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Shadows Rising Oct 2014
A musical trance seance under control by the hand of a shadow
A "Du hast" to a "Loco" To a "beautiful people"
A fraction of symphony, Sent by the gods of rock

Spiderweb rooms an corridor covered with the entrance to darkness set in place with danger light's, Strobe lights, an a fog machine set on auto
A haunted feel to a shack left cold an abandoned.
Equipped with superior beings and extended solo's of 6 string guitar's along with drum's and distorted bass guitar, setting the rhythm for our soul's,Feeding threw 4 large kickers.

This shadow was me
Venom
Decorated in crow face paint, Along with black attire to match my attitude
People came and went and came again
Supporting my and there craving for sublime sound
But one, the one, my goddess, my angel of death came to my dwelling, she came with a message

To indulge in my love

But also to give me a message of misery
To break me free of this chaotic world i was fixed in, with a bite to my fingertip the purified pressure was on
She wore the same colors as I
Only more dragged inline's
More pain, More beauty than she could see
I stared into her crystal corroded bloodshot eyes
I seen deep within herself
I saw pain, I saw hate for her fire, I saw hate from others
I had seen everything and nothing
I arose from my slumber to meet her in the darkness or mothers sleep
To give mother a great vision, a great dream and it was this
My angel of death, Meeting face to face, Eye to misery, Cure to disease, Beauty to ugly.

The words rolled off her tongue like the greatest embrace to a lover
Her words were sweet and seductive
Sprinkled with tears of a suicidal mind and a scarred wrist.
Then in a perfect moment are perfect tender love met with crying eyes and black lipstick.
Within that moment i ingested her misery
I took it and gave her what she deserved

Beauty

After the release of this lover's choice
We met vision and from there i seen the truth
I could never release her from this insanity
Only pamper or even embrace it
This timeless motion of misery will never stop ticking in my heart
Not till it expires!
I miss you.....
Styles Jul 2014
The release; so powerful; sometimes to feel alive: all you need is a reminder:

His guiding hand:supplying the demands to the upper-hand, across her belly button, to forbidden; lands. Parted  lips, her pink folds;dragging his hands down. Working each other: we ain’t fooling around; our bodies, over time. Dripping wet with desire.

Her reaching back; she leaned back. Over the edge; of the bed. standing *****. Picture perfect; she’s holding her breath, as he’s kissing on her neck, her breast, focused on her ******, the left. Right in my mouth. Long ponytail, pulled to the left. She is wet, under there, her underwear - pulled to the side, exposing her underhair; shaved bare, under there.

Fingers wrapped around him. Looking hard, she found it; tugging on it. Him pushing his luck got her pressing her lips against him. Pulling his belt out of way; biting his lips, he’s tensing. She, kiss as she play. looking a certaining way; tempting how she tempts him. She’s over the top, and its so overwhelming.

She’s all touched, from touching it; so fortunate, her *******, soaking wet, juices flowing. Wet spots, he’s all over it. Exposing her ****; to his fingertips: with his index; ******* next. Started working her slow, building up to raw ***. Pressure building, rising her chest. She’s worked up; trying to get off. Giving it our best. Her waistline, being pumped from behind, so smooth; the finest wine. Unsatisfiable rhythm, keeping them inline. Holding onto her waist, he’s so online; bending backwards, pleasuring each other, every time. Some may come and go, but they come together every single time.

He’s feeling it: the way its feeling, feels so good - a burning sensation: her  tenderness subduing his manhood; all is well, so it must good. Movement, with quickness, once his hips shifts, its motion sickness. Stroking his egos, increasing his stiffness, filling her deep. She’s clenching him, tighten, tighter. The feeling of him growing, she’s feeling him insider. Their wet bodies, skins glistening in the their fire.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2018
I’m drunk and surfing dating sites,
what a terrible combination,
what the heck happened to us humans anyways,
it’s 2018 and I’m online looking for a date what a predicament,

online but outta line,
not inline but still finding the time to go offline,
on nature walks where Nature talks,
telling me that it’s not all about the money and the fame,

depressed as fck but I guess that’s a blessing,
gives me the motivation I need,
to write these lines inline with the divine,
so I guess that makes me one with The Divinity,

