"accentuates" poems
If there is a God,
my God
is a **** brunette.
Doe eyes,
stunning violet,
dark with eyeliner.
Star tattoos
twinkle on her face,
shooting across the skies
of her cheeks. A lower
lip piercing
accentuates
the **** curve
of her pouty lips.
Her lithe body,
also inked,
golden from the sun.
She smokes Camels,
sunlit smoke glowing
as it pours from her lips.
She’d ask me to join her
every time
she went outside
to have one,
grinning when she exhales.
I believe already.
My God.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
together we are a velvet dress
comfortable, warm, high-quality material
knee-length, not too fancy
rich, earthy-green in colour
one strap, a bit quirky?
accentuates the thin waist
smoothly caresses the full hip
effortlessly **** soft and flirtatious
not a casual piece, although it is adaptable
the dress hangs heavily on your shoulders and is strapped to your soul
never collecting dust
sometimes worn around the house on a free evening, just for you
wear me here, wear me there
wear me everywhere, the velvet dress cries
but of course this cannot be done
opt for the denim today, the workwear tomorrow
life says it must be so
let's save ourselves for the serendipitous occasion
knowing that this is the greatest part of our beauty and charm
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
For J.M.
If there is an Angel,
my Angel
is a **** brunette.
Doe eyes,
stunning brown,
dark with eyeliner.
Soft pieces of the sky
wet her skin
It is far too tight and thin.
Rose tattoo
twinkle on her face,
shooting across the skies
of her cheeks.
A lower
Lip bruise
Accentuates
The **** curve
Of her pouty lips.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
SHE alone....
accentuates beauty,
her existence alone amplifies
why true perfection lies... in natural imperfection,
... and that....
...is the epitome of gorgeous,
wondrous...
A mysterious entity that makes me quiver at the nurturing womanhood...
.simplistic..
. True divinity, divinity that speaks to my soul in a language with roots far deeper than Latin...
A supernatural being that cannot be restricted by definition,
for it would only be an affliction
of her capacity,
so im left with nothing in which her beauty can be compared to,
for it's strength is far greater than any other force
....the beauty of a woman...
The embrace of her warmth and grace...
The softness...the independence...
The "love me for who I am"
...and i will..because....
it will always be more than enough...
and anyone who perceives it as less
...has never known true beauty
in the essence of a real woman ...
Thank you,
Thank you for teaching me compassion...
And passion...
sacrifice....
The bitter in bitter sweet, that is
arguably sweeter than the sweet...
A woman is much more than who she is,
but what she is...
and what she stands for...
It makes me strive to better myself as a man, so I do not let her down
...like I have....before
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Toughness is my warm gooey love
Isolation is the only defense I've developed
I keep reminding myself this is it
My passion never existed
An urge deep frying my mind
My fingers tingling
My heart throbs
My throat suffocating
The words telling me to discontinue have melted into sweet nothings
I'm a *** drive with no destination
A complicated disastrous women
My feet turned to charcoal long ago
I haven't blink in a lifetime
My burnt sunglasses situated against my broken nose
My high waisted skirt accentuates my fate
Perfect, is a pretty ******* explicit world to create
Please no holding the insane
Back away slowly
She's always hoping to bite
Taking chunks of your pride
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
Acceptance
Accentuates
And
Accelerates
Alacrity,
Ambition,
Acumen;
Allowing
Astounding
Achievements
And
Accomplishments
All
Alive!
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Allure
Beauty from the sultriest with even steady glow exquisite soft lines is perfected in the creature
Dreams are resonant the eyes smolder all tender entry viewed from lips of lushness
Crowned with hair beyond mortal texture it perfectly accentuates loving doll quality’s full mixture
The promise held forth borders crossed unable to envision your dumb all filled with doubt as she pouts
The soul engages as the eyes flame and burn with passion the heart beats with hard thumps
Heavenly body formed from flesh in its force you reel emotional exhilaration extends to enthrallment
Hands touch the visible world seems altered the blood seems to halt its flowing the mind *******
Reconsider the alignment of the stars surly you have passed them in the silver moons glowing stream
The exotic has burst forth on a common stage all has juxtaposed the delirium takes free course
The dance now begun the coupled whirl started here ends among the marveling distant clouds
Enchantment has found its boundless geography it not on any maps it’s truly the heart at it’s source
Governed never the reins to this wild and free spirit has never been made that would be injustice
Has loveliness limits are the galaxies measurable how can they when their ever growing and bestowing
Featureless flawless curvy arts greatest inspiration told through a form that’s made to love and hold
If genius is ever is to be expounded bring the beloved of all men set her in the midst her essence flowing
The world speaks of desirability its fount its ever coursing real ideal is found in timeless womanhood
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
I see cottage cheese.
