#leg
i’d step on your neck at the best of times but
i wish you the best of luck with the rest of your life
break a leg, hit your head, break every bone in your body
though i hope you make it out alive because i’d hate to feel sorry
i hope roses by your bedside would suffice for a goodbye
i hope we never have to speak for the rest of your long life
break a leg
May 31, 2024
May 31, 2024 at 6:39 AM UTC
My black body unhinged at the seams
half of me laid out over concrete puddles
My Achilles heel set out on an adventure, which can
lead to my permanent downfall
My shoes are gold mines in retrograde trying to walk to the
rhythm of an out of tune heartbeat
Most black bodies are new born poems, they need a strong
foundation and constant work so the writer can have a leg to stand on
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 3:49 PM UTC
hitting myself in
the head with a chair leg i
sit on bathroom floor
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 10:19 PM UTC
A faint tiny tear
Can feel like a replacement arm
Leg or eye
Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 5:30 PM UTC
authentic shots from the shooting place in iran.
dozens of people died
however
she is not ashamed of her beauty. the famous model
let her ******* peek out at the ceremonial party –
all good
then
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 7:09 AM UTC
Want to save a leg?
It’s gonna cost you an arm!
Want to save an arm?
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 7:05 PM UTC
A man lost his leg in a dark spell
and a dinner plate sits in a dry spot
30 years of love soaked lung choked,
"I can't live without my eyes" life!
It's a tied or be tied world
a king prays in the morning
and stars connect his wishes
tasseled, sparkle, with
blood of shaking soft hands
A man lost his leg in a dark spell
a caravan station unfolds its carpet
a pegged ***** grinds for metal
and a sandpaper shoe floats in the creek
a bluejay whispers to the soil
and a soul catches an eye
hunger taken and a spirit flies
to morphing masses and flowing skies
flowing skies
A man lost his leg in a dark spell
as a green legged woman fell into the moon
a clasp of a watch was finally won
with fevered letters and hammered guns
filtered suns
filtered suns
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
The good. The bad. The ugly
All happening in the same location
My bed was taken
Preoccupied by sweat
The bed wet
I have a hot box
I'll rock your socks off
But only if I like you
I'll get some head but you gotta be good
Men made me hate ***
Too fast. No pleasure
I don't like to feel rushed
I like it slow, hard, rough
Choke me while you slide it in slow
Do your best to let me know
Own this cat
Not too many can do that
Only 2 have proven that
But I took Miss Kitty back
She straightened up real fast
Now she hasn't had that
Jaw dropping, leggin popping
Ouuu can I have your babies?
Nah, keep that ****** on daddy
I ain't tryna be crazy
Knock out ***
Make sure I walk funky for 2 days
I've had a lot of ***
I've been high from it
Some might call that addiction
But it has to be the right person or its a waste of skill
I want to showcase this pornstar worthy talent
With someone who had magic to share with me
I want to be pretzelized
Push my legs back as far as they will go
Make me feel it in my stomach
Eat my car until tears of pure satisfaction leak from my eyes
***
Sensational ecstasy 10x
It's magical . As it should be.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
no mountain too high they said
i rip the wood from the trees,
to build the road to Juneau
and bathe in the endorphin river
dry my ankles
and let them breathe the cold air
so the people know
im just a nobody
break my hands
to feel my legs again
break me down
so i can love again
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
I put on the leg
sitting on my bed
fitted it
at the top
and stood up on it.
I hated
the **** thing.
I walked
about the room
with the walking stick
helping me balance.
Other girls watched
what's it like?
the girl Susie said.
Like a ******* leg
I said.
You swore
she said
I'm telling Sister Paul.
Go tell her
show her your ****
for all I care
I said.
She stared at me.
Hey Anne
the girl with burns said
makes you look
different.
How different?
I said
it's just a leg
go **** eggs.
I stormed
from the room
and along
the passageway.
I walked past
the young nun
who smiled
and I smiled.
I liked her
despite her
being a nun.
I went out
on the lawn
and walked over
to the table
at the end
and sat in one
of the white
metal chairs.
I threw
my stick aside
and stared
at the leg.
My stump felt sore
I wanted to take
off the leg
and throw it
at the first person
who came by.
The Kid came
and sat bedside me.
I liked him
one of the few
I liked in
the this hell hole.
He talked.
Over behind him
other kids stood
staring at us
sitting there.
**** them
I said to myself
and gave them
a hard stare.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 3:30 AM UTC
Her leg was my favorite tree to lean against.
Most times I'd lean my back there and listen to her for hours.
I'd stare at the pattern of clouds that hovered above my head.
The wind sweeping beneath her dress in perfect amount of shade.
The rustle of fabric against skin.
Here I felt I could be myself.
I found peace in an abundance of silence.
Turned the opposite way, her roots.
I rested my head against redwood skin.
Free to be myself.
She was my sanctuary.
Standing still in her strength. I became a part of her,
Sitting still.
listening to her intently, the debris left behind from most storms.
I'd take my time, to help fix the broken branches.
Keeping weeds as far from her as I could.
Learning to compromise in a moment of trust, leaning my head against her lower leg once more.
The shade she provided in her selflessness.
The rustle of my hand against her leaves.
Letting parts of her former self go to grow anew.
My head nestled soft against skin.
