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sordid scripture,
warring woman,
both menace and coquettish innocence
—barricaded.

statues,
fountains,
and restraining orders,
filling the garden:
decorations of
sunlight on a clock,
and a view into tomorrow,

revealing the "texture" of her skin
within the realm of her navel,
as soft as lace,
as smooth as
the surface of a pond.

before diving in
gives an otherworldly radiance,
her shape and smile
compared to everyday realities
are solemn in the extreme,  
the dawn threatens
to break in the east.

her voice,
(a lungfully deep, sensuous purr),
is so distinctive,
come what may,
this could be happiness:

sullen, waylaid and capricious,
her urban sexuality hidden
in the attic of revolution,
suffused with the dreamlike, hazy glow
of colored lights and tinsel.

desire is like Christmas
—it always promises
more than it delivers.
Mrs Timetable Apr 22
I'm drawn
To you
But I would still
Rather  
Be
Pulled
Towards you
Funny how that is
Eslam Dabank Apr 19
Two planets with their two darker moons, resurrect us - 
     Each day, with the white moonrays we daren't discuss, 
Two slivers from the divine universe, a universe blue, 
     Little slivers from the forbidden universe we pursue. 

Planets beloved to the thirsty, lustful, and followers -  
    Upon glimpsing, they are not human, but wallowers!
There, they are the purest, truest, and free of lies, 
    Where embraces, forced or not, reveal the disguise. 

Life in the core, beige seas, and a moon blessing, 
     Are what is unveiled with a universe *******, 
It weeps, it bleeds stars, and breached by invaders, 
     But they care not, those ****** greedy crusaders! 

If close enough, ghostly sanity lost is what remains, 
     But blame yourself not! Blame a universe in chains!
"The dreaded desires to occupy are the poor victims",
     Said some of the species, the law and judges' dictums.

Their planets' soil is honey, we are bears longing, 
     Moons are grapes rare, and beauty we are wronging.
Withered, breathless and embroidered in oldness, 
     Are those planets, caressing fabric killing coldness. 

Non-Indigenous habitants wish to knit filth to them, 
    Impermeable the unknown are, with their ***** stem. 
They cut air, with their unclean air, as if it is theirs! 
    They are afraid of the charm, yet they want shares!

They seek them undercover, the religious, and all.
    Yet play pretend they prefer, from the US to Nepal.
Dazzling is humanity's cheerful reign on morality, 
     It is filled with nonsense, yet they shape our reality. 

Sheet yourself with an atmosphere black as smoke, 
    From the animalistic createurs close whose fire stroke. 
Knives shall be your trees that bloom, to protect, 
    And save you, from the ****** beasts you reject.

In the words above, and what is not their delusion, 
    Women are universes, divine and soaked with effusion -  
An effusion of fear, power, insecurity and greatness,
    Whose fight is wrinkled with rigidity and lateness. 

Planets two, that if shown to the eyes stop cities,  
     Anger narrowness and to wrap, form committees, 
Planets called *******, giving out milk legendary;
     Reviving of race; a continuum of us, the secondary. 
     
A man's world this is, but God's universe is not, 
    Touch not the grace bringing life to blood, you clot, 
The universe is womanhood, and refuge they seek, 
     From their womanhood defiled by thoughts oblique.
Eyithen Apr 8
Why do we distort beauty?
Beauty can be power, but it can also be a burden
I never understood, but now I do

When we are not bestowed with it,
We cage it by any and all means possible
We mock those who lack it and hate those who have it

Green monsters rise in us
We blur the pure with cold blacks and angry reds
We blame them while we try to be them
I suppose jealousy is a fickle thing

In the stories of old, they say one is blessed with beauty
To gain the admirable attention of others,
How it must feel to be dotted on

But then comes the curse
Of having too much attention
Of getting the wrong attention
Of being objectified and not respected
Of being catcalled in the streets and attempting to ignore crass comments and rude remarks.