Too bad your Granny *******
Accentuates it.
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
Your slim figure & stylish cloths,
complement your feminine & **** figure.
The white of your big brown eyes,
complement your pretty white smile.
The fullness of your shiny red lips,
complement your long black & silky hair.
Your long eye lashes & darkened thinned brows,
complement your beautiful skin.
Your soft & ***** voice,
complements your hypnotic .
My heart yearns to save you.
I worry for your very life.
Your perfectly manicured fingernails,
disfigured by the burning, smokey cigarette.
The order of on your cloths & breath
distracts from your flowery perfume.
Your shortness of breath,
accentuates your asthmatic conditions.
Your strong & intermittent coughing.
worsens by your addictive habit.
Your persistent & consistent.
Slowly deteriorating your body from within.
Why can't you stop?
After many visits to the emergency room,
Why can't you stop?
It doesn't make sense!
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
Deathless laying - strewn -
your hand gripping the bone
in my shoulder.
Mixed are the decaying
shards of skin from
bodies
Everything almost touching
again reduced and
mixed in formation
and your hand
calcifies
to me
What in blank skin covering
the eyes - which twitter
and in their chaos -
accentuates our inhibition?
Ripe tears fall
never
into
the face catching
follicles
instead
I swam across to the
heartinents in your chest
and my
mother would say not to
fall into grips that
free emotions like
port, port that enters into
worldsea and drifts across
faded hurricane winds to encapsulate
icewinds in
jars like
coffins closing off to
blind light and opening
peoples airways to scream
of fear in love
Free of sight
in wine-flooded dreams
you lay
and I rest as hands
knot over the
abyss that opens for
brooding thoughts
that drip
out of my mind
as I lay my insatiable
eyes to rest.
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 4:17 PM UTC
Velocity of the heart,
cannot be constant,
when you are near by.
Acceleration accentuates
every second spent staring
into the bright, glittering
galaxies called your eyes.
Your radiation excites
and magnetizes while
painting rainbows onto eyes.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
artists of flesh
wielding shades of exertion
splashing on canvas sheets
bright through closed eyes
I'm your thumbprint expressionist
mattress impressionist
bristles for taste buds make
broad strokes the emphasis
aptly utensil
fills focal to edges
though tipping the easel
conception seems effortless
brilliantly tincture
accentuates fervor
while crescent depressions
raise apogee further
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
The way a woman sings can make my heart melt.
How she accentuates the consonants in **** can turn me on.
What level of dressing she will let me see her in consoles me.
Her willingness to hold my arm when we walk together,
How easily she shakes my hand when I first meet her,
Can change everything.
Really though, just kiss me.
I'm easy.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
for some
their sexuality
is intimately tied
to curves and licks of pain
and their own
abject destruction
trussed, ornate
for a brutality
that accentuates
****** lucidity
in the dark caverns
of a perforceive mind
and o so willing body
which
like bruised piano keys
in a triumphant concerto
of ecstasy
aspires
to be played hard
like Rachmaninoff's
beaten ivories
finding immense pleasure
in constant crises
stretched
between the entwined
demand of desire
and the need
for a
a depraved ritual
of exquisite subservience
imposed
by an idyllic master
sweeten the world
my darling
honey machine
industrious slave
bend my beloved
like the weighted ridge pole
are you ready to break
oh princess
of cruel inflictions
that intoxicate
with onerous dark thrills
the sway of your writhe
where pleasure is piqued
by perfect suffering
blood glitter paradise
she beckons
from hells shadowed doorway
enter my love
enter
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
"..I will stand my ground, for I am no craven. Call out to me with your soft voice and breathe into me. I am overcome endorphins and am left no choice because in this moment I can say to you that I will rejoice.. Now back to a fluid. GLANCING OVER your hand gliding with concentration, determination sliding from your eyes through your fingertips and the glow of moonlight on your skin only accentuates your hips and where am I going thinking about your lips? We're so innocent. Bask with me in our tumultuous calm, we are a paradox that cannot be wrong because my eyes are wide open and you are the one inspiring me to be strong."
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
The handshake comes much quicker
Than it used to in the days
When he held his liquor better
Those times are far away
"Let me shake you by the hand"
he'd bellow in the bar
But, now his grip is weaker
Than it once had been, by far
He used to drink 'till closing
Now, two beers and he is done
He no longer knows his limit
He no longer drinks for fun
The drinks control his shaking
Keep him centered, full of hate
Once he shakes you by the hand
It means things aren't so great
He squeezes hard to make you hurt
Trying to show what he once was
But it only shows his smallness
It accentuates his flaws
Mr "Let me shake you by the hand"
Is in every bar we know
He's quiet when he gets there
But he's loud when time to go
He no longer rules the table
He's just an old drunk in the back
He used to be the favorite
He no longer has that knack
He'll always be a little man
He'll never look you in the eye
Mr. "Let me shake you by the hand"
Will be the same until he dies
In his mind he's full of power
But his body shows what's real
A strong wind would break this man in half
I can't guess how his wife feels
Two beers can change his being
From someone pleasant to an ***
"Mr. Let me shake you by the hand"
gets drunk and turns quite crass
If you ever go out drinking
And your evening is planned
Leave...and in a hurry
If you hear ...."shake your hand."
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
Come in fresh with the smell of new rain
That brightens your shine and your immaculate design
man made
The perfect woman without mistakes
You don't hide your artificial parts
No shame
Or anything to be ashamed of
Pristine
Soft white
That blends with the ambient light of my room
It compliments the straight lines of your firm jaw and Model-esque shoulders
And accentuates the curves of your customized parts
A neck that melts flawlessly into a collar bone
******* that swell and dip into a porcelain belly
Calves that slope gracefully into delicate ankles
Round heels that walk into playful arches that dance away
From the ground
Lines and curves
Mixed perfectly
Coalesced effortlessly
Into the perfect union
Of man and machine
The result of nature and mechanics
Equally lovely
Nervous
Large, innocent green eyes
Scan my wooden floors
My exotic art
My photographs
And all my accolades
Posted on the wall
But you won't look at me at all
"Look at me."
A long blink
As if you think the extra seconds will help prepare you
But once I have your eyes
I don't let go
Locked
Looking deep into your soul
Or whatever you have that's so **** similar
And you know I understand
And you know I understand
And everything else
Goes exactly to plan
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
Her frame accentuates a state of grace without the idiosyncrasy of a modern day woman.
The curve of her hips reminds me of lazy summer days
spent watching the tides rolling in off Narragansett Bay.
She's beautiful in every essence of the word.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
(a quid pro quo plug for zaftig women)
women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle
akin to puppy chasing her/his tail
or require digital scale,
at the extreme alt right registering heavy
ba Jill 'en Jack knifed pail loads
whether young or old ought to be appreciated
not waifer thin self starved as a rail,
instead they suffer unfair injustice
like a trapped quivering quail
thus this fatalistic, generic,
and holistic landlubber
wanted to point head lee
hammer home one secure
heterosexual ******* stronger than
omnipotent Marcy's Playground
weather beaten pail
Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail
into the coffin of bias
against bevy of beautiful babes
within the mind of this male,
who inherited genetic predisposition
for being average, hearty and hale
yet feel compassion for those engaged
in an ongoing with battle of the bulge,
hmm... perhaps hiding ample *****
akin to milky sopping wet grail
or accepted unequivocally themselves
without envy of lithesome women,
who seem to possess flair with nary a flail
yet possess much love to avail,
and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally
despite premium aesthetics considered svelte
which mass media accentuates de facto spelt
definition of femininity aka runway models
donned in faux animal pelt
whose deliberate self exhibition
prompts madding crowd of man
to waggle tongue with slack jaws
as if ready to melt
or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt
drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
by his betrayal to the dormant blood flow of life
in moonlight who preaches insanity, anarchy,
who taunts the wicked mind in its present neutrality
where the provocation is of being blank and yet overbearing,
such accentuates the interim shadows etched into a dirtied slate,
thus that light that kills makes his mind primitive, soul, sedate,
and apart from all, his body who became its own ruler
spectral projections in his image surfaced
as the fingertips ripped through its own ribcage
and dethroned His Hapless Majesty in repressed rage
and an animated husk continued forth
even though the hostless spirit was delicate in its wake,
so free from each others' demands, the two had liberties to take.
and so thus they spent decades in total alienation
but in time, like a king with no subjects, the Mind wavered so,
and the Frame, like a guardian with no duty, faltered the same,
and like clockwork, fate had cursed the two that one became,
and by the moon's blinding and blank light a revelation held
that craving ensued for the beings to become whole again,
as the Mind haunted folklore, the Frame men,
as a means of searching, to reunite and rest as an ultimatum.
and they keep searching
a mindless body, and a bodiless mind
perhaps never to reunite
in punishment of denouncing their being
it was a truth he sought,
though never foreseeing the truth he forgot.
it was a race to command insanity and misery.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 5:01 AM UTC
I hide so well behind this face full of cake
they don't even realize this smile is painted on, being held in place by my blood red lipstick
the blush on my skin is perfectly placed, it is as fake as my laughter
something dead cannot react
this precisely drawn liner that accentuates my wide-eyed innocence is similar to the fresh scars that line my wrist and thighs
the foundation i use every day is starting to crack
and girls,
we all know how much
we hate cheap
concealer
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
He,
he is...
he is as close
to me as my skin
through
my pores he
invades
me
awakening
untouched places
marking me thoroughly with his distinctive scent
so I'd
breathe only him
endlessly
his
smile my
silver lining for
grey skies bursting clouds
into golden sunshine
he
glows on me
like the moon and stars
does midnight
sweetfully
he accentuates
my life
spiritually moving me
souldeep into him
I
began
and end
with his existence
to
him
I endlessly
belong
©cj
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
I would sell myself a bill of goods
Before I would ever inveigh
The babble
That some-have the chutz-puh
To accept as some obscure
Personal quest
That they must compel
Themselves to fulfill
As the Tower Of Babel was
To the intrangient zealots
As they go about
Invoking invidiousness
Binging on the intoxicating inversion
Of partisan opinionativeness
Quoting as they go
"Do unto me not as I do unto you"
When... In a chronometric second
Any possible bipartisan thoughts
That they may truly possess
Has passed through their cinderblock brain
Like the ray of light
On a birefringent trajectory
Unable to acknowledge or accept either one
As the refracting action
Accentuates the intolerance
Invalidating them for
The total lack
Of introspection
Resulting from the
Total absence
Of any biological binder
That on any level would ever
Allow even the slightest sprig
Of libertarian thought
To escape deracination
Slamming the lid tightly
In hopes that noone would see
The dividends that grow from
The derivation as a desideratum
People who can't see it
Personally.... I don't need em.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
when every morning
the things that used to sooth
exhausted heart
and hands become unwelcome
stalkers that assault
the mind like smog
and fumes bathing Manila;
when the obnoxious cycle
of age-old lies and greed
grows stronger every minute,
where can one find deliverance?
or is there such thing as deliverance
anymore? refuge of pen from pain?
but it only accentuates the misery;
the faster the words
populate the page, the deeper
the memory stabs the heart;
yet, is there any other way
than this catharsis?
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
I am an instrument with proud, inexcusable curves,
finished in a deep stain that shows my wear,
how I was loved—
the hands that have touched me.
It accentuates my grooves, my nicks.
It implies the things I've seen
and the music I've created.
I hang on the wall in the far left corner.
One of many walls in this room of a thousand others like me,
made to perform the very same tasks.
It's quiet here.
Echoes in our hollowed bodies,
amplified from the smallest sounds.
All of us, hiding away until we're found,
recognized—and stroked and strummed.
Poor and pitted, waiting
for the completion of hands, and minds,
and unmatched understanding of how and when.
There is a hope, when the lights come up—
when the footsteps approach my wall.
Although he hasn't yet, the thought alone sustains me.
I can feel him
lift me off of my holds,
run his hands down my pronounced edges,
and tune me with precision
by his classically trained ear.
He twists and plucks,
as I contract and give and give again.
I only play beautifully for him.
I vibrate to hum
making notes that require
no accompaniment.
For a stretch of time, I have purpose.
My hollowness
becomes a haunt for untethered melodies.
He makes me something I cannot otherwise be.
The maestro,
the maestro and me.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC