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nd Jan 2019
I know that feeling,

When you're angry
    but dont want to hang up.

He makes you mad
    but still, you dont want to hang up.

He says something that annoy you
    yet still, you don't hang it up.

We tease each other
     and still, you dont want to hang up the phone.
B Sonia K Dec 2018
The rays of the sun
Shines through the transparent glass window
Illuminating the room
Sunbeams playing around
With shadows on the ground
My gaze upon a golden figure
Glowing in the standing mirror
Teasing me
Into a world of timelessness
And endless whispers
Roaring within me
With laborious vigor
It’s heat most appealing
In this dry cold.
Shadows appearing on the edges
At the end of the sun’s rays
Dancing on the edges
Taunting me
Yet teasing me
With unspoken words
A glamorous invitation
To a sonorous congregation
In the shadows
Beyond the rays of the sun.
Connor Dec 2018
Slam the door shut
And push me against
The wall.
Bite and suckle my neck
In-between sloppy kisses
While I whimper softly.
Use my body like an
Instrument you've mastered
Playing.
****** me and smirk when
I melt into your touch,
And bite your lip playfully.
Punish me, keep me teetering
On the edge, begging for release;
Whilst curling your skilled fingers.
Refuse my pleas, force me to wait
Until I have satisfied your desire,
And have filled me completely.
Make me yours, and
No one else's. Suffocate me
In your sinful love.
Something I wrote yesterday.
Sharon Talbot Dec 2018
Old Harold lived on the second floor
In a darkened room with an old locked door.
My cousins and I used to tease him there,
And he’d chase us out, give us a scare.
I didn’t know exactly who  he was,
“He’s a mean old man,” said my favorite cos’.
“Grandma let him live here after Grandpa died.
She doesn’t even like him and we don’t know why.”
When he was out we would take a peek.
Around the ocher walls and his bed we’d sneak.
There was nothing but an iron bunk
And a glass-front chest filled with lots of junk.
One day Old Harold must have complained
About our pestering…we really were pains!
But no parent’s lecture could keep us away.
And Grandma’s yelling at him not to stay.

Old Uncle Harold disappeared for years.
We would make up stories for littler ears.
But one day my father had news of him.
He lived with “a harlot” and his checks she’d skim.
I was old enough to know what it meant
And asked Dad why uncle Harold seemed bent.
“He was gassed in the War in a field at Verdun.”
Dad told me in a tone that left me stunned;
“And was then sent around to pick up the dead.
With the gas and the horror, his mind just went.”

Now I recalled all the times we had teased
And agonized him when we should have pleased.
But now it was too late to apologize,
He was so lost, he wouldn’t recognize
His grown tormentors, when he hardly
Knew my father, the kindly mentor,
Who visited him every week,
Who paid for anything to make him last,
And reminded him of better times past;
Telling him of the time he caught a butterfly
And brought it to show the girls and guys.
How he wanted to let it fly away,
But when the boys had killed it anyway.
He cried and was called a coward then,
And as my father spoke and wept again.

Old Uncle Harold died alone
In a sterile, cold-floored nursing home.
None but Dad came to grieve
And I, only an hour away, shunned
the feeling and just felt numb,
Until Dad called and told me the story
Of Harold’s death and only then
Could I say, “I’m sorry!” to his ghost.
I should have said it long ago; the one who
Maddened him least repented the most.
If I could say “Sorry” for the times we made him shout.
I realised he’d just have yelled, “Get the hell out!”
This is about my great uncle, a casualty of WWI, who was the "bogeyman" of my youth and then the sad story of a forgotten veteran.
You show me that little bit of skin,
that gets the blood flowing,
and then you look my way with your little smile and a wink,
and then keep on walking,
with just a hint that there will be more,
but you know you won't be giving it up soon,
so you just look over your shoulder with that typical,
sorry not sorry,
as you always planned too.
The next day you were going out,
and then you decided to flash,
me a little ***,
and then put that away too,
because you knew,
we were already running late,
and it would have to wait,
so you turn to me and say again,
sorry not sorry,
as we go out pushing it back again.
We were playing around,
and as you were going down,
you were feeling frisky,
and a little risky,
as you look up at me,
while on your knees,
and asked, "Which hole would you like?,"
and at that moment I felt the sweet release,
and saw your little grin again,
with that short little phrase,
of sorry not sorry,
again and again.
Jack L Martin Aug 2018
I like to laugh and smile
like any other kid
but you decided that

I was undeserving

of being liked
of being loved
of being myself

I wasn't cool
I wasn't trendy
I wasn't sporty

I was just being myself

I am quirky
I am intellegent
I am creative

You Don't care!

