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The beauty of her being
Jumped around like a rabbit skiing

Longing for procreation
Of inner stagnated frustration

Like a tormented tiranic tsarina
Looking for the sensual ballerina

The question posed: 'What is illusion?'
And where is it crossing reality intrusion?

Or is there no debate?
The goal merely is to copulate.
The original version is on https://dagenzonderweerga.blogspot.nl/2017/09/rabbit-fornication.html
Miriam Marcus Jul 2017
If that will be that, then
breathe it while it lasts.

We could have grabbed
each others' hands and
stretched our existence,
turned time's fabric to
our bed and blanket,

but this is it, as I feel your
sweat and sweet breath I
prepare to feel the repeat
sequence, I repeat it

The empty smile
spreads cheek to
cheek

She's beside me in
splendid silence, I
whisper

my regret over driving
such high speeds, when
I know for a fact, the road
and its changeless dangers
to her saintly, sleeping form.

I'm sleepless.
It happened again the other night. I let it happen again the other night.
Her smile filled my head with stars, made me see futures and endings.
Things always end the same way. Tucked into my sheets, waiting for
the newborn morning, after killing dreams of days to come.
When will I stop?
M Harris Jun 2017
Fractal Fountains Of Her Shattered Grace,
Radiating Sanguine Light Scattered Across Hyperspace,
            
Cinematic Stories Of Her Synthetic Heart,
A Pianistic Fairy Sonicating Into An Illusionistic Art,

Through Liquefied Eternity & Decoded Divinity,
She Glides With Her Electrified Wings Illuminating Into An Elegy,

Feral Essence & Mellifluous Fluorescence,
Resonating Luminescence Of Her Imperious Quintessence,
    
Fragile Fragments Of Her Experimental Masquerade,
Sterile Rudiments Isolated Forming Into Crystal Palisades,

Metallic Frequencies & Cherished Reflections,
****** Transiencies Starlit In Her Smooched Seductions,
  
With A Touch Of Insanity & Afflux Of Ecstasy,
Her Carnal Femininity Bleeds Of Promiscuity,
    
- 05:09AM
Hannah Sep 2016
When I was a child,
I made choices
that changed
my life forever.
These choices,
I realize upon reflection,
were devious in nature.
Very few
have come to understand
my reasonings
for such promiscuous acts.
When these acts came to light,
I was in my senior year
of high school.
Make no mistake,
these normally happy times,
were the worst days of my life.
Day in,
day out.
I endured silent stares,
snickers,
torment to extremes
no child should bare.
I hit rock bottom
before the age of 18.
I felt I could no longer
show up to school,
eat,
or,
love myself ever again.
Silently,
I turned inside myself.
I became so distant,
so numb.
Just when I thought I was finished,
and could no longer go on,
something peculiar
began to stir in the
depths of my soul.
I tapped into a well
of endless love.

I began to realize my path
in life would never be easy,
but,
I knew it would all
be worth it one day.
My choices at this fragile age
humbled me in ways
my peers would never understand.
I started showing up to school
with my head held high.
I had already endured
the worst of my pain.
And from that pain,
I pulled power.
By human nature,
we are attracted to
what we do not understand.
Not even I understood who I was
during this period of my life.
I thought I was hated,
despised,
by anyone and everyone.
But,
I soon discovered that I was wrong.
I was not hated
for what I had done.
It seemed it was
quite the opposite.
By nature,
I am accepting to anyone
who crosses my path.
This seemingly simple
fact completely contradicts
the decisions of my past.
I make people think.
How could she have done
something so out of character?
To this very day,
I have never been asked
directly about my past.
I find it quite fascinating.
After 3 long years,
No one has had the courage to ask,
"Why"?
So,
I have never given an answer.
I am waiting for the day
someone finally breaks the ice.
When they do,
I will simply ask,
*"Why do you think I did it"?
CJ M Sep 2016
From the depths of the ocean in your body, I always tend to find the geysers of satisfaction.
Breaking your body down in ways that make the profession of love minor to us both.
When we speak, the words flow like waterfalls that chip away the ice around your frozen soul and bring the heat of a thousand ages under frost now freed of the gymnophoria, the mental ******* that society does to it.
You are opened.
My cocoa skinned Cinderella, chocolate to the taste and caramel to the senses.
You are my forbidden treat that I indulge in with inconsistency, and when I leave, you always melt into the hands of evil habit.
Tears in the eyes of which I had only known happiness, story upon story uncovered on your emotion and the only thing I could do is ****** comfort you with the sailing a sad ocean.
I never did tell you I loved you, and now I regret it.
Maybe if I would’ve said that word, that rope wouldn’t have ended around your neck.
Maybe the wry smile of mischief wouldn’t have been replaced with the scowl of a year in love’s drought.
And with the tears you cried for me, I made my armor, an armor of strength I got from pushing you away, covering my shoulders in snake skin and play the role of deceiver, for as you know, all us snakes love the rain.
You would clasp my picture and cry as if I had died, thinking too much of me and directing me message after message after message until my inbox and voicemail were full, and I ignored you.
I pushed you to it with my promiscuity.
“No love for the loveless”, they said. “All hearts are equal in the eyes of god.”
I tried to return your call last year, but I only got the voice of your mother, maddened in disgust and rage in me and crying when she saw the caller ID with a heart on it.
She told me what happened, and I dropped the phone and cried.
This is the love rain: the rain that only emotion can inspire, for I thought I felt nothing for your innocent soul, but as it turns out, you were my everything.
And losing you to suicide was my worst mistake.
Just thinking, man. Made this for a poem contest, they said it was too long, so I'm gonna put it here
jigyasa Mar 2016
I hear your words baby
Drip out of your mouth like honey
Viscous, oozing
So easy to get stuck
Sweeter than sugar
But rotten to the core
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
She was stark naked
I could see her ****
And her boyfriend had
Quite the **** on him.
His meat should have
Made him quite proud
And the lady’s ****
For crying out loud
Were perky and prominent
And quite nice to see.
Both of them seemed
To be pointing at me.

And I seemed to be
Eagerly pointing back.
They both very obviously
Aware of that one fact.
She smiled openly
And the guy broadly winked.
I started asking myself
“Do you think? He did wink!”
So, I winked and smiled
And let them see my bone
And hoped this meant I
Would not be alone.

I hoped they’d invite me
To sit on their beach towel
To slather sunscreen on them
Like a human mortar trowel.
There are not many things
There are few better for me
Than hot mixed couples
Into some fun bisexuality.
I have games for both kinds
And genders of human beings
All based on the stimulus
Of what I’m feeling and seeing.

Generally a single man
Is not lucky at this scene
A common concept that I
Always found to be quite mean.
I understand about jealousy,
An emotion foreign to me
So, I usually keep my distance
And behave circumspectly.
But when I get the go-ahead
I never hesitate very long.
How could something this good
Be considered bad or wrong?
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