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Watch out for power,
for its avalanche can bury you,
snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain.

Watch out for hate,
it can open its mouth and you'll fling yourself out
to eat off your leg, an instant *****.

Watch out for friends,
because when you betray them,
as you will,
they will bury their heads in the toilet
and flush themselves away.

Watch out for intellect,
because it knows so much it knows nothing
and leaves you hanging upside down,
mouthing knowledge as your heart
falls out of your mouth.

Watch out for games, the actor's part,
the speech planned, known, given,
for they will give you away
and you will stand like a naked little boy,
******* on your own child-bed.

Watch out for love
(unless it is true,
and every part of you says yes including the toes),
it will wrap you up like a mummy,
and your scream won't be heard
and none of your running will end.

Love? Be it man. Be it woman.
It must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the land. To love another is something
like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

Special person,
if I were you I'd pay no attention
to admonitions from me,
made somewhat out of your words
and somewhat out of mine.
A collaboration.
I do not believe a word I have said,
except some, except I think of you like a young tree
with pasted-on leaves and know you'll root
and the real green thing will come.

Let go. Let go.
Oh special person,
possible leaves,
this typewriter likes you on the way to them,
but wants to break crystal glasses
in celebration,
for you,
when the dark crust is thrown off
and you float all around
like a happened balloon.
Underneath this myrtle shade,
On flowerly beds supinely laid,
With odorous oils my head o’erflowing,
And around it roses growing,
What should I do but drink away
The heat and troubles of the day?
In this more than kingly state
Love himself on me shall wait.
Fill to me, Love! nay, fill it up!
And mingled cast into the cup
Wit and mirth and noble fires,
Vigorous health and gay desires.
The wheel of life no less will stay
In a smooth than rugged way:
Since it equally doth flee,
Let the motion pleasant be.
Why do we precious ointments shower?—
Nobler wines why do we pour?—
Beauteous flowers why do we spread
Upon the monuments of the dead?
Nothing they but dust can show,
Or bones that hasten to be so.
Crown me with roses while I live,
Now your wines and ointments give:
After death I nothing crave,
Let me alive my pleasures have:
All are Stoics in the grave.
How can you know where you stand

With somebody who doesn't know where they stand?

You can't

You Can

Just hold their hand

And you stand together
With my dislike for confusion and my stubborn streak I usually fold my arms or flick the V's and walk away but hey ** maybe I'll try something different
"Ahhhh Reach Out!" *Chic remix*
Pain is like a caged beast

It needs to be released

And that means you can't keep on feeding it

Cause of course it'll ****** come back!
I don't know why but I imagine this being read in David Attenboroughs voice..partly due to the fact that it would be incredibly entertaining to hear him Say "******" XD
She smells like a meadow of Jasmine trees
Soft breeze carrying off her scent
To the sun shining upon her
Making her floral skirt bloom
And her hair gleam
Like little raindrops
Pierced by a beam of sunlight

Dear sun, touch my neck
Inhale my Jasmines
Burn my hair
And let the breeze play with my skirt
So that my thighs can be kissed by you



-LynnAA
Perfume is heavenly.
10/4/2015
Across a dry plain,
Heat shimmering,
Blur-ring in my mind...
Lost track of reason, lost my rhyme...
Rhythm gone to plodding,
Clodding on the burning flats,
Dust-deviled and limping over thorns.

Mountains are my only vision,
Forcing aching feet,
Tugging creaking knees,
Coaxing lungs, air parched
To breathe, to wheeze
Toward supernal heights,
Valley-ed torrents rushing
Cool and green and clean....

Beckoned thus, my heavy pace
Lifts lightly up;
The brackish slopping
In my old canteen
Reminds me that the way
Leads on to granite glories:
Woods inhabited,
Cabins warm against the alpine chill...
So I keep walking still.
So I keep walking still.
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