You are relentless
You are misguided
You are ruthless

Who hurt you so bad?

You have friends
You have fashion
You have popularity

Is that not enough?

I am now untrusting
I am now anxious
I am now depressed

It still hurts till this day!

I have grown to resent you!
I have grown to hate you!
Why aren't you dead yet?

I'm sure the feeling is mutual

You hurt me
because
Someone hurt you

When does this vicious cycle end?
I was bullied relentlessly throughout my entire school years.  It was torture!  I deal with it the best I can to this day.  I survived!  Please love your neighbor, but more importantly, love yourself!
Geanna Jun 2018
She's mine, mine to keep
She's in too deep
I promise i'll be a tease
Slice and dice you'll beg me please
~ G.P.O
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
One look, they’re a lover by the shine in their eye,
that glistening light gives me a dopamine high.
It takes a moment, an analytic check,
otherwise leave their heart in a wreck.
You will have to stand still while you hear the cry,
but he’ll forget about it later with his hand on your thigh,
you feel the panic rush over you as you say goodbye.
A stranger beside you gives your lips a peck,
One look, they’re a lover.
As bricks keep coming in, you look like a bad guy,
rinsing your hair darkened by the black dye.
He throws you gifts with his paycheck,
you know deep down - bad check,
One look, they’re a lover.
One thing I won’t deny about my younger years, I was a bit of a player when I finally got the ball rolling. I wasn’t ‘extremely attractive’, but I was charismatic, which lead people into my life quite easier. People loved me, it was weird, but it wasn’t due to fame, it was due to not really knowing how to convey love itself.

Let’s be real, how many of us as kids went: ‘I want a girlfriend who I will love!’? To then realise, wait, no you don’t, you didn’t think of the ‘long-run’ you thought of the ‘now’ and how much fun you could get out of that thrill of being with someone.

Despite the ‘thrill’ a lot of times when people began to get a lot more ‘personal’ I would not pursue, I would often back down or not let it escalate that far. I was terrified of being in that situation and sometimes, still am to this day.

When you can play hearts, people come to think of you as the ‘bad boy’, sort of stereotype; People see you as a heartbreaker and in a way, they wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve definitely broke plenty of hearts in the past, but I think there were times it reversed back on me and backfired badly. A lot of the time being a ‘player’ consists of who can leave who first hanging more than ‘let’s genuinely make this work’.

There are times being a player you would even advance onto Strangers romantically rather easily.

The black hair dye is to reference how entering my earlier teens I was very much into the 2000s ‘emo’ trend of dying your hair black, saying you are ‘edgy’ and all this and that and sometimes it’s just funny to look back on. I definitely was an emotional kid and I just often didn’t know how to express it and I think I saw the emo subculture as a way to express my inner feelings.

So many guys bought me gifts, it was actually insane. I mostly would receive games if anything, but you’d be shocked how much someone would do for you if you have them wrapped around your finger. Admittedly, today, I probably wouldn’t do that, I just think it was a bit cruel how I used to almost play these people’s feelings and they would give me everything they had and it just wasn’t ‘enough’ because they never had a chance to begin with. They were definitely deep in the friendzone.

Now I’m more independent when it comes to relationships with people, I try my best to give as much to them as they give me or more, solely because I don’t want someone to feel like I am using them just for money, because in the end money isn’t love, it never is and never was.

The beautiful part about the ending is when you show affection and interest in someone who doesn’t reflect those interests, it captures a player’s attention like ‘I could easily get everyone else, why is this different?’ and it links into Shades of Blue a bit, which will be later on in the book.

This poem’s form follows the structure of a Rondeau which is a rather short poem, but it definitely was fun to write, it was interesting to see what I could do with the limitation of words but I think also including those words into things that reflect on my past was the biggest challenge.
you
n i perceive reality in our own view
too
how the world a skew

and each rue
while mind each "p" n "q"
of societal mores mebbe at a pew
or in a car brand new

that purrs like a "meow"
or even on the loo
'bout a lover ye knew
thinking of gentile or jew

now tis that does hew
a friendship that mite grew
cuz quality gals so far n few
like finding a miniature red
   white striped emu
like eeyore - feel in ivy blue.
---------------------------------------

