IPM 2d

Some days I like to go outside
just to spit on my way
back home
it tends to give me a special
high
that only I can get high from.

Silent laughter, growing smiles
always form when I'm alone
it's better if you hear from
someone else,
than not to hear 'bout me
at all.

Bad Vibes Jan 10

You are the color of a kiss,
passionate and complex;
A cold, tall glass of water
just after you've had sex

You are the color of a road trip,
with windows down and sunnies on.
The color of a love ballad,
or a fulfilling and perfect yawn

You are the color of a silk petal,
floating to the Earth,
A limited edition coin
and all that it is worth.

You are the color of adventure,
and freshly baked apple pie;
The color of snowfall on your face,
drifting down from the night sky

You are the color of paints
that stores just do not sell;
A sit-in or a marching protest,
fervent and raising hell.

You are the color of the strength
that arises with the dawn;
And when a king is overtaken
by a simple little pawn.

You are the colors found in everything:
extraordinary, nonetheless,
But more than all of that combined,
a fact I must confess;
You are the color of love and life,
with all that magic you possess.




- t.s.

Ron Gavalik Jan 4

The best whiskey goes down
smooth as the silky tongue
of a curvaceous young woman.
There are times when we desire
sips from brands known to bite
the back of the throat
with the gratifying sting
of fingernails dug in
between our shoulder blades.
Funny how the sensations
of pleasure and pain
have more in common
than we realize.

Annie Nov 2017

Red roses
And your broken smile
Don't go
Please stay here for a while

We'll talk
About how the world will end
The dark theories
And the forgotten thread

The broken glass
And the moon lighting our faces
Feel the moment
Feel it before we leave our traces

In a hundred years
And days I can't count
These silk robes will smell like us
But we won't be here -we won't be found

Lorem Ipsum Nov 2017

The truth is this:
every monster
you have met
or will ever meet
was once a human being
with a soul
that was as soft
and light
as silk

Someone stole
that silk from their soul
and turned them
into this

So when you see
a monster next
always remember
do not fear
the thing before you
fear the thing
that created it
instead.

-NIKITA GILL

Nikita Gill is a an amazing, empowering feminist writer with a whole lot of talent. Seriously.

a
chap
at
a
poetry
site
asked
a
poetess
to
send
him
her
silk
panties
well
his
request
didn't
go
down
too
well
she
was
shocked
by
the
audaciousness
of
him
wanting
her
tail
coverings
the
thought
did
cross
her
mind
that
he
was
of
the
cross-dressing
kind

David M Harry Oct 2017

Our hands paint intimate conversations
on the canvas of our flesh.
We speak without word or voice,  
guided by the whims of our breath.
In the ebony of this night, I am not afraid
Because my heart is bound to yours
with a ribbon of November silk.  
I consider for a moment, the way
your flesh responds to my touch.
The moonlit ebb and flow
of shadows upon your skin,
glittered with sparks of ecstasy.
Lying beside you, I close my eyes
And you turn towards the cave of my neck,
taking your rightful place in my arms.
My heart quickens in anticipation
of the intimate moment when
Our breathing becomes one and
I am unsure of where I begin
and end in this embrace and
I do not care because I am certain
at this moment I do not need to exist
Apart from you.  
The chemistry of our breath swells
with the nectar of dreaming  
and I catch a waning glimpse
of a glowing butterfly fluttering
in the aether above us.
I will never untie this November silk
to loosen the tether between us.
I do not want to be alone
in the ebony of this  night
without a word to say,
Without someone whose heart
is bound to mine.

Kaija Derycke Oct 2017

Spin silk threads trough the labyrint that binds me,
Over, under,
around and beside me...
and in the end
Always,

Come find me

Art Sep 2017

Black glass
Hugged by plastic.
A rigid, shiny stone,
Holy and smooth as silk.

It calls upon you.
Its dark face glowing with glee,
its still form
trembling in tantrum.

Eyes gawk eagerly while
dexterously trained fingers
Slide their grease-stained trail
across its blossoming surface,
trapped in vanity.
A technological marvel,
one might say,
it’s glistening roads worshipped and
Truly wondrous.

All the images: moving, smiling, addicting.
The knowledge of the universe, packed into
a tiny, plastic cocoon,
festering, growing, evolving,
eager to be eaten.

Endorsing gluttonous laze, and
Unmasking humanity’s
unseemly colors;
it lulls you in with its
digital spindle embrace, the
sharp strings of data
reaching in through the eyes and
touching the optic nerve.
Neurons swell in ecstasy, pupils dilate, the heart screams;
matter of the brain catches fire in
its electrical storm, and
cascades into chemical climax.

Satiating a toxic lust.
Brilliant glass
turns to black,
stuck to your hand like glue.

The things we worship
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