I watered her every chance that I could,
Watching the same water sprinkle down on me like rain.
I rested my head against her lower leg for a moment longer.
Learning to be still in the moments that pass like clouds
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:48 PM UTC
I thought she was a **** chick,
I also thought she was true,
But she was only true to my ****
I remember that chicken breast,
She flaunt her legs in privy,
Now it's someone else's leg piece,
Someone else will devour it over,
I won't ever get that very chick,
Because it was just a quick dream.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
I am lying flat on the bed,
a nurse is rubbing my leg stumps,
her hands are smooth,
fingers skillful.
Another nurse
is beside me;
I can hear
their conversation
between each other.
She died in the night,
the nurse nearby says,
terrible wounds,
didn't think she
would survive.
I think of Jean
and how she had
just gone off after
our row yesterday.
Her children were dead
at the scene;
the house took a direct hit
in last night's blitz,
the nurse nearby says.
It is tragic children
being killed like that,
the nurse rubbing
my leg stumps says.
I stare at the area
of their voices as if
I could see,
but I see nothing,
darkness where voices
come from.
My hands lie dormant
by my sides.
It is oddly sensual
this rubbing,
painful but sensual,
as if the mixture
of pain and rubbing
combined to make it
seem sensual.
I remember Clive
touching me the last time,
his hands moving
between my legs
and kissing my feet
and even now
I sense his kisses.
The last time
we made love.
There between me
he lay.
Then, he was gone
and died at Dunkirk.
The reality shocks me
and I move,
Steady , Grace,
steady, am I hurting you?
the nurse says,
holding my leg stumps.
No,
I say,
no just a memory.
She rubs again,
the sensuality fighting
with the pain.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
Anne rubbed
at her stump
it was sore
and her toes
(which weren't there)
were hurting
Benedict
gazed at her
and her leg
where her skirt
had risen
it looks red
the boy said
shall I tell
Sister Paul?
**** her Kid
she's no good
she couldn't
find her ****
with both hands
Anne said
well who then?
the Kid said
staring hard
at the stump
glimpse of white
knickers edge
the thin nun
with a face
like ghost
Anne said
so the Kid
left Anne
and her stump
and raced back
to the white
and black brick
nursing home
racing past
other kids
on his way
Sister Luke
was standing
in the hall
come quickly
the Kid said
Anne's stump
is all red
and hurting
Sister Luke
gazed at him
her dark eyes
searching him
is this true?
it's not one
of her games
she's playing?
the nun said
Benedict frowned
no it's real
I've seen it
the Kid said
going red
it's all sore
you've seen it?
seen her stump?
the nun said
she showed you?
yes she did
the Kid said
(but didn't
say about
the knickers
that he'd seen)
Sister Luke
stared at him
she shouldn't
show you that
the nun said
that's private
not for boys
maybe not
but please come
the Kid said
going red
it's painful
so the nun
followed him
on the lawn
where Anne
was sitting
in her chair
stump showing
red and sore
and knickers
that the Kid
never said
that he saw.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 2:23 AM UTC
pierced by my own punctum
I'm the Tacitus of my times
scrawl from pen to page
scrawl from pen to page
. . .
seas of needles and crestin waves
the climate's been bound to change
climates been bound to change
I aint reachin for the needle no more
but needle still reachin for me
. . .
scrawl from pen to page
scrawl from pen to page
and I need water
ink been bound to dry
throat been bound to close
jaw been bound to lock
she's a cuckoo, but whose the clock?
she's a cuckoo, but whose the clock?
. . .
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
Between the hem of my skirt
and the top of my socks
is the coldest part of me
but I must expose my knees
for some reason?
They warm up quickly
when he sits next to me
he probably thinks
I wear the trousers
If only he'd look more
he'd notice
I don't
they're baring all
and they're not like ice
or sore
but crying out
“warm me”
for some reason
He should wear shorts
then we could talk of knees
and needs
like mine for him
to sit next to me
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Writing on my phme
makes me want to shoot myself
in the leg. no joke.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
Anne,
one legged,
crutched herself
through passageway
and hall,
passed kitchen,
leg stump swaying,
green dress flowing,
out through
the French windows,
moving by me
in the doorway,
pushing by
the boss-eyed nun,
out into the garden,
shouting loudly:
WHERE’S
THE ****** SUN!
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Being an actor or actress
Doesn't mean you are on broadway,
Or a star of a hit reality TV show.
Being an actor or actress
Means you step onto the stage
And give it your all.
You accept the spotlight
Not as a blinding piece of equipment,
But as a sun shining on you,
Bringing you to life.
When you hear the term
Break a leg
You form a grin,
Knowing it's not literal.
When the laughter
Of a crowd on opening night
Encourages you and gives you hope.
Being an actor or actress
Isn't about the flowers
Or the repetitive good jobs after a show.
Being an actor or actress
Is about the butterflies you get
Before you go on stage.
It's about the energy you feel
When you and your cast
Do something spectacular
On stage.
Being an actor or actress
Is an outlet from the real world.
It allows you to step onto stage
And forget about the boy
Who broke your heart,
Or the money struggles,
Or the bombs going off
In other countries.
It allows you to step into
A new and exciting universe,
Where nothing else matters except,
Being an actor or actress.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC