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Bekah Halle Jan 17
Man and men everywhere;
Silver fox, gay, several times divorced,
But not one without baggage to be seen.
Pimped up with ****,
Waged by work or
Isolated through layered losses,
The modern man: a peculiar specimen.
It seduces the obvious why we turn to women to fill the void;
Upside-down desires? Or love that truly inspires?
Caosín Dec 2023
But would you stay with me, love? Would you stay here?
And you say: where?
and I think: Here, in the bed, in the house, in the city. Anywhere. Stay anywhere with me.
And you kiss my forehead, lips still wet with something, a sweet dream, and say
Goodbye, mate. Goodbye.
David Hilburn Oct 2023
The advance of spices
Found in today's shyness
The shrewd and spry, auspices
Of a count of succinctly, the face you make is...

My favor of sincerity
Such an uncertain cue, to look the other way...?
And know the silence, has a question in all civility
Does a sly thought, have the best of well, your day?

Dawn, the silver of the clouds
Has just fallen in love; with a coming star...?
Sharing only the mornings rustling, of breezes and towns
The taste of seclusion with a joy here, never to far...

Noon, the more we modernly save, the time
Happy was a heralded ordeal, of handsomeness's stone
We take to resolve, for another solution of sides
We are with, the kindness and the insist, of complication...

Dusk, and the fools of surmisal, have become realer silence...
The stare of synchronicity and its terror, love
Has the day for another you, with a realm to signify, the end
Of a wishing sky; a simpler earth, hungry for a covenant...

And the night of a lands court...
Made to order, and seldom, the love of forces we describe
As mercy, to an angel's heart, the very first vanity to flirt
Has you by a king, notice a queen share a kiss with life...

Any and all, the resolute masses, take their time...
Here, and the space for vanity to understate hell
With whose tongue; we know the contrite, the pain, and exodus of rights?
Of a coulding mirror? so did the candor it took to say desire's day, and all's well...

With the light and the shadow...
Spirit in my hand, or estrange a hair for a carnal blossom
I've seen your care become a salt, an imagination of milk and honey
That has a jew for you, a waiting wall of accord that has seen, loves and hates shown...
A candle for altruism's window...? nowhere, the other way around?

What is this..   that

Chooses  to rise up
against  the Mundane?
Why not just "status-quo"
the **** out of Life..
or better yet..
Build a self-centered- based
world of illusion..
or people of illusion..
or a partner, of illusion

.. or better yet,
an illusion-based, lover?

They say,    "Reality *****"


  I say,
(to that whole thought-process)


Hmmm;  Ah, Ya-ya..
I say..   "**** this."

You want "Life"?

pay its cost--
(it's admission fee)
I promise you that it is worth it.
It really is.

And the rewards
go on forever.  :) xo

(:
Feel this,  kid..
https://youtu.be/DuX2MkflGYs


#oh.
.
Anais Vionet Mar 2023
Midterms are over and I killed ‘em (yes, even the physics) - yeah me!
I spent the last two weeks like prisoners do, marking off days until - freedom. Now the pressure’s off and I can chill. Spring break starts tomorrow, and I have NO plans.

It’s dinnertime and we’re (Leong, Sunny, Lisa and I) in the Commons dining hall, celebrating, with bacon-cheeseburgers and fries (Leong’s a cheeseburger ******).

Lisa Turned to Sunny, “What songs are playing in your ears today?”
“I’m looping "Good Riddance" by Gracie Abrams - which might be a little gay for you.”
“Sunny and I were discussing that earlier,” I chirped in, “especially ‘Amalie’ (the song).”
“Gracie’s not dating that guy anymore? Lisa asked.
“She broke up with him,” Sunny said.
again?” Lisa gasped.
“Yeah, she broke up with him for good, a few months ago,” Sunny reported.
“I thought that they got back together.” I said, trying to remember my Teen Vogue gossip.
“Nope,” Leong said, stealing one of my fries, “saw it on ‘the shade’ (theshaderoom)”
“Wait, wait, Blake Slatkin - or a new boy?” Lisa asked, holding up her hand like we’re in class.
Sunny laughs, “Anyway, Gracie isn’t dating a girl but in that ‘Amalie’ song she’s like, ‘where did you go Amalie, I’m crushing on you.”
“Amalie..” Leong said, searching for a last name.
“Amalie Homin,” I said, “That’s what I heard, but I don’t know it on my own.”

“Ooo!” Lisa said, “Speaking of carols,” and nodding towards the main entrance. Leong and I had our backs to the door, but we swiveled discreetly as a girl I’ll call “Monique” (I’m not doxing anyone) walked in with a group of her entourage-like friends.

