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Hank Helman Oct 2015
Odd
What an odd ingredient sadness is.  

It salts a tear, bittersweets a kiss,
Hungers us for the things we miss,
Ever abundant, such a convenient thing,
I can find it in everything.

A death, a birth, I cry for both,
Gild a sorrow, a wistful hope,
Ripe melancholy I savour most,
Yet a pinch too much is a lethal dose.

I was often told it shouldn’t be,
But the clown that frowns was the perfect me,
Thin taunt and cackle, ghosts everywhere,
Sometimes I hide, but it’s still right there.

Perhaps I’ll woo this lifelong friend,
Embrace this thing I cannot mend.
Odd comfort in a peculiar way,
To know this thing is here to stay.
Is sadness a bad thing?  Why?
BB Tyler Sep 2015
Earth
greatest, grandest Mother

no metaphor here
but ten-thousand teats
feeding
all children
Love Sep 2015
I am worth more than my *******
My body is worth more than your ***** desires
If you lust after me then prove your desires through a song, written words or simple communication
Do not send me your less than mediocre ungroomed extremitie in a snap
With the word "*******?" written on it
Take you and your salivating mouth elsewhere
If all you see me for is my *******.
Hank Helman Aug 2015
Would that we could, clean like our clothes,
A jumble tumble in a coin machine,
The soap and soak of a wet warm wash,
The racer’s spin goes round and round,
Stains and grime,
The stench of time,
All down the drain,
No fuss, no pain,
Freshly laundered we begin again.
Just juggling words and playing with my inner rabbit
Cat Fiske Aug 2015
my second most read poem.
recording over 1000 reads.
with 0 likes,
in 3 collections I added it too.

the title.
is the reason there are no likes,
and the fact someone can't like a poem about *******,

when I talk about how they had lost their respect,
compared to any girl out there,

makes me feel less and less confident about the fact,
someone acted on my body like that,

for someone to be not only ***** but then physically abused,
and trying to spread the news

to show you what it does to a girl,
how gross you feel to look at yourself when ur mom wants to hurl,

where u lie when people ask you about your burn,
because you feel the torture will come back.

where you let anyone grab them.
because your blessed with triple D cups,

and at least you feel like you're not worthless,
and  because I named it grab my *****,
I dont Care,
I got no likes,

Like a boy gave my body,
No respect,

I think thats as fair to say as what he did to me,
as it's as fair to know I have a little over 800 views on the poem below,
and 20 likes.
about trauma too.
I don't get how this all adds up,

I got poems written about the same exact thing,
with 2, 3, 4 likes, not even 400 views some barley 200!
all about being ***** and abused,
but how come this one,
had been ignored,
and overlooked,
a ******* name,

thats cowardly
like a ******,
like an abuser,
were not one person could give someone respect after it was all taken from them,
and they wrote about it.
I just..
I ranted and I cut myself off, I am not looking for likes, but not even a comment, or message was the point I was trying to make, and it was really hard for me to post that, and I feel disrespected by who ever read it, and I feel bad for everyone else who has had the same thing happen to them. just where they can't get anyone to give them an ounce of respect.  and Again its not about getting likes, its the content, that I just feel got over looked due to a title and that upsets me alot.
b for short Jul 2015
***** girl problems.
Any text on a t-shirt?
Highlighter for ****.
© Bitsy Sanders, July 2015
Cat Fiske Jun 2015
I don't mind if you touch them,
but maybe she did,

I don't care anymore,
to me there just a pair of flesh,

but to her,
they're still innocent,

Mine have lost the specialness in the I want you to touch them,
Now it's met with I don't cares,

For I no longer have what she has,
those first time butterflies like i'm shy when I remove my top,

when it's the first time I show them off to you,
because they're not special anymore,

when a time in my life my brest made me happy,
were I could look in the mirror and feel good about something,

but they became nothing,
so now I look and see nothing but a black canvas of disappointment,

everytime I stare at my reflection,
every time I see my wound,

our wound,
because that's the one that everyone sees,

the rest I made are hidden just for me,
and I wish our wound was like that,

I wish I could totally remember what happened to my breast,
but all I remember was burning right over the year old scar again,

because the pain of remember hurt more then my second burn,
but the first time you were the one to burn me,

and I had hid it so well,
but there came a time where I didn't care,

and I showed it off,
battle scar? call it what you want,

if you wanna grab my **** go for it,
they have gone through worse assault,

if you wanna see them,
it's not going to mean **** to me,

and I am really sorry that thats hows it's been for me,
but it's not my fault my ***** innocence was stolen from me,

because of a *****,
with what used to look like the end of one of his cigarettes,
a **** poem, go figure......
Cat Fiske May 2015
My breast,
Has a scar,
and I don't know the real lie I've told to so many,

To be Honest,
with myself,
I barely want to know more then the lies I've told
on how I've gotten it,
but I learned that,
boys will hurt you,
and sometimes those things will never leave,
and that they may be,
the only mark you see,

different from the ones on my arms,
and there comes a time in your life,
where you're not scared,

but then you're scared of everything,
you just have to hope for a better tomorrow,
because everything stay with you,
physically,
and mentally,
Someone asked me about this and I wanted to cry.
Lenore Lux Dec 2014
No parenthetical this time in my rhyme, I'll lie flat the baseline like, Here are my cards, bro. Take a look at them all, bro. Get started with just the light kinds of gospel like, Bro, did you know I got a **** down there? Taken aback you say, What? Bro, did you know I'm packing a tackle, though so modest in stature, bro, instead of a package I joke split/second to cope and still manage to crack a satanic smile as I call my most modest hose a gigantic, titanic ****?

Word. You got nice lips, still, though, how bout you look up and get down on me, yo? Word is that I handle it with alarming aplomb considering how I present myself to the world. So what I got a culturally appropriated slab of ink tattoo yo. Just a guy trying to get along with the little he's got, and then on top of that I like to slide my **** n stuff. How about me too? Cause I can get down on you if we both repeat **** like we believe it. You got *****, bam, and plump curved fat just as all the girls growing up had, fashionable hair and even a soft face. You, girl, I can bend you over. Sure, be glad to bend you over.

Rough riding baring face to the wind on highways
I never thought I would be here deciding
Do I believe in others' abilities enough to believe that they know me as
If they would know a human?
Get close, pry in, to my life,
you'll find a lion, lonely, dragging coats of molted skin
with wire stolen from her other lives,
the desperate lioness devours the food she can.
How well we know ourselves in this hellish maelstrom, after all.
Natalie Neo Oct 2014
Blonde
*****
*****

Really?

I expected more from you.
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