I’m drunk what the fck,
I don’t even usually drink,
but then again I often do,
things I don’t usually do jeez,

humans are such a strange species,

humans are such a strange species,
but we’ll all be dead in a 100 years anyways,
so who cares take a sip take a trip,
smoke a spliff and let yourself lift,

see they say the only way,
to find your self is to lose your self,
not sure what that means exactly,
but they say a lot of things so oh well,

oh well,
spilling my heart out online,
in my feelings feeling all emo,
can’t have a good time but Lord knows I’m trying,

can’t have a good time or keep it together,
and this constant state of deja vu keeps washing over me,
pouring myself drinks from a bottom of Kettle One,
that was left over from a girl that came over then left me,

but I can’t blame her I probably deserved it,
because I’m damaged goods anyways,
broken hearted so I break hearts,
she should’ve known better anyways,

anyways,
what’s my point,
this isn’t a poem,
this is a warning,

stay the fck away from me,
let me die in peace,
leave me alone so I can write these words,
so that there’s something left in time when I leave,

going soon,
but until then,
I’ll write these words,
using a laptop instead of a pen,

because it’s 2018,
and everything is strange,
“When I was a kid we didn’t even have cell phones!”,
oh well holmes I guess I have aged,

I’m drunk and surfing dating sites,
what a terrible combination,
what the heck happened to us humans anyways,
it’s 2018 and I’m online looking for a date what a predicament…

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆
Charlie Chirico May 2013
Home Depot: Aisle Four: Shelves & Brackets.

Screws should be in the toolbox at home.
Toolbox...yes, in the garage, next to the miter saw, and
my old skates, the four-wheeled skates, not the inline,
never in line because of a rebellious nature.
A leather jacket kind of resistance.
A motorbike brilliance.
Now riding lawnmower equipment.
Dad's don't walk, we're brazen.

The ancient toolbox next to
an ancient cardboard box.
Scribbled on the front, the marking of youth,
my name, my print. Such ugly handwriting.
For God's sake.

But as for keepsakes:
The only objects that hold more merit
have more and most accumulative dust.
Yearbooks, pictured peers, so many memories
and faces. So many faces in this book.

The trophies. Number three. MVP.
A wipe of the thumb revealed the number.
And the rhyme is new.
Wit came with later age, I suppose.

Sports in adolescence, the physicality, the egotism,
it clouds critical thinking, or maybe wry remarks, too.
"Gay" and "*******" become some of the favorites.
And now this leads to an obligatory pun.
Grass stained knees. Sacking. The loser is gay.

How paradoxical!

Other contents of the box are various marks.
Grades; graduations; girls.
Three G's that I've
always evaded because of laziness.
Because **** dignity, right?
At least at that age integrity is as foreign
as the idea of it even being instilled.

How can you know if you're being raised
in the wrong?

Well, you've come to the right place.

I'm sure two examples is sufficient.

It's usually the acquaintance my son
brings home that opens my refrigerator door
before saying hello.

Or sometimes it's his friend,
our neighbor's youngest son, who boasts about his parent's
material possessions, while his parents ask
my wife and I if he can stay at our home for the night,
as they argue in the dark because the electric bill
is overdue, and their credit is scored
by the proverbial scissors.  

Not ones used to cut red ribbons, but
the ones you're told not to run with.

"Of course he can. I'm sure they'll love a sleepover," I answer passively.

"Thanks, we owe you one," he responds abruptly before disconnecting.

I could have said that owing people one
got them into their predicament.
But, like they say in the Good Book,
(The book I've always let collect dust,
not to be confused with the dust
on the box in the garage.)
Love Thy Neighbor.

And sometimes you never know
when you'll need a cup of sugar.
Thankfully I know there is sugar in the cupboard.
Milk and eggs in the refrigerator.
But no shelves or brackets.

Aisle four, Home Depot, no help.
I figure any will do, and at home
I'm *******, I mean I have screws.
I'll ask my son to help me hang them,
somewhat for the company,
also because they're for his belongings.

The neighbor's son will talk about the
elaborate woodwork on the rare chestnut
shelves his dad owns.
Surely it's perception, something
mood lighting can fix,
which his parents are arguing over,
well the lack of  lighting,
seeing as how their mood is already set.

My boy and I will place his
trophies on the shelves,
as I tell my boy I was number three.
Once an MVP.
And the neighbor's son
will tell me
his father was
number four.
atomic blue Jul 2018
da da dun da dun da dun
dun da dun da dun
da da dun da dun da dun
dun da dun da dun

there's a flash-- of lightning
lighting up the clouds
then in silence-- hiding
before the thunder sounds
and the sky falls to rain
and the earth quakes again
.
.
.
there's a rock-- sits rugged
dying in the shine
where before-- it bled
with colors inline
they coursed-- through veins
when it was alive
yeah the sky falls to rain
yeah the earth quakes again
.
.
.
there's silver-- set skies
to horizons of land
reflected-- in your eyes
shadows on wet sand
before the beach dies
by the flames that 'r fanned
yeah the sky falls to rain
and the earth quakes again
.
.
.
there's a portrait-- 't burns
smoldering to scatter
the atoms-- of remains
to times that matter
the sparks-- to our dreams
igniting 'ey shatter
yeah the sky falls to rain
ooh the earthquakes again
and the earth quakes again..


Sam@070118
keep strumming this on my guitar ...
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
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Minuscule Ego Jan 2019
Dysfunction and happiness
Don’t usually go hand in hand
But that describes you and I story
The wise-man n’ Elle, a soldier n Simi
A bad-*** movie in a broken DVD player
More than ever our thoughts burn hateful
And deep in our souls, the will begets cold
Sealing us close and everything left to feel
An illusion of end that tarnishes our peace
Cleaner we walk and little by little we lied
We each run a race to attain the crown
I, the heir of Christopolis: a half man
A king with no kingdom – a danger
And you: heir of feline, an anger
A shy queen with no freedom

With no changes - so I ask myself
Is this a sample of psychological fraud
That people uses sensual relations n’ beliefs
To sway their cause to others; positive or not
Let us redeem your soul n’ gleam thou purpose
Sell me thou beauty for luxury n’ fame, she says
But the boy had his way with words: he opposed
Curiosity is dangerous n' assumption is powerful
Staring within her eyes with an abominable face
He turn n’ stormed away with grace n’ disbelief
Struggling not to outcry in compelling dismay
Twas nice to desire, but hers is not a proper
Piece of human sexuality; a noetic disorder
The lesbians and gays - the political tool
A change in the city, a proactive lie

That errs up as Satan - a musical fool
First he sings: “I bring peace and wealth”
Next they proclaimed: “It is a Human Right”
Another piece of the puzzle of human sexuality
But so the Book quotes – an abomination I hate
“No man shall have intimacy with another man”
Let’s not rearranged n’ be lost – it cost our health
For war is better than the choice of homosexuality
They know they are doom, so they tend to mislead
Some sit in shelters n' compose fraudulent grants
Lies, patriotism n’ tradition to keep society inline
For as long as they can, so afraid to lose control
But wealth and health must go hand in hand
For we are more of a lion than the least
Quite divine and above every beast
"How are you? 25? Okay, why are you not 60? Yep! Why are you not 60?

Age is as insignificant as Gender. That's why you can't magically change your age - you can't magically change your gender and you definitely can't magically change your ***.

Proof me wrong.
Say No To Homosexuality in Liberia
Jeremy Betts Jul 2023
Maniacal laughter deployed to be louder than the roar of any monster

Most notably the inner

It gets harder and harder to adjust from loser to winner when just a beginner

Sold a bad bill of goods, nothing gets easier when older

I reside in my own temple but can't shake this feeling of being a squatter

Labeled by life as nothing more than NPC fodder

Never been...never seen a main character

In essence, I'm just practice for a dark passenger that always comes out of nowhere

Far scarier than the for mentioned inner monster but they conspire together

I am not now nor have I ever been a shot caller, never given a reason for no offer

Rather, I've been assigned a standard issue shock collar

Always trying to silence the hollar

Why bother?

