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Uncrowned King Nov 2017
I've met you too soon,
Too soon we were in love

But it felt so wrong in many ways,
I love you anyway.

You have decieved my stubborn heart,
Tamed my obnoxious soul,

Never have i imagined such horror—
Your smile became my hope.

But little did we know,
The universe disagreed on us

I want you so badly
But the world seemed to doubt me

It's time to go now
Thank you, i had so much fun

I know it's too soon,
But see you on our next blue moon
Made this for a special friend of mine
Jonathan Nov 2017
Wash, wash
away this shame
wash, wash
away my shadows
wash, wash
away this corrupted soul
these blurred mindless intentions of "trying" to,
wash, away
my assumption of my entitled view of rightousness
wash, wash
away my selfishness wash, wash
away my carelessness of stealing your safety net by sabotage
wash, wash
away my ******* to evil wash wash it all away...
Please tell me what the made you think about
Simon Soane Oct 2017
The essences of amazing
are etched on your face
before beautifying
but please,
if you want,
make up away
until lips touched
with colourful sticks shine
a allure with less
and more.
Nothing says I love you like swollen lips and saliva dripping down my chin. Do you like me when I'm messy and wild with my hair remembering your fingers? Pornstars smile when they ****, but I beg instead. I arch for you so beautifully. When my cheek is pressed to the sheets and you take a handful of my hair and force me to curve - that's dedication. I entertain for you. Wear pretty lace for you. I get on top on bottom on my side on my knees for you. I want abuse from you. Leave rope burns on my wrist. Leave welts on my ***. I want you to rip my hair from my head. Why don't you spread me out for you? Why don't you push my boundaries? I'm ******* but you don't mean it. I don't want comfort. I want aching shoulders and rope tracks. I want handprints on the inside of my thighs. I want to* hurt. *Last night I was begging you to break me. I wanted to feel you today. I wanted there to be holes in the walls and blood in my mouth. I wanted all the hate I've been carrying to come out of my mouth while I screamed your name. But you don't hate me. And I don't "make love." Because Lord knows I can't love you without my clothes on.
"I prefer to make love happen,
                              than talk about love
                                                        and waste my time."
Arlene Corwin Sep 2017
Pull The Plastic From The Sea

Un-political, no single placard,
Expressing view through rhyme and meter,
This appeal in un-bombastic, modest ways,
It says:
We have to save the planet.

All and you have heard this
Twenty thousand – at the very least -
Repeated so that
You’ve put cotton in your ears,
Forgotten all those many years
Cliché-d, near inappropriate.

And here I sit,
The **** increasing day by day –
This final phase,
Little me in what feels pointless.

Trifling, trivial, inconsequent small
Plastic forks and plastic bags -
They can’t mean much compared to wars.  
Why get excited over bags, while cars
Of aging metal fill the holes,
Oils and chemicals **** corals;
Toxins all the rest.

Barring fishing fish for shekels,
Killing off the planet’s whales,
Slaughtering live things with scales,
Things with tails and entrails
I implore you not to put
                                     more plastic
In the growing, unavailable and sickly sea.

Pull The Plastic From The Sea 9.22.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II; Nature Of & In Reality; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Nature II;
Arlene Corwin
Make this the make this the mantra of your day.
Eleanor Rigby Sep 2017
how do you make fire,
she asks me.

i steal it off your eyes
every time
you think about him

and it burns.


-- Eleanor
Sam Pagunuran Sep 2017
"Turn off the lights."
"No, I want to see you."
"You won’t like what you’ll see."
"I’ll be the judge of that."
"…"
"You’re beautiful."

We didn’t do anything that night. Her moans, whimpers and tears are not because we’re naked and I’m halfway inside her. But because I told her something she never heard from anybody before. And she is truly beautiful. For her body was like an unfinished sculpture – uneven in some parts, rough and rigid like she was made from children’s clay instead of marble. I was the one who saw the beauty in it, the first man (and hopefully the last). She is perfect. She’s a masterpiece that doesn’t need finishing touches. She’s beautiful just the way she is.

"You’re beautiful."*

I keep looking at myself in the mirror to see what he sees in me. I couldn’t find it. I tried to look at my body to find the reason why he said that. There’s none. And I feel happy rather than sad because I couldn’t find it. There’s always something different about his eyes anyway. The way his irises are too big and too black like a pair of black holes that will **** everything he laid his eyes on. Maybe he did. His eyes ****** out my imperfections. And I’m glad he sees everything differently. I needed that. I need him, I guess. I’m beautiful. I’m a masterpiece.
Jose H Sep 2017
In the morn
I sit tall from my sound slumber
Standing tall in the bathroom mirror
All to ask myself
How could I
A simple man,  make you the happiest woman?

Let me ask
Are you happy?
Do I make you happy?
Do I make your soul dance?
Do you smile?
Smile because of me?
Answer me this
For I must know
To fulfill my dream
To make you the happiest woman alive

Am I too quiet?
Am I too bold?
Too odd?
Too pushy; demanding?
Oh, wont you speak
I must know
To fulfill your happiness

Don't you know?
I wish for nothing more than the smile
A smile so beautiful
To go from ear to ear
So won't you tell me
Do I make you happy?

No matter the answer
I will make you happy
One day
The happiest woman alive
Till the day I die.
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