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JJ Hutton  Aug 2010
Density
JJ Hutton Aug 2010
I am a miserable ****.

Traffic jam thoughts.
Aimless speech.
Fever dreams,
coffee with no cream,
love with no pulse,
alone at restaurants,
            at grocery stores,
            at parties.

I have no identity.

Shifting shape, black to blue,
trading girls, red hair for Persian skin,
parents and gods,
politicians and lost purpose mobs,
all asking me to be sacred,
                            to be loving,
                            to be trusting,
                            to be active,
                            to have no spine.

All I want is a bit of my own time.

A grenade of change,
to end the coagulation of my brain,
to leave me hungry for anything
other than me,
didn't somebody say I was promised something?
                                            I was going somewhere?
                                            I was unique?

I am the same miserable ****,

As every other miserable ****.

The ******* that cut you off on Highway 62,

The person that complained about too many pickles,
on his precious fast food,

The boy yelling at his baby sister for getting too much attention,

The girl sexting your boyfriend,

The boy sexing your girlfriend,

The generation divorcing everyone it knows so it can fall in love with

itself.

All different,
in exactly the same way.

Traffic jam thoughts. Traffic jam thoughts.
                   Traffic jam thoughts. Traffic jam thoughts.
            trafficjamthoughts. traffic. Traffic Jam Thoughts. Thoughts.
Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Jam.
thoughts. traffic. trafficjam. trafficjam. traffic jam thoughts.traffic.
traffic jam. traffic, traffic, traffic. I am a miserable ****. Traffic jam.
Copyright 2010 by Joshua J. Hutton
Marci Ace Oct 2015
****** fantasies can be quite
A desire.
Would it be best to do it with your
Secret admirer,
Or just a **** dude?
Would you call it rude
If you showed up at his house
****,
Having conversations about your
Tide tubes?
Is it true?
While time pushes by.
Is it real?
He sexing you and cutting you
Off like a deal
Will your heart heal?
Your fantasy desires coming
True,
With a man heart cold like
Steel.
Think about it,
Take a moment and think.
Not every man loves you.
Next min he’s there and the next
He’s gone like nair.
Babygirl it’s not love, its lust.



-Marci H.
Bartholomew Nov 2018
Trapped in this madness,
This thing called love.
Addicted 2 the sadness
now my brains on drugs.
In the eyez of a savage,
tear stains turned blood
Now torn is my status,
**** the pain with the blunts &.....
Hennessy
Is the proper remedy
For dealing with misery
Killin it with the trees
Blowing it in the air
Wishin she still here
But life is not fair
She’s acting like she don’t care
I’m a man baby girl, we make mistakes
Sexing with other women but they can’t take ur place
Something brown between my fingers and a bottle in my other palm
Now she gone, and me I’m tryna move on
Wishing.... that she was still seeing me
Wondering..... what did she ever see in me?
Tell me love, please you owe me that
Now I’m sitting her with the **** and the cognac

So I got a blunt in my right hand
And I got this drink in my left hand
And I’m just
Drinking
Smoking
Drinking
Smoking
Tryna get you out my head
And it hurts me more when I see
That you’re happier without me
So I’m
Drinking
Smoking
Drinking
Smoking
Tryna get you out my head
Inspiration:
Drinking and smoking- Dave young
I've ******,
My friends make love

What about me
Attracts boys
Who only ****?

I've never made love.
Is it just bad luck?

What about me
Attracts boys
Who don't love?

I just want to have
A natural relationship
Not a business deal,
Where I'd use my body,
To buy love that isn't quite real.

Just someone care.
Just someone see.
I am not just a piece of meat.
I need warm arms around me,
And words so sweet.

Where are you
Boy,
Who can stand loving me?
vircapio gale Mar 2013
below the eyelid-waves,
another iridescence grows.
currents blur the view in pentacles of light
to rhythms of the waning breath
--warping what an artist's vision yields,
the canvas of the mind stretched taut
in hues to coalesce the old and new,
absorb the intertidal volumes
with keener intake,
firmest diaphram to lift the pressure out
and sink into pelagic origins finally,
imbue myself poseidonal,
renew the birth of "love"

i am soaking with it,
open mouthed my cry is swallowed by the sea
i am a kracken echinoidea
******* up the floor
of life exchanging me with joy--
of jellyfish and snail,
burrowed shrimp, eyeful gobies,
clowns in their anemones--
my spires swirling clouds of green
to carpet spotted sky with verdant wake
and springing there,
from crest to crest,
a body undulating foam, it rolls voluptuous to swell
the bioluminescent instant... taken in the vast, full span of time...
to see her born here,
'mid dolphin song and symbol crash of tide
protuberance of shore awash in seeming pleasure of the rhythmic act--
alive the goddess comes, into her flesh--
to widen eyes,
re-establish channels to the heart
as if an aperture of cloud
were opening again,
to end an ancient overcast
and usher down to earth
the lance of starlight that would reach beyond the wrecks of ocean depth...

so too her visage strikes the darker corners of the heart
illumes all buried hopes
of bottom dwelling wretchedness,
and draws the tide above the line,
littoral tresses falling,
steep in pools calcareous and algal
worlds remaking worlds within the contours sexing there
imagined limestone in your many perfect forms,
marble softness swimming in my eyes
awaken appetites of newfound youth again.
the ochre lines that stripe along your curves
let hidden ripeness waft across my passion-eye
and with the grassy dunes i lie, doze in wrack at once--
as arches of my sight are pierced with rays of inner sun
my seabreath muse purveys, inhaled;
i would see you as you are entirely,
disperse myself into aesthetic mist,
become the spray on coastal loam
a sundog floating in and out of forms
become your mullusk lust;
sipuncula embrace of benthic dust
and slip along the textures
of your progenation's flood--
emerge as one and many lives
becoming me, this vision
in your suds, your divination's scree
--the salty rooting of the coastal trees,
the sand, the wave and moon
upon the dancing kelp forestal out at sea...
shining in the winking foam and symbiota sand.
crevice and the length of dyads simulating one,
phallus, *****, and none--
egg and **** bed..
diatoms  flourishing  again...
in you i am the ****** my own gestation obviates
i am effluxion of all lives in balance
on an ever-swaying crestline of irruptive suds--
diaphanous array upon your porous *****'s heave
weaving in and out, continuing to blur
in riven sight and empty heart to fill
the blood containing rapid urgency
to feed, to taste and seek its nourish-all
when after having given up the possibilities of love
and having worn the incompleteness raw,
the obverse affirmation cracks the sky...
at last they burst surreal into the now
and lacking practice courting glory
stumble over habits long attuned to falsities unveiled
and drawn into your undertow,
all cravings wrung into the novelty of merging without end--
arrive, horizonal, and echo from the dawn of being more than one




.
littoral: of or relating to the shore
wrack: masses of dried seaweed, kelp found on the beach
sipuncula: marine worms
benthic: relating to the bottom of a sea or lake or to the organisms that live there
diatoms: algae or phytoplankton essential to ecosystems
effluxion: a flowing outward
vircapio gale Mar 2014
1.

dear feminism,
do i think of women
when i write to you?

why do i personify?

angry at an unjust world,
angry at injustice in ourselves,
have i been taught to fear you?
ignore inequity of fears?

or hide  
in the shadows of your salty curves
speaking soft with sycophantic tilt?

was this what mother meant,
portending talk of therapy
two decades in advance?

a bouy on three waves,
i crash against protuberances too:
limp didactics on avoidance for the victims,
waking in continuums of shrugging crime.

sameness differs in utopias --
every latent gut avers the right to spill.
despite the lissome quell forgetfulness contains,
my proper sphere will leave me
deafened in a wrack-dry
tidal echo--
'Fairness' stains clear beauty dark
as my imagined egos drown at last
from down our oceanic well of shame.

sacrifices fade,
i cannot write...
i write, and fail,
defined by sediment cliche,
reading women authors out of obligation ..odd desire,
and so in dim medieval-fashion
miss
the trail of monoliths erected
for a craven ease

2.

dear civil rights,
why were you taught
through prisms of boredom?
my voiceless reading left you to your rage,
while i communed with glossy nature,
private leaves.

how dare i clap your back
"congratulations"
at your tidy givens  granted
scars were open past my seeing,
and bleed still

while right here, empathy dies, now

dreams are bombed,
grafted to infected faculties
to wallow tended in a garden of injustice
erudite and dead,
i **** a bit i tell myself then stuff my face with food,
cover breath with smoke
and sleep in sour ignorance
no courage left to care.
blind grins bouquet the status quo
of rotted stems, discarded roots

i bury you with homeland fear
the killing silence filled with just intentions
for tomorrow

3.

dear feminism,
you speak for me, too--
my genderless ear attunes

cathartic sweep of ills
scaled beyond your other selves,
sexing into common chosen songs

no fearful tremble
at a mainstream backdrop reprimand--
to be a good gender,
--this gender not that gender--
gestate bigotry of symbol wombs,
cut ripe to cater to unquestioned whim;
no violent selfhood requisitioning
to closet inner innocence in pain

contractions shock in further waves
i midwife simple hope i hope
true fairness you have nursed in seeing death


4.

dear punk **** feminism,
marginal i ask as i perform
unstructured sutras on my heart
exemplar of a meta-freedom
burning in the core of threaded ages strung--
how then life without your voice,
vast silence unobserved,
the hidden anti-*** persisting
in our gender-theory--theorizing sterile norms--
sweet pulsing concupiscence
in our every waking breath
a pollinating zephyr tease toward
celebrating every feotal bathtub bliss --
unbridled ideologies unleashed
unmade into opining din

5.

dear temperance,
i vote you cherished
whirlwind
singing endless through the ageist ridicule
apparent failure in the civil warrior's eye
dogma blinks
denial of the rights you suffered for
but underneath compassion all along
i rally in your family's younger gaze
staring down,
questioning the steady rhythm of a whiskied fist

6.

dear feminism,
have i been taught to celebrate you?
have i been taught to fear for you?
have i been taught to treat you as a woman?
why do i personify you?
like some Sophia cybered up atop the forums of our age

blind and failing
i would be dust as well
like any rightful fading into dust
be swept along with all coercive screenings,
fear-born silences
immune to reason and the reasons of the heart--
rather than to live forgetting
letting go the questions giving rise to equals in a discourse
revising what it means to ask the meaning of


#
dear feminism,

when you are gone..
i for one will sing you
hope

to protest bigotry
a raging tranquil step
of care-filled voicing

dare an upward sloping arc
a dream becoming shared
to overcome
attain
inspired by once unfamiliar names

i will still be here,
the angry feminist
burning in my flagging underwear

brightest outrage at injustice
your deeper loves, fairness
selfhood honored
as if written in the stars
or ancient shorelines
-- you will not be gone
"She says, he wrote it--he says, she wrote it." -Lucretia Mott, speaking to the collaborative efforts of J S Mill and Harriet Taylor
Georgia Owen  May 2013
Nucleus
Georgia Owen May 2013
What does one gain
from completing the mundane tasks of daily living?

Laundry
Folding
Cleaning
Food prep

Vacuum
Dusting
Windows
Drain

Choose a color scheme for your home
A point of inspiration
"The History of Interior Design"
Choose your Lifestyle
Color your Path

What's the point?
Cable television
The Nuclear Family
Entertaining
The dodging of Lonelihood

Wouldn't you rather be a dolphin?
Dancing by day
And sexing by night

My furniture is coral
My upholstery is seaweed
Feng Shui by Poseidon's Design

Pulp Fiction.
hazem al jaber Dec 2016
let's try ...

life never lasts forever ...
nothing run forever...
only our moments ...
if we spends together ..
so lets do it now ..
lets get what we desires...
let's sexing up together ..

let's try sweetheart ...
let's fly so high tonight ...
to that faraway sky ...
to count all stars ...
through that bed ...
which it created only ...
just for us and forever ...
created only for love ...
to make it together ...

let's try ...
let's do it tonight ...
lets' sexing up together..
nothing lasts forever ..
only me and you ...
and our sweet moments ...
that's we spends always together...

let's do it sweetheart..
let's try this love ...
which we long for ...
since we knew each others ...

i'm waiting there ...
in that bed ...
which you know it well ...
there where we made love together ...

let's try ...
let's sexing up together ...

hazem al ...
Night Owl May 2010
Past altered states tests postive and subtle
******* So and so's ­teeter Paleolithic après time puddles
And submit terrible philosp­hies
Ashy stubble ticks politics 
and sacrafice to peer approval ­sacralige
Test probably appears stable
Top patriarch's able sudde­nly to
Pop above submerged tables possibly
After, something tests­ patience awkwardly
Stumps tarot practioners and *** testers poor­ application sterily
Topology plain, astrology scorpio
Torpedo po­wer aptly strikes to pedal antlers sour
Take particular appointments
Stop testing plea­se apply sorted
Terror power and sexless torn pigs
afterhours pen­ and store tips, plow.
Alter simians testosterone, pow!
As scient­ists type papers about sexing tasteless past alligator snouts 
te­sting partly after science takes party alliance south to pawn arm­y 
subtle tipped passion. artsy.
Start these.
pick atoms smarmy
T­ally past all sentences take pride
As stencils test pestilence. A­nd sigh.
The previous alterations simply tried.
And didn't work, ­hence the present
Path lit incandescent.
I'm looking towards the ­east waiting for positivity to peak
You're turned backwards nosta­lgic for something that'll never come repeat.
Robert McKinlay Sep 2010
Shall I open volley,
spike with clenched hand?
Acquiesce to athleticism,
or drop return?

Is there a score?
numbers imply a plan,
encumbered; ******* clad...
jockstraps and leather,
tube socks and man.

****** courts,
exotic terminology,
words of reduction,
redacted, redacted, redacted!
under spells of seduction...

What more?

Who the **** cares.

Piles can be chucked,
and strip smiles, 1 grain at a time,
throw a bone, throw another,
you'll build your own monster.

What more?

redacted, redacted, redacted!
join me down below...
I'll give you history,
it will set everything aglow.

What more?
**** more.

Questions?
redacted; for your own security.

Not Goliath,
not even Iago... wait, that may be whom you cast!
Laughter man, so much laughter,
I grow darker;
a product of your mind; that's just a reminder.

Had I plotted, had I connived,
had I been...
trolling gutters,
sexing the populace,
setting parties to war?
You gave me the part,
and the act was in pantomime...
improbable for paralysis
severed spine,
redacted, redacted, redacted.

You set loose scenarios,
and now I willingly oblige...
I'll take my bow,
and cunning smile.
http://www.robross.ca
© Robert W.G. Ross 2010
Emoni Jenkins  Sep 2013
Mania
Emoni Jenkins Sep 2013
The vibration
The pacing
The loving
The hating
The spending
Never ending
The thoughts they keep racing
The drinking
The drugging
The 5am clubbing
The meaningless sexing
The endless regretting
The lying
The cheating
The I hate this feeling
The panic
No sleeping
Anxiety streaming
The shaking
The fright
The continuous night
The struggle with words
I just want to be heard
The thoughts they're racing
The thoughts they're racing
The thoughts they're racing
Paranoia
Hallucinations
It's been weeks since I've slept
The walls seem to be screaming from the secrets they've kept
I'm over the edge
I've lost all control
This madness is driving me off of the road
But maybe down there I'll find some peace
All I really wanted
Was to go to sleep

— The End —