Stay inline or find the hypocrisy of anarchy and counterculture

Tried bein' louder than ever before, pullin' from somewhere deep in my core

There's no one with a willing ear prepared to listen so no answer

Preforming to an empty chair reserved for anyone who might actually care

It's been empty for as far back as I've been allowed to remember

So I just stand there, wondering what's the matter, what is matter, do I matter?

A pitiful stature of a habitual quitter being quit on over and over

Want to know where I learned it? Just look over my shoulder in a family picture

This is a learned behavior taught by an unqualified teacher, both mother and father

Scream into the ether, I'm a dreamer but this nightmare ain't from a fever

There's no relief either

Not even first chair in the orchestra playing behind the dumpster fire of my own one man disaster picture

A head scratcher to any outsider, just another blunder to anyone who's ever been there

Next time'll turn out to be better

I swear

I'm a lier

We prefer the lie, at first it's far easier

A few too many attempts to hide the pressure, broke the regulator and boiled over

My present back lit by that there **** dumpster fire I explained earlier

My past rages unchecked through my future

A failure by every measure

No answer to why bother

...real quick...

This is off topic
But please don't let me become my father

...anyway...

Cover mistakes faster with lead paint over plaster

Pay no mind to the cancer that comes after

Dangle from a rafter like a fleshy chandelier

You don't have to guess what happened here

The dossier of the crime scene is crystal clear

You couldn't not get the picture

Even if the veil is never lifted, ignorance a problematic but gifted blinder

Gotta know I would never go and drag myself across the floor before arising once more just to lay on an altar

This has been nothing more than my dark passenger being front and center

How could I know letting it steer would lead to a full takeover of more than the arm and shoulder?

Will this ever be over?

Excuse me, is there someone there?

Has there ever been anyone other than me here for that matter?

Hello??

©2023
Jessica Rae Aug 2013
Oh this polite gentlemen,
From ear to ear he's got me smiling.
His arms are strong from everything.
He makes me, just want to, ahhh sing!
Lets talk about those hairy legs,
Find him when he's older, he'll be drinking those kegs.
one day he shall get there,
Hell if I can, but he will i swear.
Later at night, he becomes silly.
Plenty of time to daddle it up, yeah to dilly.
He's got moves to make your legs shake.
Oh for goodness sake.
Take your time, there's no rush.
For him I have a baby crush.


- - - - - - - - - - -
part two of the same poem.
- - - - - - - - - - -
  


Yes, he's so fine.
Talk bad, he'll keep you inline.
Nothing tragic will set him back,
No he never puts forth no slack.
Curious, he wonders how i work.
Hell, he's even asked me if I could twerk.
Country music, is his forte.
In the mud he enjoys to play.
Catch him riding in his truck.
You're funny if you think he gives a ****.
Going here and there.
Catches me looking when I stare,
No room for what i want to say,
Not ever enough time in one day.
(est.j.r.e.)
Behind every Great Man
There is a greater woman to his side,
Classy Gal that oblige,
Knows when to let him stand in the front
Witty enough to challenge his mind,
Smart enough to know he'll be stupid at times,
Food for thought yea
she'll make you swallow your pride,
Above the small talk,
Strong enough to over  look his weakness,
She's on a ledge,  
when he's on edge,
or compromised to inconvenience,
She's confiding her confidence boost
will make you feel like a genius,
Strictly lenient, the arbitrary venus,
The better half per say,
Staring at her face you'll question your own faith,
How could nothing make something so great?
For peat sake yes she's a bit pretentious,
For keep sake she'll never leave you defenseless,
she pays much attention inline she's no cheap skate,
New birth love born from the soul mate!
Styles  Feb 2020
sliver
Styles Feb 2020
Her skin
soft
like satin
rubbing against mine
as we sat-in
the couch
cuddling against mine
she's so ****
the way we flexing
just passing time
so close against me
can't hold it against me
its got its own mind
hand on your backside
thoughts inline with my incline
feeling warm on the outside
as ******* slowly slide on the inside
of the cover, pushing it to the side, to uncover
over the magic button my tongue hover

— The End —