Like the attention
Don't like the attention
To be called beautiful is such a nice thing
Until it's not.
Owen Mar 28
She's a ride or die
while her bills are paid by
the man she is with
she wants the grocery list
and the nights out, covered
by his monthly check
or better yet
she doesnt even know
how he manages to get by,
to provide
for her lifestyle.
Its been a while
since he did anything for himself
because
her happiness is the only issue
she'll take off the shelf
and if he isnt happy its his fault
just for trusting
in her presence,
her support,
her unconditional love of him
thats only there
when he can still give her something
and even if he can't
she'll take it
through the system.
When he's kicked out
she wont miss him
but his money,
its her security
and without it
he's worth nothing.
Seek equality
finishing drafts

finishing more drafts
My Dear Poet Mar 27
strict straight
black hair
ocean blue eyes
white fair skin

soft

sunlit red
wavy long hair
forest green eyes
softly freckled skin

considerate

midnight black
tight curled hair
beige brown eyes
dark bronze skin

strong

sandy blonde
wispy hair
soft hazel eyes
light tanned skin

caring

cinnamon
brown hair
deep black eyes
olive gold skin

kind.
You are beautiful
Nida Mahmoed Mar 18
Everything starts from a Mother,
Feminine energy,
Energy; has the power to give
first home to a child,
A sense of security and
a sense of peace,
And a hope to breathe and grow,
And everything ends on a Mother,
A soil,
A mother to open itself to embrace
you' when you say
goodbye to this world,
Embrace your feminine energy,
And lead your life with confidence
and strength,
Because you are a woman,
A woman of Courage,
Strength and Love.
Nida Mahmoed Mar 18
I am a Woman:

My skin melted in moonlight into grim of the darkness of night,
My hair sewed a meadow’s wildflowers,
That's how a woman created in me'
with blood divine,

I am a woman' strong and at the same time soft,
I am more like a pure wine of heaven,

Through dew, the spark of life arrowed in,
Giving birth to the wildwood adored skin,

Delphinium vivid petals of spring late,
With flagrant red roses; coloring my lips,

My eyes carry the dreams of poetry,
hopes of songs,
and music of joy,

An existence where I would live with pure me,
Where I would dance with my **** truths,
Play the drama of mystery,
And audience and stage all are for me,

Gathered to listen to me,
To see me play all drama and dance in between of drama,

I wrought the hair of my drenched in the psalm,
Enchanting with dark godly melodies of mine,
Braiding light with sorrows that, there, were.

The breeze from the voided air,
To embroider something, while reciting a prayer,
And dizzily, I fabricated a soul for the mud,

I inhaled, in awe and feel the life,
I am the words in a poem, ready to rhyme,

Yes, I am a woman,
Enough to feel the entire universe within the word of Woman,

My light reflected on my broken pieces,
The rays shaped a tree of wicked caprices,
Where my fantasies grow,

However, I am my own little beautiful creation,
And this reality is my hunger’s innovation.
The reality we all share,
Yet what deep is, makes my reality whole.
xavier thomas Mar 13
#44
Dear God,

I am the ideal of what a man look like that brings protection, connection, while sometimes respected.
I carry open flaws that are continuously worked on daily.
A good 5-figure man , half way to 6-figures, that has his own everything.
My attitude’s attitude is in check,
the power I hold is self-controlled,
never to go on a rampage.
When one sees my character, it defines what a “man” is or can be.
An example of code ethics which give gifts and sacrifices time as if it’s my duty to live for others rather than myself.

And yet, I am not the man she wants.
Not the 60% rich men who lives in a 6-figure + size house, bank account, traveling anytime as one so do please.  
Not the 60% rich men who she thinks she deserves when she has absolutely nothing to bring to the table but only her temporary looks aging through time because she claims, “she is the table”.
The 60% rich men who is an illusion because in reality, social media & society continues to trick and cloud women minds under a false promise that there’s a huge amount of rich men, when in fact only 1% are. Yet, that 1% could care less.

March 13, 2013
I am the “ideal” man; just not the man she wants.
We are no damsels in distress,
Don’t you try to turn us into your mistress.
Here’s a brief outline,
Without your last name we will get by just fine.

The season of chauvinism ends here,
We will no longer live in fear.
So speak as you may, in your bitter twisted  lies.
Just like the phoenix, from our ashes we’ll rise.
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