Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
Luna Lynn
Laying beneath you
as I become devoured
into the night
(C) Maxwell 2014
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
Sjr1000
Access to excess
holds you tight
in its vice.

It starts off
it always feels so right
filled with promise and abundance
walking into that casino
loaded with cash
scoring the bag at Christine's
weekly motel
one more dab will do you.
She knocks on your door
and only wants you
the night is filled with promises too.

Is this any different
then gluttonous
billionaires hoarding what they can
it's never enough
while the rest of us drown.

The waiting, waiting, waiting
for it to come through
there's that too.

Access to excess
has this advice:
"I'll deal with it later"
and
"One more time. "

Drip, drip, drip
blood
triggered rush
images and cravings
euphoric memories
kaleidoscope
in
one body rush
after another
until there is no more living
in
your own skin.

Rubbing your self raw
to get back to that moment
when you first walked in
when abundance
was real
and
access to excess
was all you could feel.
What a moment of exhilaration.

Of course there are these bonuses too
ending up
with total deprivation
"incomprehensible
demoralization"

Locked in a porta-*****
with a guy and a pipe
out of money
out of time
out of consciousness

Access to excess
what are we gonna do
now.
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
Francie Lynch
Late last night,
A spectral fog
Billowed off the lake,
Clouded down my street.
I thought to grab
My feathered fedora,
Stand, leaning
Under the yellow street light,
Hat pulled down to my brows.
I'd light a plain Phillip Morris,
And with the first pull,
Blow smoke through my nose,
Punctuating each syllable
With blue:
"A cliche is worth a thousand words."
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
b for short
I sat down today and thought of a face—
with kind curves and welcoming eyes,
with a smile that could illuminate a space,
and warm the chilled voids betwixt thighs.

So I snatched up a pen and scribbled like mad,
an articulate letter on said visage so divine—
pages upon pages of marvelous musings—
hunger dripping off of each line.

Then my hands finished working, my fingers at rest,
observing my mess of inked letters and blots.
One simple message derived from it all:

**“You’re in my inappropriate thoughts.”
© Bitsy Sanders, July 2014
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
betterdays
she stands out,
in the crowd.
it is not.
that she is,
taller or shorter,
or indeed,
particularly beautiful.

it is her,  "joy de vivre"
that, carefree love,
of life,
that draws your..
eye and heart.

she is,
youth and laughter,
a memory,
of kinder days
those that wear,
a sparkle and  smile ensemble.

she is,
the girl
everyone befriends.
she is,
the girl that is
dilligent
and always ends,
each day with
a thankful sigh.

she is,
grace, and  life's
dance personified.

she is,
one of many students,
but by god,
she is sublime,
as an actress.
as a student,
a bit flighty.
her grades,
a bit hazy.
but, she smiles
and the boys,
just swoon
and the girls,
well some
of them, swoon too,
the others, just follow
in her wake.

she is,
seemingly oblivious,
to this power,
and thus it grows,
mysteriously.
but her joy,
is pure
and unbroken.
so, like moths,
to the flame,
they gather about her.
there is one every year
or so... these mysterious girls
or guys that seem to have it all... an almost undefinable aura that attracts people to
them.... it is fascinating to
see...
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
PrttyBrd
Gifted
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
PrttyBrd
You have had me in every way
Rising mountains and flooded hollers
Gifted with everything, and I have nothing left to offer but this
This treasure of depravity
As you clean the crevices and ***** my mind
Worship, slather,  repeat
You delve in fiending for the taste
and with each pass of that silver tongue my thoughts get more tarnished
And you get...all of me
Taken in heat engulfed in passion
Drilled to the core
Filled with rapasciousness
I offered a gift and I was chewed up and swallowed
Consumed fully
Wanton abandon in caveman style of take what is yours
And that...I am
6/29/14
 Jul 2014 TinaMarie
LJ Chaplin
Pulling at heartstrings
Like a harp,
The delicate tremors of angels' voices
That cascade between metal and emotion,
Raw, vibrant crescendos of tears
In the back alley,
Mascara hitting the concrete
Like the raindrops,
Stale and scattered
By the storm that was stirred
In the bedroom the night before,
Passion flashing like lightning
Between the rolling clouds of
Bedsheets and bare skin,
All to wither like the retreating tide,
The rising of trouser legs
Like the Sun,
A walk of shame down a lonely road,
A seagull flying out to sea,
Wings spread beyond vast waves
Of boring bricks and patchwork ***-holes,

*Only to flee from the filthy hot mess of another conquest
Asymmetrically
                we
connect;
                                        yet
           ­                              **perfectly fit!
Under the banner heading,
a sudden rainbow spreads,
a poetic rain,
in small print,
fills the white sky page;

a naked woman,
reads it word by word,
ecstatic,
dancing like a peacock.
Almost there, she went wild,
bit me  ******* my shoulder,
floodgates opened,
*we didn't anymore care,what we did!
Next page