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Deep in the creek
where speckled light kisses the saline shore
and mud hole bubbles leave crab trails
I knock upon her door.

She opens with a whisper on her skin
licks my **** with her southern tongue
winds rise the dusts within
the mangrove falls quiet to her moaning song.
 Mar 2016
BB Tyler
Feelings of accomplishment are short-lived.
As are feelings of pain.

Pipe in hand, to lip,
smoke in the air,
short-lived.

The rain drop ripples forming on the surface,
short-lived.

New buds of Spring,
pink and green,
short-lived.

Even the trees
warming my home
piece by piece.

I'll walk once more
around the pond
before bed.
 Mar 2016
Torin
She is beautiful
But
She is ugly
Her physical appearance
Hides an inner one

She would say the right things
When she doesn't mean them
She would say she understands
When she can't

She is beautiful
And her image haunts my dreams
But her actions haunt my thoughts
And have become
My waking nightmare
 Mar 2016
nivek
The target on your back
is fair game for your memory
to creep up and out
demanding the life you gave it.
 Mar 2016
r
I gathered all
  the driftwood
of my love
  and built a fire
at high tide
  watching the ocean
rise from the smoke
  in so many eyes.
 Mar 2016
K Balachandran
Revving up the engine
of the gleaming funky machine
before zooming around, gave her
such an Adrenalin high, nonperil.
The constant ****** no guy ever could
promise, this act gives her.
She is pleased for that moment,
gets ready for the ****** rigmarole,
the very next second.

She gets jealous of her
own story, ever heard of that?
On the race course and the spread bed
alike her ebullience creates
tsunami waves,broke long standing records.

When you run fast enough
there comes a moment,when
there is no record left to break!
and the beds, you guessed right,
all are broken, made redundant.

And then the inevitable happens,
she smells leaking gas, panics,
freezes on the track, shuddering,
switches off quickly the engine
of her dream machine,her heartbeat,
makes the final escape,spontaneously,
without delay, decides to renounce
worldly pleasures altogether,
up to the Himalayas goes by foot, seeking
that thing which in life she missed all along,
Finds silver light's play on ice caps, and realize this:
she was walking through a dark, dark  tunnel ,
of self-deception,"Affluenza" was indeed her affliction.

The Himalayan snow cap, loomed large as an attraction,
in her dreams once, now seemed less formidable, at arm's length,
"What a Guru,who looked timelessly ancient,
jokingly predicted  once, comes true here"she muses.
Her trek upwards resumes with a vengeance.
Indian tradition stipulates, renunciation embraced  after through enjoyment of sensual pleasures, will be firm, with no regrets.
 Mar 2016
katie
they    were      not      
     someone      you  
could        lust    over,  
they    were     fey,      
blood       not    running
   the     usual     way,  
they     made     me      
   dream    of    streams  
touched    by  moon
beams,    ice     cold    
  fields  at       dawn,      
every     season    I      
have    ever      known
breathing      within
    their     bones;    
dark      woods      were  
organs   once     stood;    
    each      touch    a    
   crunch      underfoot      
revealing   another        
layer  so       deep,      you    
doubt   you     will 
   ever      reach     the    
heart       of      its    beat.
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