to educate the masses yet it's okay to collect a check and sit on our ***** And our troops don't have the armor they need because of our self indulgent greed We forget about the little guy as we climb the corporate ladder to survey the sky at the top But when the **** goes down, we can't pick up a mop We won't lift a finger to lend a hand because we're so afraid of our fellow man

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Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC

Afraid of Our Fellow Man

We're as fake as the plastic melting under our skin The collective imagination of a societal binge Our beauty is a mask, a lie told to us by magazines The product of industrial dreams, all fantastic schemes We live in a Barbie Doll world, where we worship fake ******* We lift weights at Gold's Gym while we pound our huge chests We know nothing of true beauty, under the façade of the Glossy Eight by Ten We cover our blemishes and we can't even be comfortable in our own skin We are infatuated with the surface, skin deep, lustful of the pretenses Our masks hide our vulnerabilities and our true intent While reality is crumbling at our feet and we hide beneath a veneer of A glossy face shot, the airbrushed images on the cover-girl-poster-boy-pin-up centerfold We've lost sight of the aged and the gifts they hold Celebrities ride around in window tinted limousines, so they can't be seen but we're so pretty that we have to preen The paparazzi all want the next shot for the next scandal but they airbrush that too We are so busy believing the lies that we have become afraid of the truth Camera's are as ubiquitous as grass and our privacy is all but laughable while our smiles aren't genuinely affable We post pictures of ourselves on Facebook, yet our self esteem could use a second look We talk each other up and beat each other down, but we're keeping it onehundred while hiding a frown We've become fast paced and slow witted, we're breaking the seams that our families knitted We place beauty on a pedestal and worship at its alter, but we fail to foster true beauty in our children and wonder why they falter We listen to society and shun our parents, our role models have become degenerates We allow our little girls to dress like tramps and wear makeup and our little boys don't respect them and treat them like toys And we wonder why they cut themselves We pay movie stars and football players millions so we can entertain ourselves But we can't pay our teachers enough to educate the masses yet it's okay to collect a check and sit on our ***** And our troops don't have the armor they need because of our self indulgent greed We forget about the little guy as we climb the corporate ladder to survey the sky at the top But when the **** goes down, we can't pick up a mop We won't lift a finger to lend a hand because we're so afraid of our fellow man

32

I am the unseen in the corner of the seen I am that which you hear but cannot hear The thing, incipient, in the corner of your mind The way and truth of the kind I am that which you fear but you know nothing of fear Here, in this place, you are lost to me, you are dead to me Here, now, I see only a vacant spot A diminutive existence of what used to be, a nothing, a void You are an empty shell dashed on your own hardened heart That little less than a piece of falling apart You are the beginning of the falling apart. A waste of time and space You are disgraced among men of your kind And in time you will be nothing more Than a forgotten fragment of memory.

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Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC

Forgotten Fragment of Memory

I am the unseen in the corner of the seen I am that which you hear but cannot hear The thing, incipient, in the corner of your mind The way and truth of the kind I am that which you fear but you know nothing of fear Here, in this place, you are lost to me, you are dead to me Here, now, I see only a vacant spot A diminutive existence of what used to be, a nothing, a void You are an empty shell dashed on your own hardened heart That little less than a piece of falling apart You are the beginning of the falling apart. A waste of time and space You are disgraced among men of your kind And in time you will be nothing more Than a forgotten fragment of memory.

15

I would shine upon the gloom I would take away the frown Granted your wish to me I would bloom in your heart I would comfort your soul Growing in the **** I would watch over you my child I would help you along your path Blessing fall upon you I would desire to come true I would write a life anew Sleep in love my child I would think only of peace I would think only of you Think of me always.

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Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC

Think of Me Always

I would shine upon the gloom I would take away the frown Granted your wish to me I would bloom in your heart I would comfort your soul Growing in the **** I would watch over you my child I would help you along your path Blessing fall upon you I would desire to come true I would write a life anew Sleep in love my child I would think only of peace I would think only of you Think of me always.

15

Rich. I am not. Poor. I am not. Nor do I have any money to speek of. But I am rich beyond my wildest dreams. I have a family that loves me, a daughter I love dearly more than my own life and will treasure more than any bill can pay for strife. I follow no greed to its end for I know what road gold will lead you down. I know that in the end, I wish my family to be around. Money buys not happiness nor does wealth buy true friends. For they cannot be purchased by wicked, evil ends. I have no penny in my pocket, nor have I a dime to my name but I know that I am happy and will not live in vain. Clothes do not make the a man and tattered are his wrags To riches I will set myself apart and in poverty take my stand for I know what true riches are even though I too wear my wrags. So busy yourself for all your toil and make your money fist over hand. In the end you die a lonely, bitter, broken man. But when my grave calls me and before it I stand looking in. I will die with a smile wider than monetary riches could ever buy. For I am poor and have no home but truly, I am rich.

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Aug 3, 2012

Aug 3, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC

but Truly I Am Rich

Rich. I am not. Poor. I am not. Nor do I have any money to speek of. But I am rich beyond my wildest dreams. I have a family that loves me, a daughter I love dearly more than my own life and will treasure more than any bill can pay for strife. I follow no greed to its end for I know what road gold will lead you down. I know that in the end, I wish my family to be around. Money buys not happiness nor does wealth buy true friends. For they cannot be purchased by wicked, evil ends. I have no penny in my pocket, nor have I a dime to my name but I know that I am happy and will not live in vain. Clothes do not make the a man and tattered are his wrags To riches I will set myself apart and in poverty take my stand for I know what true riches are even though I too wear my wrags. So busy yourself for all your toil and make your money fist over hand. In the end you die a lonely, bitter, broken man. But when my grave calls me and before it I stand looking in. I will die with a smile wider than monetary riches could ever buy. For I am poor and have no home but truly, I am rich.

19

Flawed eventless, the muck to the mire To the river crimson with lustful haze. Supressed desire flows like light, rapture to the gaze. Feverd, clamy, tossing, turning Lying wrestless on the floor. Sarrow slips, through the cracks, to come smashing through the door. Famin parched, the scream to the cry, to the path trampled in fits of rage. Unrelenting fire, burns like ice, denile in a cage. Calm, relaxed, watching, breathing, Standing idle at the sash. Anguish waits at beck and call to come crashing through the glass. Hidden in a seamless world of delight and joy and glee A fractured cloud of misery waits to have its cake and thee, to reval as it sulks with company. Ever growing spawned by fear, deathly silent in its' plea Eating away at the sinews of faith, dispair awaits its' time to flea. Akin to death, friend to evil, slient screaming in its' vain Dissolving with trust the passion of the lust Envy plies to its bain. Passion and fire, burning desire, these monsters are not the same. All too familiar, confusing just the same, betrayed by flesh. What is there cannot be had, for surely this is no game.

0

Aug 3, 2012

Aug 3, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC

Love Lost Never Had

Flawed eventless, the muck to the mire To the river crimson with lustful haze. Supressed desire flows like light, rapture to the gaze. Feverd, clamy, tossing, turning Lying wrestless on the floor. Sarrow slips, through the cracks, to come smashing through the door. Famin parched, the scream to the cry, to the path trampled in fits of rage. Unrelenting fire, burns like ice, denile in a cage. Calm, relaxed, watching, breathing, Standing idle at the sash. Anguish waits at beck and call to come crashing through the glass. Hidden in a seamless world of delight and joy and glee A fractured cloud of misery waits to have its cake and thee, to reval as it sulks with company. Ever growing spawned by fear, deathly silent in its' plea Eating away at the sinews of faith, dispair awaits its' time to flea. Akin to death, friend to evil, slient screaming in its' vain Dissolving with trust the passion of the lust Envy plies to its bain. Passion and fire, burning desire, these monsters are not the same. All too familiar, confusing just the same, betrayed by flesh. What is there cannot be had, for surely this is no game.

27

Dance in dark Delight in days Revel in reality slipping slowly to the gray. Inky black comfort dripping into haze. Distraught in denile Damaged in disdain Rememberd reason trembeling in shadows to the grave. Nervous the edge of sanity sinking slowly below the brave. Cringe in quiet Crumble in cacophony Bask in benign indifference to the coming of the fray. Shape the broken mold into which is squezed the clay. Form in function Friction in fruition Extrapolate from nothing what is real of what is fake. Drive doom through the heart wooden to the stake. Damaged and distroyed, disturbed and distrought, this is the friction of the fraught.

0

Aug 3, 2012

Aug 3, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC

Friction of the Fraught

Dance in dark Delight in days Revel in reality slipping slowly to the gray. Inky black comfort dripping into haze. Distraught in denile Damaged in disdain Rememberd reason trembeling in shadows to the grave. Nervous the edge of sanity sinking slowly below the brave. Cringe in quiet Crumble in cacophony Bask in benign indifference to the coming of the fray. Shape the broken mold into which is squezed the clay. Form in function Friction in fruition Extrapolate from nothing what is real of what is fake. Drive doom through the heart wooden to the stake. Damaged and distroyed, disturbed and distrought, this is the friction of the fraught.

17