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Ella Nov 2017
young writers arent hard to spot.

their writings will scream their age

words full of hormones

and stories not revised

just their thoughts spewed out onto the page
young writes like me
Zero Nine Nov 2017
I say I'm
not looking
for love but
I'm looking
I'm catching
cold glances
from eyes filled
with the weight of
sorrow been cast in gold
My purposeful fingers
reach up for money from
the gutters, this,
is just what I'm told.
Enter my ears,
enter my eyes,
enter my skin,
into my lungs.
I'm not breathing
oxygen if I exhale
byproduct. I'm out
of luck, won't press it.
I'm out of reason in
speech. Beyond
preventable death.
Regret, turned to
malice. Chest
compression. I
could have been
a good person.
What value in gold,
if I have you?
Poetic T Oct 2017
I was the light house gauging the trouble
crashing on the green seas beneath my
window. Rough seas, vocal waves of
perpetual ship wrecks..

I would gaze upon the shoreline
of my view, looking for any trouble
that could wash ashore. Momentary
riptides of hormonal adolescence gained.

What could take a life, a single moment of
not watching the shore. So I shone my  
gaze upon another's abandoned hopes,
leading them from the rocks of anguish..

That day I was the lighthouse of reality,
when below waves were gathering.
I was a light in moments of disarray,
But on that day no one washed ashore.
When I was younger in youth, there were bad apples, I don't think they meant to be, but on one day one apple had something that could end a life with just a pull of a finger.. so I warned the other.. I think I saved a mistake that day as he never took the challenge and the other was never so stupid to bring that out again...
Äŧül Jan 2017
Oh my gorgeous partner,
Have you forgot it already?

You spent the night awake,
Ended the action with a splurt,
And we spent the night together,
High on fairer hormones we were.

Boosted by your ethereal voice,
And the lightest clapping noise,
Between our action as you jump,
Y**es, up and down on my crotch!!!
A secondary acrostic poem.
I know this is really explicit.
I have marked as explicit.

If you don't wish to read such poems, simply go to your prefences and check the box of "Hide explicit writings" there only.

My HP Poem #1380
©Atul Kaushal
Äŧül Dec 2016
There was a girl named Nancy,
Her habits were all outgoing.
Once she became too busy,
Directly for nine months.
Thanks to all of her habits,
Blocked're all the incoming.
She did not want PregNancy.

She was impregnated by a boy,
His hormones uncontrollable.
Worked not any of the Pills,
Now busied for 9 months.
Used to each 1 of the thrills,
But none of it was avoidable.
Thanks to her being a tomboy..

Nancy was the girl in pregnancy,
Her repentance was no point.
Old habits are hard to go,
She may not be loyal.
Now she hides it,
For avoiding it.
The insult...

As for the boy here,
Aged just 15 like her.
He fumbled to suicide,
And she was destroyed.
She can't name the baby,
Not now, not now at all.
How will she name the baby?

As it was supposed to be,
She will behave a ******,
Will she name him Jesus?
Such things happen when even The Pill won't work.
Practice maturity and patience forever and ever.
An unconventional poem by my standards.
My HP Poem #1357
©Atul Kaushal
Paolo Garcia Jul 2016
Rhythm & Beats, take me over
Go through my temple
   through skin-deep,
   through my bones
             release your voice, EDM whispers

Tickle my bones,
    dance with me
    with your electric,
         wavey hands

Release my intense feelings,
     trigger every part of me,
       my hormones, my body
                   help me
                           *feel it
I wrote this while listening to the song "This Is What You Came For" by Calvin Harris Ft. Rihanna.
LD Goodwin May 2016
{Act One-Darkness}
<>
There are no stars tonight,
only the cold lifeless dark.
No hearts on fire,
nor passion plays.
Only the faerie dance of fire flies,
and the myth of love.

{Act Two-Searching}
<>
Are we just bags of hormones
either fortunately or unfortunately
imbued with the chemicals of life?
Will there be a day that we will be singled out
for our levels of hormones?
Will a new prejudice arise?
Oh... she's 68.3% hormonal,
he's 97% hormoneless.....
Will there be hormone police,
checking your levels before you buy a gun,
or have a baby,
or get married?
(I should have reversed the order of those lines.)
Are we just bags of hormones?
Can we blame the lack of, or the abundance of,
the chemistry in our bodies,
infecting the knee **** reactions of our power hungry egos?
Menopausal, testosteroned, endorphined, dopamined,
all influencing the limbic system.
Soon, very soon a storm is coming.
A storm complete with tattooed bar codes
describing our perspective hormonal levels.
In the year 2025,
separated by island walls.  
Are we just bags of hormones?

{Act Three-Light}
<>
You can't love me,
you don't love yourself.
If and until you completely love yourself,
you can not completely love another.
The level of love that you have for me,
can only be the level of love for yourself.
You can't love me
........not yet.
I have no rage within me
Just raging hormones
A testing water
To patience.
Kate Lion Nov 2015
a hand.

my breathing slows
i fight back the throbbing in my forehead

"what's wrong?"

i bury my tear-stained face into his chest
he slides onto the bed
pulls me tight
rubs my back

"it's okay.
it's all okay.
it's okay."
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