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Ooh, man
the cheating woman plays with fire,
but it is only smoke she leaves behind.

The maiden dreams of a knight on a white steed,
riding to crown her longing.

The widow weeps for dreams
she lost too soon
or never dared to chase.

But the married woman...
She is a flame kept quiet too long.
She burns to fulfil her hidden dreams,
and she will give you
much
without shame,
without measure.

So choose wisely, man.
And if you must sin
at least enjoy it.
Девушка с шикарным задом
Зашла в покой Сарданапала,
За дверью неприглядно пала:
— А ну, на четвереньки встать!
И в этом кружеве — напалмом —
В упряжку бала запрягал он
Всех тех, что с миленьким ебалом:
— Так ты — ебать или копать?

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Paris, 2019 (c).
Decadence in lace.
Sardanapalus today is anyone who turns lust into *******.
Ballerinas, **** stars, courtesans — all yoked into the same chariot.
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power.
hannah Aug 1
all i long for is to be held, not touched;
to feel safe in someone’s arms, to feel safe in someone’s presence.
i just want something different than the restless, hungry hands that have left trails across my skin—
something other than my curves turning into one’s favorite playground.

all i long for is to be loved, not desired;
to wake up to breakfast in bed every morning, to see adoration in someone’s eyes when they look at me.
i just want something different than those lecherous gazes that have undressed every part of me—
something other than the sight of me being a trigger for someone’s hunger.

all i long for is to be cherished, not owned;
to hear the words “i’m so proud of you” come out of someone’s mouth, to have open arms to run into after i win a game.
i just want something different than those words that slip out of their lips saying “you’re my pretty little doll”—
something other than feeling like a child’s toy, tossed aside once outgrown.

all i long for is to be heard, not shushed;
to lay on someone’s lap as i cry about my inner demons, to sob into someone’s chest until sleep quietly takes over me.
i just want something different than those cruel voices that pierce through my biggest cries—
something other than those cold orders even as tears of blood slip through in silence.

no matter if it takes a million years or a little longer than eternity,
i will always look forward to going to the world—
to the world where i’m something more than a pet kept on its leash,
to the world where i’m something other than a trend that will die eventually,
to the world where i’m held in someone’s arms that wouldn’t dare to shatter me;
never touched like a possession, never shown off like a trophy.
this is a sort of sequel to my "bus stop" poem
*******.
I don’t need your flowers.
Then I ran to the hill
screaming, dancing your name
into the sky.
“Follow me, *******!”
A teenage heart
with a woman’s craving for love
yielding, radiant,
beautiful,
****,
full of lust, honey.
Come, fill your cup.
Come, warm your blood.
I am your dream, teen.
I am your soul’s dare.
Come to rest,
come to burn.
My wine was stored in animal skin
aged in darkness,
waiting to be broken.
Sweet, sweet me.
Come and have me.
I dare you to my madness.
I dare you to be brave.
I dare you
to enjoy my wine.
Her hair red as rust
Sharply piercing my skin,
Tainting my blood
With tetanus lechery.

Time flying by
During our vigorous dalliance.
My jaw firmly locked
And my body spasmodic.

Her lust renders me
Utterly catatonic,
In an odd rigid trance,
Throughout my poor flesh.

My strongly bound jaw
Sealed with ardor,
Desperately reaches
For the warmth of her haunch.

This tetanus shall never
Be my ailing demise,
For its lecherous haze
Is of bound divine rapture.
hannah Jul 30
i’m still waiting at the bus stop,
waiting patiently for the bus that will take me to the world where you truly love me;
the world where you won’t make me undress to prove my love
because all i ever wanted was to be loved by you, is that too much to ask for?

i’m still waiting at the bus stop,
waiting patiently for the bus that will take me to the world where i’m more than just a doll to you,
more than just a pretty face you desire
because all i ever wanted was for you to love my soul too, not just my skin.

i’m still waiting at the bus stop,
waiting patiently for the bus that will take me to the world where you’ll stay with me forever,
another world where i won’t be thrown out into the cold as soon as i get tiresome
because all i ever wanted was for you to stay with me and never ever leave.

i’m still waiting at the bus stop,
waiting patiently for the bus that will take me to the world where i feel safe in your presence
and not like a pet that will always stay in the cage you gave me
because all i ever wanted was to stay in your arms and feel safe from every harm in this world.

i will always be waiting at the bus stop,
waiting patiently for the ride that will take me to the world where you truly love me
not for my body, not for my skin, but for my soul.
i don’t care if it may take a thousand years or a little longer than eternity;
i’ll always be waiting to feel what it’s like to be held by you, not touched.
heidi Jul 25
i'm grateful for scraps
just a drop of your sweet love
a taste of honey
he can keep me hanging on as long as he likes
secrets circle your irises like silver linings
and i'm not sure whose they are
because i feel like i give away everything
when i manage to meet your gaze

secrets play around your lips like silver
smoke
and i'm not sure whose they are
because i feel like i give away everything
when i open my mouth

secrets adorn your fingers like silver rings
and i'm not sure whose they are
because i feel like i give away everything
when you touch me

name it
ask it of me
i'll give it to you gladly
Donny Jul 23
I see him dancing
Like hell's flames
Oh, those candy lips
Never leave

Like hell's flames
The devil of love
Never leave
I couldn't bear it

The devil of love
If I ever lost those lips
I couldn't bear it
Hold me in your pyre

I see him dancing
Hair of smoke
Oh, those candy lips
Come to me
My first attempt at a pantoum
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