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Nupur Sep 16
Another Year has been passed
No Regrets in my heart
I turned a year older today
with choice of choosing another path

Sun Shines upon me
With the morning comes a new day
Once again that life is waiting
Full of actions and adventures on my way

A Lil older and mature
Some stays and some are gone
Still have no clue in my head
Where my life is taking me with each breath

The Path is unknown so am I
Filed with tears in my eyes
Its not that i am afraid
Just because I have no one to hate

Its a beginning of a new chapter
Confused and yes still scattered
What beholds the future
I leave that onto God
I know he will look after

Today i turned an year older
Now i have nothing to fear
Facing the challenges with more toughness
showing a side of a grown up with some silliness

Gazing at the stars
is still what i like
Age is nothing but a number
My time has come to strike

Being alone is not that kills me
The society that is so vulnerable
makes it hard to be at peace
We are what we want to be
Here to give an example of humanity
and let other lives to live with dignity.
Kerry Jul 28
She took my face and planted it below her waist
Stick your tongue out have a taste
I fell in love with it
Anyone can hit it
But it takes an artist to Picasso
A master piece
At least
Unleash the beast
A kiss to every crease
So lets start off slow
Latricia taught me everything I
needed to know
She gave me the desire and passion
Told me eat it in this fashion
Pay attention to every client
Listen to her curves no denying it
Make her squirm take your time and learn what makes her yearn
Draw your tongue around the ****
Until she screams out a bit
Some like circles some like twirls
Dont be shy give it a swirl
The taste is magnificent
Like the first piece of fried chicken after lent
I consider myself an assassin
After the spasm that leads to *******
So I'll lick swirl twirl flick and ****
Poke kiss plant slide spread
Until you get don't stop but please stop
My pu**y might pop
Maybe our past version
could never make it work.
Maybe they weren't meant to be.
They knew to little
and felt too much.

But now that we've picked up
our broken pieces
and rebuilt ourselves.

Reconnected with ourselves.
Changed, grown
and matured.

I wonder if it is meant to
be between these two
evolved souls.
Kerry Jul 21
You're gorgeous I mean outrageous
God tore you from His book
Pages
I long to be your boo
Code blue
Call the doctors and specialist
I'm sure it's lust
But you're low key dangerous
So let's talk about what we must
I wanna bust inside
Slip and slide till I'm tongue tied
And my tongues tired
My hardness is mummified
A little ride
Full of passion sweat and masculine bravado
Watch my ego
Matching paces as fast or slow you go
I want you something fierce maybe more than I wanted another being
Weak knees and feening
Words like explode
Ghost or beast mode
Give you this work with a cheat code
Can you feel it in Florida
Imagine I tore it up
Sopped and spent
**** lent
No hypothesis no experiment
A little dome
Deaf ears would hear the moan
Minds blown
Neurologist not needed brains gone
*** **** ******* or making love
No imagination or making it up
Short and tuff
Thick in some
Pull you close and whisper can I ***
Dejanee
Cotton Candy Jun 16
a pearl sat on the softest piece of you, 
at the crossroads of your hips. 
I lean in and kiss it, the delicate taste of salt,
and my cold nose is warmedby your skin, 
the gentle smell of aftershave and flesh.
I look up at you, your prickled jaw looks back, 
you look at your eyelids,
the sensation overcoming you.
that little pearl, a bleached version of your skin,
it is the riches of a thousand oceans.
Frowning Apr 30
8
I thought I was a living God,  
I was brought-up-by-poetry,
I was just an unjust fraud,
I applaud : the , "keep on just sewing me,"
I nod to go toe2toe
4 every  blow4blow, blowing, me
I clawed up
shot up, yup I got up
got caught .

Taught,
I all for naught.
Not the way I was brought up.
Yeah, man I can kick it. Yeah,
this sick stick em up kid.
Mr. Black-and-blue
how you got caught with each low elbow so low,
burned& turned:
head-is-full,
pedestal pirate,
a tyrant,  

that forgot about poetry.
beat by a trick-by-trick treat, so sweet
gets to be ******,
So,
******:
            a rich nose itch to be sneezy.
I unknowing, I queasy  
I paid the cost to get lost, and uneasy,
easygoing was easy,  
I used. To tease me,
U'used.  To disease me. I got to get going,
became afraid of heights just for growing up,

I guess, a messed,
you, know-nothing: know nothing
I know I was was better with poetry.
the half-man that I am, I only,
am' lonely,
just knowing me.
The lowest of lows
was never as low as
me.
edit later
Nat Lipstadt Apr 18
~~~

“To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.”  Henri Bergson


well in that case,
I’m either the most immature teen here,
or Rip Van Winkle

the re-creation process is six, nearly seven,
decades long (you thot days, ha, no way),
can’t recall the last name
I called myself

the delving, the researching, the forgetting,
the fifty first dates of no short term memory,
the checkdown, throwback Thursday of
did I write that?

no recollect, the pretense of
prehensile strength to touch
you and me simultaneously
might, could be true,
if you claim I authored it,
ok with me and all that

life taught me this,
the one who oft  hangs around
very young kids
learns a lot,
and soon recognizes

maturity indeed endless
but not senseless
just a poem-of-the-day process

indeed

every sense says the minute difference
between this morning and this approaching midnight,
an opportunity to grow up, stand straighter, uprighter,
write down my failures one more time,
cause that is the sterling hallmark impressed upon
thyself, ourselves,
that is genuine maturity,
the courageous wisdom to start all over again

the clock has transgressed,
moving past
the 12:00am digits,
which for cause
makes me giddy,
it’s permission to write a new one,
of course,
maturely thinking I still got one within,
a newbie, an aged day-old brand new baby,
a poem,
of course

god bless, I’m all grown n’ growled up,
with wisdom to know I don’t got nada,
but own the immature youthful courage of maturity,
to keep on trying, endlessly,
being your obedient-servant
~~~

p.s. this is kind of love poem of thanksgivings,
a love poem with no misgivings,
a thank you for the fragments of sharing -
hold so dear,
the best reason to mature,
the best reason to change,
the best reason to write
right now, here comes the mojo
my newest oldest friend,
reminding for the last and first time

that I’m all growed,
using the bigliest words I’ve known
to say baby, hey baby,
good night good morning
write us a poem,
a thank you note,
from one who blessedly forgets his name,
day in and year out


For that guy,
you, that ancient kid,
That poet-in-retrograde

so rewrite the title, a refresh,
are you immature enough to write?

1:12am

~for the crew~
Do I consider myself as Mature,
Now, That I have started to understand POETRY?
Are we even complete without poetry in our lives?
a M b 3 R Jan 16
when we were young we all wanted to grow up
but now that we are all grown up we want to go back to when we were young

when we were a child we were carefree, naive and playful with much time to spare
now that we are all grown up we are trapped in our own cells throwing the keys out
time slipping through our hands
as if we are trying to hold water with our bare hands
no matter how hard u try to keep it the more it goes away
and all we wanted when we were young was to grow up?
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