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Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
We're awakened to our insatiable longing for heaven
through both beauty and the painful marring of it.
For beauty hints to us of that for which we are truly made,
and its marring shouts that we are truly not meant to find it here.

We can be eternally grateful for beauty lost when we realize
that it's one of the great secret-tellers of the universe.
Still we fear it so and often fear even to hope for the beauty itself,
though they are a necessary cycle that fuels us on and drives us home.

We cannot deny or diminish our intense longing for beauty--
to see it and have it and be it, and we cannot pretend that its
dreadful loss does not press down upon us like a crushing weight.
We must let it crush us until our ache for heaven is excruciating.
Jimmy King  Aug 2013
Electricity
Jimmy King Aug 2013
A pulsing electricity
Fuels your computer
Which takes you to websites
You'd rather not visit
But that you visit
Anyway

It's that same electricity
That fuels the cameras
Which we covered with boxes,
A last ditch attempt
To reconcile ideals
With the world
We really live in

And when you think about
What fuels our hearts
And concequently our minds
You  might
Come the conclusion
That we
Are not products
Of the modern world-
The modern world
Is a product
Of us
In a world without technology,
can you imagine how it would be?
To not have any lights.
We'll probably stay home at night.

In a world without technology,
we'll lose forms of connectivity.
We'll not have wifi or 3G,
distance will be as it should be.

However, without technology,
We won't have people far away,
because we can only walk on foot.
Most will live at home for good.

Without technology,
perhaps there'll be more sincerity,
where more people would be seen,
not looking at their phone screens.

Instead they'll stop and listen,
giving undivided attention,
to the people by their side.

Perhaps without technology,
we would have to do things manually.
Life may be tough physically.

But with technology,
is our life really that easy?
Is the world really as it should be?
Are people living in harmony?

Or is there more strife?
More people losing their lives?
Or is there more pain,
more people dying in vain?

What about pollution?
Isn't it part of our contribution?
All the fuels and carbon,
it'll soon bring us to extinction.

Our earth today is now diseased,
life on earth is not at peace.
We can deny all this,

And this is the utter irony,
while it gives us mass connection,

It reduces engagement,
attention and perhaps even compassion.
"Across the globe, millions reported dying",
ends up being desensitizing.

Technology's connectivity,
leaves us more detached than we should be.
This is a poem on how technology gives us many conveniences and advantages, but it also robs us of many things.  I'm not saying life would definitely be better without it, this is to provoke thinking and to challenge the view that humanity is definitely better with technology.
Thia Jones  Apr 2014
Phone Sex
Thia Jones Apr 2014
This is how it goes
your hands will be proxy for mine
my hands will be proxy for yours
your fingers my fingers
and my fingers yours
what I describe, you enact
told in detail so exact

Just to begin
I squeeze your *******
knead and pinch
tweak a ******
give it a tug

Stroke your tummy
work over your thighs
move up the inner
where skin is smooth
circle around, moving in
till soft contours are caressed
through pants that burn
to be removed
that pain you to wear
and I see in my mind
as you describe
the spreading, darkening patch
that fills the gusset

Now they're pulled down
removed quickly, completely
and you are revealed
spread, opened, shameless

Gentle fingertips tease
dance in circles, barely touching
yet the fire within grows
back and forth, round and round
dance the fingertips
as both reciprocate
with growing pace
and firmer touch

I hear you gasp down the line
and your breathing quickens
as you hear mine
as your excitement fuels mine
as mine fuels yours
in our feedback loop of lust

And I tell you how
my fingertip would give way
to tonguetip if I could
that I can taste you
in my imagination
fragrant, salty sweetness
with musky undertones
the tip of my tongue now circling
then flicking back and forth
beating out the rhythm
that you best harmonise with
bringing forth your moans

Then darting down, back
between wet, glistening folds
exploring each ridge and valley
working remorselessly

Breathing faster now
with animal grunts and moans
directions of pleasure gasped
breathless down the phone

As fingers again
take the lead
find the opening
slip readily within
probe, explore, ****
find that place
on your front wall
yes, just that spot
that's a little rougher
and feels sooo goood

Add a second finger
working and *******
licking and rubbing
moaning and gasping
barely intelligible now
...yess...more...yess...ohhh
are all that have meaning

Finger three joins one and two
then the pressure builds
demanding release
and shaking and thrusting
grows to shuddering
and...yes...yesss...sooo clooose

******* faster furiously
till we both explode
hearing each other's
voicing of our ecstasy
in language intelligible
only in this one context

Brains and voices return
as we bask in the afterglow
and what passes between us then
in those moments
is the deepest intimacy of all

Cynthia Pauline Jones 01/02/2014
Mohammad Skati Feb 2015
A lone wolf searches for                                                                                           Innocent victims just to replenish                                                                            One's inner world that one lived it                                                                          For a long,long time ...                                                                                             Hatred never builds glories                                                                                      Simply because it means only that                                                                         Huge collapse of one's morality anytime and                                                            It fuels others' anger for those bad things                                                               That come out of that ugly hatred anytime ....
Daniel Ruiz Aug 2018
Emotions fuels my writing,
Like gasoline fuels cars,
Like depression fueled the
Success of those good songs
That i listen to while
My mind is driving
Probably on his way towards
Thinking of you.

Do you know who I am?
Please tell me who I am,
Then I wouldn’t be so
Lost trying to find myself,
I try to find myself in other people,

I’m just a poet,
A college student
A “writer”
A person that lost an opportunity
To be with someone who cared about him,
A person that, without consent, loses friends,
Thinking it’ll be better for them,
That they don’t get to know more about me.

And as you can see,
Emotions are the raw energy that
Keeps me writing,
The same as writing keeps me sane
From these emotions that burn into my skull
As the same temperature the stars emit,
Those little flying rocks in the sky,
That without hesitation fall
From the place they find more dearest,

It’s a good thing the sun doesn’t let us
Escape his grip,
And keeps us around
So he can show the moon,
How much he cares about her.

That’s why I adore space so much,
The stars,
The fact that the light I see and adore,
Is probably a star that’s about to die,
Wishing me goodbye,

So farewell little star,
It’s a good thing,
That you can’t see my last shining moments
On this earth,

So Goodbye,
Goodbye to the constellations of dying stars,
That fueled with emotions
Shine the dark away.

Goodbye old friend,
I’ll keep observing you for a while,
Hope you still have more stories to tell.

Because I’ll keep listening,
Until my light fades away too.
Brooke Robinson Apr 2015
Stupidity fuels me.

It fuels my ego.

It needs to be destroyed before I become a god.
Being the only one able to solve a problem can destroy you.
samuel hdz  Nov 2012
Florida
samuel hdz Nov 2012
3153 miles away I lay with a mind that's clouded with thoughts. Past Scenarios playing out differently. Over analyzing the present. Anticipating the emotion that I will feel in the future. If ever I was consumed it has never been like this. Regret comes and fades. optimism shares that same cycle. Happiness And sadness come in doses like sedatives.  The voice of jealousy tells me that hope makes me weak. Anger fuels my fire and logic keeps it burning. Yet voices, Medication, and the embers fade. The constant variables   are only wondering and anxiety. Peace comes in sleep and yet its hardly enjoyed.
howard brace Oct 2012
Stood rigidly to attention either side of the hearth, the two bronze fire-dogs had been struggling to maintain that British stiff upper lipidness, which up until earlier that evening had best befitted their station in life... indeed, for the last half hour at least had become brothers in arms to the dying embers filtering through the bars of the cast-iron grate, passing from the present here and now, having lost every thermal attribute necessary to sustain any further vestige of life... to the shortly forthcoming and being at oneness with the Universe... only to fall foul of the overflowing ash-pan below.  This premature cashing in of the coal fire's chips could only be attributed to the recent and prolonged thrashing from the Baronial poker... and a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the family retainer, whom it appeared, required spurring along in a like manner... and while unseen mechanisms were heard to be engaging, then resonating deep within the Hall... that unless summoned... and quickly, the housekeeper had little intention of making an appearance of her own choosing and re-stoke the Study fire while the BBC Home Service were airing 'Your 100 Best Tunes' on the wireless, leaving the heavily tarnished pendulum to continue measuring the hour.

     An indistinct mutter and snap of a closing door latch sounded in the immediate distance as the unhurried shuffle of domestic footsteps... not too dissimilar from those of Jacob Marley's spectral visitation to Scrooge... echoed ever closer along the ancient, oak panelled hallway without.  Their sudden cessation, allowing the housekeeper ingress to  the book lined Study, was by way of sporadic groans from unoiled hinges, door furniture that voiced the same overwhelming lack of attention as that of the fire-grate set in the wall opposite and presumably, from the same overwhelming lack of domestic servitude.
                                        
     "Had his Lordship rang...?" the Housekeeper wailed dolefully, giving her employer what might casually pass for a courteous bob... and in lieu no doubt, of Marley's rattling chains, padlocks and dusty ledgers... "and would there be anything further his Lordship required..." before she took her leave for the evening.  The notion of a sticky mint humbug warming the cockles of his ancient, aristocratic heart gave her pause for thought as she rummaged through her pinafore pockets, then thought better of it, after all, confectionary didn't grow on trees...  In bobbing a second time she noticed the malnourished, yet strangely twinkling coal-scuttle lounging over by the hearth, whose insubstantial contents had taken on an ethereal quality earlier that evening and had now transferred its undivided attention to the recently summoned Housekeeper, who was quite prepared to offer up a candle in supplication come next Evensong were she mistaken, but the coal-scuttle's twinkle bore every intimation of giving what appeared to be a very suggestive 'come-on' in return... and had been doing so since she first entered the room... 'and did she have any plans of her own that particular evening', the coal-scuttle twinkled suavely, 'perchance a leisurely stroll down by the old coal cellar steps...'  Now perhaps it was the lateness of the hour which had caused the Housekeeper's confusion that evening, or perhaps an over stretched imagination, brought on through domestic inactivity, but it wouldn't take a great deal to hazard that a lingering fondness for Gin and tonic played no small part towards her next curtsey, which she did, albeit unwittingly, in the unerring direction of the winking coal-scuttle.

     With the household keys as her badge-of-office, jangling defiantly from the chain around her waist, the housekeeper began inching back the same way she came, back towards the study door and freedom... and back into the welcoming arms of her 1/4 lb. bag of peppermint humbugs and the pint of best London Gin she'd had to relinquish prior to 'Songs of Praise...' and which was now to be found... should you happen to be an inquisitive fly on a particular piece of floral wallpaper... half-cut, locked arm in arm with the bottle of Indian tonic water and in the final, intoxicating throws of William Blake's, 'Jerusalem...' hic.

     "Ha-arrumph..." the elderly gentleman cleared his throat... "ah Gabby" he said, lowering his book and placing it face down upon the occasional table set beside him.  The flatulent groan of tired leather upholstery made itself heard above the steady monotony of the mantle-piece clock as he stood and chaffed his hands in the direction of the bereft fire, "Oh! I'm sorry your Lordship, then there was something...?" as she maintained her steady but relentless backwards retreat unabated, the double-barrelled bunch of keys taking up a strong rear-guard action and away from the well disposed coal scuttle... "and was his Lordship quite certain that he required the fire stoking at such a late hour..." she dared, "perhaps a nice warming glass of port and brandy instead" gesturing towards the salver, long since tarnished by the half hearted attentions of a proprietary metal polish... "and would he care for..." then thought better of offering to plump the chair cushions herself, having discovered Mort, the household mouser in the final stages of claiming them as his own, deftly rearranging the Victorian Plush with far more than any noble airs or graces.

     "Poor Mrs Alabaster, you will recall Sir, I'm sure..." a pained expression crossed the Housekeepers face as she collided with a corner of the Georgian writing bureau and bringing her to an abrupt halt... "her late Ladyships lady" she continued, indiscreetly rubbing her derriere, "whose services your Lordship dispensed with at the onset of last Winter, shortly after the funeral, God rest her late Ladyship... when you made her redundant... and how she's been unable to find a new situation ever since on account of her lumbago flaring up again, seeing as how it's been the coldest January in living memory", which in all likelihood meant since records began... "and SHE didn't have any coal either... or a roof over her head for all anyone cared... begging yer' pardon, yer' Lordship", letting her tongue slip as she attempted yet one more curtsey... "and it's wicked-cruel outside this time of year Sir, you wouldn't turn a dog out in it..." and how ordering the coal used to be Mrs Alabaster's responsibility...

     "Oh no, Sir", as she unsuccessfully stifled a hiccup...she would be only too delighted to rouse the Cook, especially after that dodgy piece of scrag-end they'd all had to suffer during Epiphany, but it was only last week that the Doctor had confined Cookie to bed with the croup... "as I'm sure your Lordship will recall..." as she attempted a double curtsey for effect, the despondent coal-scuttle now all but forgotten, "that below-stairs had been dining on pottage since a week Friday gone... and it tends to get a little moribund after almost a fortnight your Honour... and that Mrs Cotswold's rheumatism was still showing no signs of improvement either by the looks of things... and was having to visit the Chiropodist every fortnight for her bunions scraping... and how she's been advised to keep taking the embrocation as required".

     As a young woman, any disposition her grandmother may have had towards sobriety or moral virtue had quickly been prevailed upon by the former Master's son taking intimacy to the next level with the saucy Parlour Maid's good nature.   Shortly thereafter, having been obliged to marry the first available Gardener that came along, she was often heard to say "a bun in the oven's worth two in the bush" for it was with stories 'of such goings-on'  that made it abundantly clear to the Housekeeper, that it was far more than old age creeping up... and that if she didn't keep her wits wrapped tightly about her, as she threw a sideways glance at the winking philanderer... then who would.

     As for the Gardener, "well... he couldn't possibly manage the cellar steps at this late hour, yer' Lordship, wot' with the weather being the way it is right now Sir, seasonal... and him with his broken caliper... and bronchitis playing him up at every turn, even though his own ailing missus swore by a freshly grown rhubarb poultice first thing each morning", but oddly enough, "how it always seemed to work better if the young barmaid down in the village rubbed it on, especially around opening time..." even his brother, Mr Potts Senior, ever since their Dad passed away... "God rest his eternal soul", as she whirled, twice in as many seconds, a mystical finger in the air... had said how surprised he'd been to discover that it could be used as a ground mulch for seed-cucumbers... it was truly amazing how The Good Lord provided for the righteous... and even as she spoke, was working in mysterious ways, His Wonders to Behold... "Praised-Be-The-Lord".

     And how the entire household, with the possible exception of Mrs Alabaster, her late Ladyships lady, who doggedly refused to be evicted from her 'Grace n' Favour cottage...' the one with pretty red roses growing around the door, that despite a string of eviction notices from the apoplectic Estate manager... had noticed what a fine upstanding Gentleman his Lordship had steadfastly remained since her late Ladyships sudden demise... "God-rest-her-immortal-soul..." and may she allow herself to say, "how refreshing it was to have such a progressively minded and discerning employer such as his Lordship at the helm, one filled with patient understanding and commitment towards the entire household..." much like herself...

     Fearing an uncontrollable attack of the ague, which invariably took the form of a selfless and unstinting dereliction to duty and always flared up at the slightest suggestion of having to roll her sleeves up and do something... which incidentally, was the first mutual attraction by common consent to which her parents, some forty years earlier had discovered they both held in tandem... and "would his Lordship take exception..." feigning a sudden relapse as she gestured towards the nearest chair, were she to take the weight off her feet... she plonked herself solidly upon the Chippendale before his Lordship could decline... "perhaps a recuperative drop of brandy" she volunteered, "just for medicinal purposes", she swept her feet onto the footstool, then crossed them with a flourish that would have caused Cyrano de Bergerac to hang up his sword... "the good stuff, if his Lordship would be so kind, in the lead-crystal decanter... over in the corner by the potted plant", she caught sight of the adjacent cigarette box, also tarnished... "just to keep body and soul together, may it please 'Him upon High'..." and just long enough to brave the coal cellar steps and refill the amorous scuttle... "if only it were a little less chilly", she gave an affected cough... on account of her diphtheria acting up again, she felt sure that his Lordship understood...  Moving over to one of the book lined alcoves, the elderly Gentleman lifted several tomes from the shelves... 'My Life in Anthracite', an illustrated compendium' "to begin with, I think... followed by... hmm!" 'The History of Fossil-Fuels, a comprehensive study in twelve breath taking volumes' "and we'll take it from there" as he threw the first on the barely smouldering embers...

                                                      ­     ...   ...   ...**

a work in progress.                                                        ­                                                         1859
Big Virge Oct 2014
Folks It Is A ... " Fine Line " ... !!!
That ... CLEARLY DEFINES ...
The Road That I Walk ...
With Words That I Rhyme ...

Cos' Words That I Talk May See Me In Court ... !!!
WITHOUT Sean Or ... " Just Cause " ... !!!

Because of YES THEM Those In Governments ...
And Those Who They Send ...
To Enforce ... POOR Judgements ... !!!!!

But Of Course They'll Contend ...
That My Wordplay ... OFFENDS ...
And May Well STIR UP TROUBLE ...
And Cause .... " VIOLENCE " .... !!!!!

But It's Okay For THEM To Say What They Like ... !???!
And Declare Their War Fights As Forms of Defence ...
When Plans They Design Keep Causing PROBLEMS ... !!?!!

Well It Doesn't Seem Like Their Actions Are Right ... !?!
When Every News Night The Things In Our Sight ...
KEEP Showing Us VISIONS of People Who ... DIE ... !!!!!

Now That's A Fine Line I Have Re-Designed ...
From Princes' Great Song The ... " Sign 'o' The Times " ... !!!

So Don't Get Me Wrong My Lines Are Refined ...
And Clearly BELONG Where Fine Lines RECLINE ... !!!

Each Line That I Write Proves My Mind Is Inclined ...
To Write About Crimes Affecting Our lives ....

And It Is A Fine Line That Helps Me To FIND ...
A Way To  Express My Anger And Stress ...
About How We TRY To Do What Is RIGHT ... !!!!

But What Does This Mean ... ?!?
In A World So ... UNCLEAN ... !!!!!

What Do We Stand For ... ?
When Going To ... WAR ... !?!

We Should Take A .................
.............................................

...... Pause ..............

And THINK of Our Cause ...
Is Making Blood POUR ....
What We're Really Here For ... ?!!!?

If You're Thinking ... YES ...
Are You .... REALLY SURE .... ???

How Would You Feel ... ?
If The Blood Poured Was ... YOURS ... !!!

Or Someone YOU LOVED ... !!!
And REALLY ... CARED FOR ... !!!!!!

Well As These Lines State ...

It Is A Thin Line Between YES ...
...... " Love and Hate " ......

But Hating For REAL ...
WON'T Help Us ... Relate ... !!!

These Days It's Quite CLEAR The Dangers of FEAR ... !!!!!
But That's Nothing New The Past's Given Clues ...
of How IGNORANCE Fuels Individuals To USE ...
Torture And Abuse Through Crews Filled With FOOLS ...
Who THINK ... Hatred IS COOL ... !!!!?!!!!

Well Hatred Profiled ...
Does NOT Lead To Smiles ...

It Leads To A Place ...
That's NOT Quite So Great ...
And Leads Us Through Leaders ...
Who Like To .... DICTATE ....

Like Those Around NOW .... !!!
Who Want To CLAMP DOWN ...
On People Like Me ....
Whose Wordplay's So Neat ...

That .... Our Poetry ....
Gives Policemen A Beat ...
That Makes Them ... RETREAT ... !!!!!

See What I Mean ... !!!

My Poetry Seams Are Suitably Clean ...
And Walk A Fine Line of Quality Rhymes ...
That ... BYPASS Extremes ... !!!

Because They're Inclined To UNIFY Minds ....
See That's How I'd Like My Wordplay DEFINED ... !!!

Speaking Your Mind Should NOT BE A Crime ... !!!
UNLESS What You Say Divides And Spreads HATE ... !!!

I'd Rather Spread LOVE ...
Through Kisses And Hugs ... !!!
While Most Now Indulge ...
In Acting Like THUGS ...
And Taking HARD DRUGS ...
When They've Had Quite ENOUGH ... !!!!!

People Like THESE ...
Make Me Want To CUSS ... !!!!!!!

But These Days I'm TRYING ...
To ... Rise uP ABOVE ....
These ... Wannabee Thugs ... !!!

Who Spread Talk of Dying ...
Cos' Their Words NEED ... !!!

....... " REFINING " ....... !!!!!!

Things You Put Out ...
Come Back Son DON'T DOUBT ... !!!!!

Now That's A ... FINE LINE ...
That's Got ... LOTS of CLOUT ... !!!
So Think CAREFULLY ... !!!
BEFORE ... Running Your Mouth ... !!!!!

Fine Lines That I Write of Upsetting Designs ...
Are NOT To Start Fights So REMEMBER That Line ... !!!

They May Cause Offence ...
And May Cause Arguments ...
But USE .... COMMON SENSE ...
And REJECT ... VIOLENCE ... !!!

Keep A Cool Head ...
Like Des Dekker Said ... !!!!!

Then Pick Up A PEN ...
Rather Than Make Attempts ...
To Bring Me DISTRESS .... !!!!!!!
Cos' You Want To SUPPRESS
A View I've Expressed ...
That's Left You ... UPSET ... !!!!!

THAT Message Is SENT ...
To Those ... JEALOUS Gents ...
Who Think They're The BEST ...
At Writing Fine Lines ...
With Words That They Rhyme ... !!!

Well CLEARLY They're BLIND ... !!!
And ... OUT of Their Mind ... !!!!!!
To Think That Their Rhymes ...
Are ... BETTER Than MINE ...  ?!?

Those Causing Us STRESS ...
Are Those In GOVERNMENTS ... !!!

They PLAN To DIVIDE ...
NOT See Us ... " UNITE " ... !!!!!

THINK About That ...
Before Starting FIGHTS ... !!!!!

Black On Black Crime ...
Has Been ... LONG DESIGNED ...

Don't You  Think It's Time ...  ?!?
We Start To Fight THEM ... ?!?!?
And Their BOGUS Systems ... !!!

That's Where I Will END This Simple Poem ...  

Cos' ...

Words In Those Lines ...
May Cause Me PROBLEMS ... !!!!!

Even Though Their JUST Rhymes
That Flow And DEFINE ...
How The Words I Transcribe ...

REALLY WALK ...

.... " A Fine Line " ....
An early foray into rhyming, that delves into a number of interesting subjects ......
Brianna Sep 2014
Tell me about your lavender eyes and your vanilla hair.
Tell me about you sandalwood smile and coal black stare.
How does the rain wash away your hatred for other so easily?
But the soft breeze in the summer fuels your fire?

Tell me about your wandering mind and your benevolent heart.
Tell me about your gypsy spirit and harnessed passion.
How does the ocean calm sadness so easily?
But the autumn smell makes you cry in the night?

Can you tell me why it's so easy to fall for you but so hard to make you stay?
Leigh  Oct 2018
touch
Leigh Oct 2018
I shake and people worry
I pretend I'm normal and okay
but inside I'm dead  
and while I have my normal mask on
they treat me like I am a person
not some depressed, psychopath
when I am normal to them
they hug me and this feels like ants
they touch my shoulder i shutter
it all fuels my anxiety
my leg begins to shake
my mind begins to race
I hear every noise in the crowed
it fuels it from
the sniffle to
the bobby pin that fell out of her hair
the world is so loud  
the words in the world come to me so negatively
maybes gives me no hope  
when people tell me I'm alright
**** when I tell myself I'm okay and I'm not
laughter makes me want to give up  on every thing
its the one thing I would give the world to do again
is real laughter
a smile that is not fake
because I know that I'm broken
when people think I'm normal it scares me
and i don't know how normal people do it
I don't know how to feel but I feel bad
Bryan Lunsford Apr 2018
Every once in a while you mix gasoline with fire,
Just to see what happens, like you and I in our love-filled desires,
With your body's heat, and the curves that sit within your attire,
I touch your skin where I feel my heart get set on fire,
As it's with fuming fuels within your eyes that tell me you are far from tired,
We kiss as that sparks a flame like a match or a lighter,
And creates a firestorm that can be put out by no firefighter,
With our love that is like mixing gasoline with fire

— The End —