sorry for all dis bather
   me lass of an heart felt ace
& hope no words o mine base
so lemme cut to the Chevy driven chase

to relish c ying ur face
yi yi yippee - thy grace
****** desires to gather
   at what e'er pace

cuz dis haint no race
for us to trace
an arc &
   compete with lovers
   that for e'er frieze on grecian vase.
---------------------------------------

which day
whether sunny or gray
as high r low clouds lay
like pair a moors

   or nags in may
would be okay
to...play
oye vay
and enjoy
   hot ravenous ja way?
---------------------------------------

this chap aint no a rod
   knee nor danger
concocting a fiction
   be yin born in a manger
neither does he don
   role of ranger
thou veritable stranger

THOUGH A VERITABLE UNKNOWN GAL 2 ME
NONETHELESS, I MUST BE GOING STIR CRAZY FOR YOU! ™

---------------------------------------

hi yam hankering Asian urge gent wuss
celibate lee  married, a zealous adult tour us
desires to tuss
sill with a female,
   no not necessarily
   her coiled n kinked

   hair to muss
nor special outfit to fuss
i try not to ******* cuss
nor cause no trouble
   if aboard the digital bus.
---------------------------------------
PLEASE be patient with him. In due time, his ability to calm down and control the erectile fusillade will chime with YOUR ******.

HE well deserves to end this celibate state and get requisite COMEUPPANCE!
---------------------------------------
Hello Sin Come on In!

I thoroughly enjoy plying (like a baker kneading dough) these slender and smallish fingers at the juncture of neck and shoulders. As many cumulative kinks would be ironed out. Muscles and tendons on either side of the spine (from stem to stern) privy to tender loving care. Special emphasis would be given to any particularly sore area. Perhaps an especially noticeable ache exists along the upper or lower back? Just the appropriate amount of (gentle) pressure - from the heal of one hand or the other - called into action.

Might forearms or biceps be in sore need of massage? Gluteus Maximus saddle sore? How about thighs? Any other parts of your anatomy require skin nourishment? This willingness to manipulate knotty points of tension offered for passionate physical *******. Game? No need to think this hum bull guy wood MONOPOLIZE you NOR doth ye need to feel SORRY if nada one iota of interest exists!
---------------------------------------
unsure...
  
what this free thinker
   who lives ~10 miles north east
   of valley forge, penna ought to write
also not knowing
   if rambling comes a
   cross as trite

maybe filled with angry under
   panting tones awash
   with spittle and spite
veering considerably
   left of political right

which liberal democratic
   leanings correct quite
   an attempt to come across
   as mature and polite

hoping to induce interest
   to get together
   some day or night
discussing topics
   profound or light

or...letting sexually intimate
   fantasies (of mine)
   take supersonic flight
restoring darkened psyche
   with high octane
   self generated energy bright.

only one finger
used to hen peck
and types this
four tee billionth acre

doth, dis dude
real soon will take a break
eat sum petrified cake
like an ancient yodel,
ring ding or drake

interestingly enough
can cure any earache
with nary an edible flake
mebbe jump in a

poker face booked - mud flat lake
steal away imagining to make
out with you,
a moist meaty milky shake.

i yam ma nada trip pin
jist over dose sin
n wanna marry gin.

star-date = 9999 anno domino;
time = 1700: 39:_ pm

u r a be u tee
only in imaginary will i see
u re joy sing -
for me
as glee
from one male sassy thee
sets passions free.

like one pac man on a roll
   bell ringing canon,
   fast moving caboose
or mad as hell
   headless goose

this josh hing drake
   haint butta loose
goose
whereby moose

uh d utter creatures
   tink i lack mental juice
i.e. ja dat - right duh gray matter
   of dis knit wit,

   the "infamous" deduce
cob bulled with
   whirled wide web
   peppered with rotten cous cous
& find my rye ting
   an absolute nuisance
ready to call doktor Zeus.
Jennifer DeLong Feb 2018
What a delicious word
Lust

To want to desire
To need to crave

To find it crawling into
your mind
To feel it tantalizing
your body

Seeing it in his eyes
To feel it from his desire

Thoughts of teasing
Thoughts of pleasing

Daring you to touch
To give in to it's satisfaction

Lust yes Lust
Deliciously dancing
across my tongue

Writing passionate
escapades
reading them in your
eyes

Nothing is hidden
between us

It's pure
powerful and
passionate

Lust what a
delicious word

© Jennifer Delong 2/4/18
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