Wild woman
Uninhibited by inhibitions and
Unburdened by her need to be
In the limelight
The spotlight on stage with
Off key notes and
A voice of sin
Wild woman
Devil woman
With her wiles and winks from
Afar
Just far enough to make me want
Make me pine for what once was and
Can never be
Wild woman
Kink woman
Teeth to neck and
Chilled fingers on feverish flesh
Reminding me
Taunting me as
Whispers of lust
Flood my ears
Oh, wild woman
Wicked woman
Pouted lips and
*** in heels
Who wants when drunk and
Forgets when sober
With no care for her actions or
The hearts she breaks with
Fluttering lashes and
False promises.
Wild woman
Drunk woman
You’ll forget it all
When morning comes.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
The definition of LOVE
Love:
n.
1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion of *** and romance.
3.
a. ****** passion.
b. ****** ***********
c. A love affair.
4. An intense emotional attachment, as for a pet or treasured object.
5. A person who is the object of deep or intense affection or attraction; beloved. Often used as a term of endearment.
it is
"More than words"
"Your Guardian Angel"
"It's oh so quiet"
and
"A broken Hallelujah"
It's
Passionate,
Sadistic,
completely insane,
lacking all rational and reasonable thought
violently happy,
twisted,
cruel,
stunning,
blinding,
addicting.
It's
intangible,
held by the world,
invisible,
seen by all.
It's
how you make me smile when no one's looking,
how you make me cry when everyone's eyes are on us,
how you make me feel like the only woman in the world,
how you make me feel like every woman on earth,
and
how you spin me so hard I get dizzy
when I'm standing very still
It's
my yearning,
my craving,
my salvation,
and
my ultimate poison.
But most importantly
It is
you.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
It’s something
Nothing
Can prepare you for.
No amount of reading
Or schooling
Can brace you for the crushing blow
That comes when someone you love and admire
Slips from your grasp
Like a trickle of water from
A once mighty stream.
There is nothing more painful
Than seeing a man you looked up to
Who gave you the world on a silver spoon
Deteriorate
Until all that is left is the mind of a helpless child—
One that can barely feed himself
Who tries to put both feet through the same pants leg
And who mumbles something
Only to repeat it seconds later
While swearing up and down that this is the first time.
The mind is fragile
Like glass
But when it is fogged and cracked
Things become
Fuzzy.
It terrifies me
How the mind can slip from being
Perfectly alright,
Albeit a bit stubborn,
To changed completely
To where
Your face isn’t recognized
And where
Simple tasks
Become impossible.
I know I had days
When “I hate you!”
Fell from my lips
Or where I wished
He would just
Disappear.
But today?
Oh today
I would give anything to have him back
To have him look at me with a sparkle in his eyes
Instead of that vacant stare
That screams that the lights are out.
Tonight
Was the hardest dinner of my life.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:32 PM UTC
I rise with the sun
the moon and the stars
with my lover before he gets out of bed
and with the heartbeat that increases when our bodies entwine.
I rise like fear
in the child filled with wonderment
and I rise like the tides,
always aiming for the shore.
I rise like the fists of rebellion and like the hope of the people.
I rise.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:32 PM UTC
Spoken word.
It ain't about
rhymes
sonnets
Shakespeare, Dickenson, or Poe.
It ain't about
the iambic pentameter flow
or the 5-7-5 of a haiku.
It's about
the heartbeat
the pulse that courses through your very soul in a rhythm that is completely
you.
It is YOU that falls from trembling lips
into the figurative and literal microphone before you;
YOU who breathes life into words that would
otherwise be considered
scribbles on a page.
It's an essence
a way of being
and beating
the drum of your being
that would otherwise have you hanging---
on tenterhooks,
waiting for permission
to raise your voice above the rest
just so you can feel
like you've got something to say.
And child,
you do.
You got a story all your own
a thunder that outnumbers
the roar of the lions that are too busy
with their 9 to 5 to stop
and listen.
So don't think you have to shout
just to be heard
but don't you whisper the words
that mean so much
but can seem so small.
They ain't.
Those words are your fists,
balled up tightly and raised high in the air
demanding the attention of anyone who will just
listen.
They strike
again and again
breaking the air and airwaves
with a newfound
beat
so don't you think
your fists are too small
to mean something
because child, they ain't.
Raise your words high
with that of your peers
and chant them again and again
like it's the last war cry that will ever
be heard
around the world
your voice is strong.
It echoes
and shakes the earth to it's very core
like a stampede
so don't you stop
don't you stay silent now
just step up to the mic like this
will be your legacy
your last words to live by
and the first words to make you
reborn.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:31 PM UTC
Sunrise.
Soft tendrils of illumination
Caress my already
Sunkissed cheek;
The delicate arch of my back
Is warmed by this lover’s awakening.
Sunrise.
The fingertips of him
Leave no part of me untouched
Bathing me in the balmy radiance
Until my body,
my form,
my very being
is surrounded by an ethereal glow.
Sunrise.
Where each dawning
Brings this
Kismet encounter
Between myself
And Apollo’s rebirth,
Leaving me yearning and
Aching for more.
Sunrise.
The troubles and tribulations
Of yesterday’s woes
Are forgotten---
Left behind
In the twilight;
In the shadows where
This beacon
Dares not tread.
Sunrise.
As I
Stretch my arms
And
Reach for the heavens
I am reminded that
This delicate and alluring daybreak
Is short-lived,
Replaced with haste
By the rose-tinted splendor
Of morning.
Sunrise.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:30 PM UTC
Breathe.
You would think something
so simple
and so
natural
would come easily,
right?
In
and
out.
No middle.
Just in---
and out.
But what if
there was no out?
Just the in
and in
and in more
until you're all puffed out
and
your face turns blue
and
you're left waiting
and waiting
for that right moment
to let it go.
And on the other hand
what if you kept
breathing out
until you were completely deflated
with nothing left;
to where your lungs become so desperate
for that nourishing air
that they simply
shrivel up and fade away?
Both
both of these things can be
remedied
with a gasp---
a gasp for life
for balance
for that sweet taste of oxygen
we take for granted.
That gasp
that breath
comes in laughter
and tears;
in shouting matches
and a baby's cry.
It can come in rapid bursts
or a drawn out sigh
but it
it is still there.
And it will always be there
until the day when we draw our last breaths
and leave this world
either as a snuffed out candle
or in a blaze of glory.
So take the time---
in
and
out
over and over
and remember
to breathe.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:29 PM UTC
Effulgent.
That was my word of the day today.
i-FUHL-juhnt.
Of all the words in the English language,
this
This is my favorite.
It means: "Shining brightly, radiant."
It shares the same meaning as the name I was born with.
On any other day, I'd love this word without second thought.
But today
Today it makes me sad.
Not because it's nothing new
and not because it's something old
but because today,
of all days,
I don't feel it.
I ask myself
"When was the last time you allowed yourself to shine brightly?;
When was the last time you were radiant?"
Now, we're not talking about lighting up a room,
oh no.
We're talking blinding,
light-up-the-night-sky
and
outshine-the-sun
brilliant.
My light,
whether I like it or not,
has dimmed
considerably.
It no longer bursts from every part of me,
be it my lips when I speak
my eyes when I see
my ears when I hear
or even
my hands
so tiny and soft
that when they reach out to touch another soul so profoundly
that we both are changed forever.
Now, they reach for nothing
they feel nothing---
except the dark
that has caused me to fade
into a somber glow,
throbbing with only a hint of life left in it.
So where did my light go?
Where did it run off to now
for the millionth time
in my nearly 23 years of life?
What little unlit corner did it tuck itself away into
far from the prying eyes of the world and the people in it?
I wish I knew.
For if I knew,
I'd run
run towards it at the speed of sound
trying desperately to catch up---
only to find that it is just
just
out of my reach.
But that's the way the story goes, right?
In life, there are no happy endings;
instead we're always chasing dreams
and
wishing on stars,
hoping to one day find that singular moment where we
WE
are effulgent.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 2:27 PM UTC