My roommates and I, being young, single and curious girls - have ongoing chaz or chaste debates - where we judge people (quietly, in a non-mean-girl way, amongst ourselves), to be either chaz or chaste - based on their general *** appeal, style and swagger.

A chaz is a playa’, someone who everyone wants (sexually) and who’s probably “sactive” - a chaste, is a wannabee, a poser who’s trying hard but is probably “involuntarily abstinent.”

A big, beefy, but not overly attractive football player would draw a “chaste,” “chaste,” “chaste,” while, say, a tall, dark, handsome physicist would earn a “chaz,” “chaz,” “chaz!!”

Monique, who’s studying marketing (school of business), is an over-tha-bridge black girl from Jamaica who was once in a band that had some low-level success. As we watched her strut across the room, I brought the question to Sunny. Monique’s fem-facing, as is Sunny, so Sunny’s the expert on-hand, “Do you think Monique’s a chaz?”

I state my case, talking softly, “Monique walks around campus wearing a t-shirt with her own picture on it, under a blazer,” I snigger, derogatorily, “being like, all these ******* want me.”

Sunny gasps, “How DARE you call smart, modern, lesbian women *******!” She laughs.

“All these lovely ladies, these rad, sapphic-gals really want me.” I amended. “It’s farcical, isn’t it? I repeated, fashion aghast. “Wearing a t-shirt with your own picture on it - like you’re a rockstar.” I put the ultimate question to Sunny: “Is she actually pulling any veejay like that?”

“You doubt she’s pulling any strong, empowered women?” Sunny asked back rhetorically. Sunny rolled the question over in her mind and declared, shrugging, “She’s a chaz. It works - for the gays, hundo-p."

“Hard to believe,” I admitted, shrugging in the face of Monique’s sheer tackiness. We watched the strange group leave, loaded down with goodies, like pirates who came and looted the area.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Farcical: “performing a ridiculous act,”

Slang…
sactive = sexually active
a carol = a hot, irresistible girl
over-tha-bridge = average looking
fem-facing = a lesbian
hundo-p = 100%    

“chaz or chaste” was invented by a couple of fem DJs on WYBC, Yale student radio.
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2023
~
Mermaid in a manhole
suffering hibernation sickness
she drinks in every sob like wine
her oceanic call reverberates
whilst speaking dead languages
into the receiver
but slipping off melancholy
and blown a wish
by hide-and-seek lips
she chooses an unfamiliar light

****** with scissors
throbs of undamaged energy
from her vernal equinox
but in love with a bad idea
and beyond the minimum safe distance
she no longer plays at fragile volumes
and careful times
hands playing butterfly
pinch nippled skin
she chooses an unfamiliar light

~
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2022
tonight the sky.

dark palette.

the stars are projectors.
the paintings of them are in
perpetual motion,
carry the zero.

conflicted still life.
of spathodea.
of pomegranate.
of her own folded-up *****.

it's all in how you interpret
the brushwork.
girls can tell.

a reassuringly dull sunday
turns to intrigue.
the busy girl buys beauty.

people are places and things.
lost affections in a room
in need of images
or at least explanations.

she looks for it.
she listens for them.

the sound of existing.
the sound of a quiet room.
a rainstorm or possibly the sound
of someone taking a shower.

blind little rain.

autosleeper lowers her head.
the economy of sleep patterns.
and little else celsius.

tonight the sky.

tomorrow a place where
one can ruin oneself,
go mad, or commit a crime
with paint.
lucidwaking Jul 2022
85 degrees farenheit and counting -
A sweltering wave of heat.
It filled and fogged my mind,
As I laid supine on the bathroom floor.
I stared at the ceiling and wondered if
god still loved ***** sinners.
I then questioned if whether he did or not
Even mattered at all.

I had tied myself up in straps,
Just to forget my body for a little while.
I had spat in the face of celibacy,
Only to find that the face was my own.
Looking back at that face, I contemplated on
Just how dastardly my actions supposedly were.
Reaching in my chest, I shifted and searched,
Trying to find the sin...
But nothing surfaced.
Old draft I wrote last year and wanted to add more to, but couldn't think of anything else to say with it, so I figured I'd just post it
jǫrð Jul 2022
Beckoning to me
The door open
The room clean
All except for you and me

I lost my mind
There on the floor
You gave me some
I needed some more

Pushed my legs back
Sank in deep
I didn't make a peep
For you, I'm meek
The History: I dreamt of loving you. Dreamt of your tongue, dreamt of your eyes meeting mine in the room in which I'm seated as I write this. That dream never came true but I can use it to cope.
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