Lyn-Purcell Jan 23
Tears and water are similar
but have dissimilar
Food for thought...
Moeshfiekah Jan 21
I drank her dry.
But hadn't I'd known that
Would be my last.
I would have savored her
In my mouth.
Alas, I had forgotten how she tastes
And that is my eternal doom
A lost soul looking to be revived again by her lover .
My Father used to say,
"There is no accounting for tastes."
Some people might think
That I've completely lost my tastes?
I'm into all sorts of things
That I didn't have a taste for in the Past.....
Melancholic Sufi Music from Uzbekistan
And Nude Photos of Strong  Black Women.
Spiritual and Erotic Dimensions
That agree with my current state of mind.
Would my tastes today
Conform with the Critics Choice?
Probably not,
Especially when combined!
However, it must  be
What's best for me
To move on to
The next step in life.
Martin Narrod Oct 2017
Swiping itches
Sticky fingers
Yields those smells we love
To touch it, thrills
You mean business
Steady shucking,
Harvests tingles starting from these toes
Sexy junk, to the nostrils
Smells like rock ‘n roll

Fuzzy nothings
Sweeping softness
Inside wet with joy
Excited aces, jack of clovers
Licks the spades in throes
Something wilder
Up above us
Shivers chilled with awe
Insight betwixt our interstices
This mouth cleaving chills below

Always ready
Never settling
Redolent God-like muse
This music is something
To be messed with
Together we watch our show
listening to contemporary soundscapes on the radio
I realize I am the  age of my grandmother
when she was terrified that I was
happily howling the latest Beatles  songs
and trying to play them on the piano which
    for her
was a sanctuary of late 19th century music
she liked to play with virtuosity and passion

much of what my culture radio station
calls contemporary music
or pop music stations praise in their charts
does not really catch my ear either

times keep changing
Jaimi M May 2015
I want
the kind
of love
on your
Curtis Matthews Nov 2014
Acting is carried away and the dazed, wise boy is alone smoking viceroys. Without a word or a day to change the things that should be running down the shower drain. Wipe the sweat off his face and he could shave to the grain to make himself okay. Putting his act in place, but his special place is forevermore changing.

Sweet tastes of likely lead to an addiction for a boy who always runs blindly, but when the ground gets icy, the boy will break through ever so lightly and even after hopping the fence, love and lovely still has a big difference. So, the boy will keep on filling his bed, forgetting the age of his existence.

Maybe he is just homeless, scouting out a place to live. Jumping couches with people he loves and people he knows love him. Hardwood floors and springy couches aren't enough to break his back, but when the time comes he'll have to choose and face the facts. Business and opportunities can still make you homeless and the fact there's no love makes you almost boneless. This boy is bright and clever and will be able to rise up whenever, but without cutting off the extra cartilage, he may never find a home because home is where the heart is.
Ann M Johnson Aug 2014
Their are times when I wish I could recapture some of the past
and have good memories that would always last and not fade over time
There are times when I can recapture something if only for a moment
A taste a smell, reminding me of a loved one lost, but for a little while at least I feel happy and content and in a way feel somehow transported back in time.
I call it the tastes of childhood, like when I was in Grandma's kitchen I remember the smell of her M&M; cookies, I have never since tasted cookies so fine
I remember my Dad making polish sausages bought fresh from the local sausage house, my mouth just waters just thinking about it even though I just ate.
Then on Sundays we would all gather around the table together as a family and eat together which was quite a feat, considering a family  of nine children, and everyone seemed to scream out I want a leg all at once, which was a problem being chicken fryers back them did not consist of all legs; I still don't know how my parents managed the chaos of all us  children

I also remember my dad smelling of Old Spice and I think it was nice
I wonder if you to will be transported down memory lane, if only for a moment
What are your tastes of childhood? feel free to share
Feel free to share or write something on your own with a similar theme and if you do please share it with me, I would Love to read it,
I thought of this after eating some local meat market Polish Sausage this morning.

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