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 Sep 2015
Corset
Your eyes are waterwheels
like high seas in the wind
Dante umbrella
love's happy suicide
kiss me at noon tide,
feast on lips of starving waif
face turned up to greet the sun
your breast -a brave moor
of breeze sworn content
each salty sweet spray
a crag at dawn
whispering o'er forlorn waves,
breathe in this- still of morn
cheek pressed to blue ribbon sky
dream of me and wonder why.

God can be so cruel sometimes
when morrows reach so far away
and your sail - a dot of horizon
and the space between
a watery grave,
these eyes are water wheels
splashing...
 Sep 2015
Just Melz
The image
Of your tongue
Gently caressing
My spine
While
You're pulling
My hair
From behind
Brings thoughts
To mind
That make
My heart race
And I'm sure
Nothing could replace
That emotion
As you trace
Little hearts
Down my chest
With your calloused
Fingertips
Or that look of lust
That appears
With every
Sway of my hips
Or how the sight
Of me
Licking my lips
Makes you
Lose control
And you
Don't even know
How often
These images appear
But for now
It's just dreams
Until you're here
Holding me
Touching me
Kissing me roughly
Squeezing me
Pounding me
Biting be softly
I just can't wait
Until these dreams
Become my reality
 Sep 2015
Sergio MP
Me escuchas? Descalzo
camino mirando
tu pecho desnudo
subiendo y bajando

Te mueves ligera
sintiendo mis pasos
te miro de nuevo:
tus ojos cerrados.

Pero hay sin embargo
una diferencia:
sonrisa secreta
susurra "sutil" y
se posa discreta:

Te estás despertando

me rindo y sonrío
y sé que mañana
volveré a intentarlo
 Sep 2015
Sjr1000
There's a little boy
crying out into the night,
His mother's arms
hold him tight,
He puts his head
on her shoulder,
Nightmare dreams,
They disappear,
With a shudder he begins to feel,
a little sanctuary
so near.

There's a homeless man
sleeping outside tonight
behind the mall,
His beard is long,
His hair is *****,
He changed his clothes
in a thrift store
late last week,
the voices scream his name,
All he's looking for is
a little sanctuary.

There's a politician on
the stand
had *** with another man,
Tried methamphetamine
religion too,
Even hypocrites
are looking for
a little bit of sanctuary.

There's a woman on the road
tonight,
Two kids sleeping tight,
Johnny Walker's asleep
in front of the tv,
There's an internet
between her and her lover,
She turns up the music,
Patsy Cline's singing
Stand By Your Man,
All she's looking for, though, is a
little sanctuary.

The money's gone
the house is going,
The ***** is flowing,
The tears are rolling,
He steps outside
on the deck,
looks up at the stars,
Smokes a cigarette,
Looking for a little sanctuary.

Lover's up in a cabin loft,
twist and shout,
Grasping at straws,
Grasping each other,
Holding on tight,
For a moment of bliss,
Come on in,
Give'em a little sanctuary.

Insomniac mind,
Racing thoughts,
Won't shut off,
The days are long,
The nights are longer,
Every fear and dread,
Keeps raising their ugly head,
Quiet her thoughts,
She would if she could,
But all she can do is wait,
For a little sanctuary.

Soul survivor knocking on
the gate,
Waiting for the light,
Waiting for a world just right -
Putting away all sin and vice,
Hoping for a little sanctuary.

Garden Buddha sits on the path,
hands unfolded,
Quarter smile on his lips,
Serenity's smile,
Mastered the art of waiting
and just being,
A little sanctuary.

These poems I write tonight,
Words all tumbling
through my hand,
I don't know what I write them for,
I don't know where they go,
Where they land,
Only trying to see through
sanctuary's door,
maybe there's a little more,
A little bit left for me and you.

It can be so hard to find,
Maybe it's just a state of mind,
Sometimes so close
Sometimes so far,
We long for the day
to have the night,
We long for the night
to have the day,
But either way,
We're all just looking for
a little sanctuary.
 Sep 2015
brandon nagley
A poet uses their
Soul for word's;
And their spirit
As their pen.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
I have an old guitar named Gypsy Queen.  Normally this would not be much of a momentous occasion, lots of people name their guitars,but Gypsy is hand made by me.  Many moons ago when my ex wife was pregnant with my only child, a daughter, I took an adult education night class while I was attending college as a day job.  Our instructor had recently taken a trip to Canada to buy wood as he made his living building custom guitars and he had some of the most beautiful birds eye maple I'd ever seen and also some very good spruce for the top of the guitar.  We met at the local high-school's woodshop classroom.  I knew all the power tools there having taken wood shop twice in middle school and again in high-school.  From raw lumber I fashioned her pieces, sides, three piece back, neck, keyboard (made from some exotic ebony my instructor had), and top.  While my wife was patiently waddling about the house I shaped and sanded those pieces on our living room floor.  The interior struts, the binding, and frets for the keyboard had to be created as well.  When I finally got her glued and assembled she was quite a sight, almost perfect in every way, and the quality wood she was made from was so beautiful I had never seen the likes of her before.  Most of the people in the class didn't get that far not having the skills with the tools or the coordination necessary to succeed.  Still she needed to be lacquered and finished.  All told, special tools and accouterments, cost of the wood, glue and sandpaper, plus the frets (nickeled silver), and the grover tuning pegs she cost me about $160.  But almost 500hrs labor went into her creation, whole free weekends spent sanding and shaping.  It was a year or more before I finally got her lacquered and she was so beautiful I could scarce believe I had made her, totally from scratch.  I had even inlaid her mother of pearl keyboard art, god she was a sight.  Both she, and my daughter, are now close to 40 years old, and she still plays like a champ.  Ask any guitarist about guitars they use a lot, see how many survive that long.  She's my prized possession to this day.  Her custom bridge is shaped like a bird (something I've never seen to this day anywhere else) and I'd put her sound up against any expensive Martin made.  Plus she is so much prettier.  She's old and her finish is crackled some but her neck is still true and her action is superb.  Through the years she has brought me so much joy, I'm so glad I took that class.  I hope she survives till I die cause I want to mix her ashes with mine before they get spread around by my friends.  I'll want something to play in the afterlife.
Gypsy Queen my friend who knew I was such a good Luthier.  Beginners Luck!!!!
http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x370/toreinss/IMG_0324.jpg
 Sep 2015
Ellie Shelley
His name is buried into my skin quite literally
And figuratively
Arms in the air
Chest out, swan dive to the pavement
And in the three seconds before touch down you will hear his name peeling off my skin
He has always been the skeleton in my closet
The monster under my bed
He whose name shall not be said
Because he will always fine you
And then leave you
Three seconds before touch down
 Aug 2015
Mike Essig
Love, when distant,
hurts the most.
Not the good hurt
of too many kisses
but the bad hurt
of too many miles.
Yearning, burning,
waiting, hoping.
Like a toothache
always there
that you hope
won't go away.

  ~mce
 Aug 2015
Yung Wifey
you were my whole ******* ocean
but you only loved me in waves
 Aug 2015
Vivian
That blade took its time as it tried to saw through me
But those words had no problem slicing deep
I could have cried when the scarlet poured down my arm
But I waited till the world was fast asleep

I guess you didn't notice anything alarming
Or you ignored what you didn't want to see
I locked my demons with my secrets and I hid them well
Even though I wanted you to find the key

God who's gonna cry for me
Feel the pain, hurt inside with me
When I'm alone and the hurt is too heavy to hold
God who's gonna cry for me
God who's gonna pray for me
Shine a light, bring some hope to me
If no one dared pray for Satan as he fell from the Lord
Then God who's gonna pray for me
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