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"adrenalin" poems
Lost in your arms, for years at a time your touch was my grace, our grind was my pace, way made love, like tongues make taste I feel in love with your paste it likes your body was laced. between your legs, inside your body, became my favorite place. Hand at my sides, my gripping your waist. One look in your eyes, giving passion a new face. Touching your body, emotions erupting, Adrenalin gives race. I can hear your heart beating, as your blood starts to race. our bodies interlaced from the inside, You can feel me inside I'm so deep, your fingers dig in as your brace. Pleasure is pain, and its writing across your face, the slower we grind, the further your mind goes, to that distant place. As your hips whine, my waist line sets the pace, as my mind plays rewind I press forward, like the present is time and I'm living it in real-time still amazed by your grace.
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Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
rReminisce
I see Beauty in a ********** Whose feelings you cannot convolute. I see a Businesswoman in a ********** A **** with brains, destitute she made a business plan. At least she did business studies and accounting at school, sells her body to earn, A living. I see a princess in a ********** because no man can resist her. You know when she starts curling her hair Even Pastors ********** then we bring the Saints Holiness into debate. Have you ever seen a ********** aspirate "I want you" ? **** Her voice alone gives ****** healing, Arouses ****** feelings, Pumps vessels, frightened by the spark in her eyes, hormone adrenalin give your heart rate a fast accelerating beatings. I see charisma in a ********** Married men,leave their wives in bed and creep to the streets corner just to cuddle with prostitutes, it was I who said, there's beauty in a ********** I see Beauty in a ********** I've seen Loyalty in a ********** Yes I did. How? What do I mean? Because she ***** all men in the same manner and charge them all the identical amount. That is Loyalty man. I said, I see Beauty in a ********** and I wasn't lying. There is Beauty in a ********** The Beauty that makes Preachers at church retire, The Beauty that make married men divorce, The Beauty that makes Jay Z forget Beyonce, The Beauty that makes Julius Malema forgets his political position The Beauty that makes Jesus Christ want to come back, to save his descendants from sin. The Beauty of a ********** Men have seen it.
0
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
I See Beauty In A **********
I see Beauty in a ********** Whose feelings you cannot convolute. I see a Businesswoman in a ********** A **** with brains, destitute she made a business plan. At least she did business studies and accounting at school, sells her body to earn, A living. I see a princess in a ********** because no man can resist her. You know when she starts curling her hair Even Pastors ********** then we bring the Saints Holiness into debate. Have you ever seen a ********** aspirate "I want you" ? **** Her voice alone gives ****** healing, Arouses ****** feelings, Pumps vessels, frightened by the spark in her eyes, hormone adrenalin give your heart rate a fast accelerating beatings. I see charisma in a ********** Married men,leave their wives in bed and creep to the streets corner just to cuddle with prostitutes, it was I who said, there's beauty in a ********** I see Beauty in a ********** I've seen Loyalty in a ********** Yes I did. How? What do I mean? Because she ***** all men in the same manner and charge them all the identical amount. That is Loyalty man. I said, I see Beauty in a ********** and I wasn't lying. There is Beauty in a ********** The Beauty that makes Preachers at church retire, The Beauty that make married men divorce, The Beauty that makes Jay Z forget Beyonce, The Beauty that makes Julius Malema forgets his political position The Beauty that makes Jesus Christ want to come back, to save his descendants from sin. The Beauty of a ********** Men have seen it.
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44
Let's go after our dreams which we lost one day we need them back it seems go and gather all the stars that will open upon a gate up in the sky Which will lead us a brand new stage Where we'll go and challenge our Past Fight intense, be dynamic Let's ** ** . don't panic Losing makes us stronger than before There will be no limits, no regrets We'll keep fighting, we'll keep pushing onward fly up high, be dynamic Let's go! Yeah! punch and kick oh, we're trembling with Adrenalin brand new stories are about to begin
0
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
Let's Go After Our Dreams
I think perhaps as a writer, we seek the adventure, the unknown, the destructive, not only to know we are alive but to know what it is to live. We live fast, we love without restraint, with impulsive desire. Are we the tortured, the wounded, the broken, abused. We have lived a thousand lives, loved a million times. We dream, we idealise, we fall in love unintentionally, we make mistakes, we endure deep suffering and we fall to the hands of lust within a heartbeat. We choose to show our ******* our ***** our hearts or our souls. We refuse to sell our mind, to which we must always remain held to. Our body is a vessel, one of productivity made victim to abuse. It's such neglect, despair, that leaves us enveloped in patterns of trauma and deeply embedded psyache. Once touched, our bodies remember as an elephants mind always will. We are tainted, scarred, stained by another's love, lust, cheating, lying, crying, kissing, losing, dreaming. We are the risk takers, the ones who dare step into the unknown and often don't adhere to rules and regulations of societal ideals. We crave love. We crave endless excitement. We crave the adrenalin rush of a new lover. We don't settle. Wanderlust writes us. Each journey shapes us, choosing a new direction, experimenting with style, fiction, autobiographical tones. Landscapes colour our pages, pollute the rooms with a myriad of paints, smoking out those who don't endure, slaves to the written word, a pledge to keep reading pages of paper, dusty from step ladder high book shelves. Finding joy in limited first editions, autographed and locked behind glass doors.  Fairy tales whispered by Hans Christian Andersen - The Snow Queen in a pop up book laced with glitter and scintillation. Falling into stories, Alice's rabbit hole, lost to liquor saying drink me. The young ingénue, naïve and shy, her first role acting, embodying the spoken word through the masters written script. © Sia Jane
0
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Writers Oath
I think perhaps as a writer, we seek the adventure, the unknown, the destructive, not only to know we are alive but to know what it is to live. We live fast, we love without restraint, with impulsive desire. Are we the tortured, the wounded, the broken, abused. We have lived a thousand lives, loved a million times. We dream, we idealise, we fall in love unintentionally, we make mistakes, we endure deep suffering and we fall to the hands of lust within a heartbeat. We choose to show our ******* our ***** our hearts or our souls. We refuse to sell our mind, to which we must always remain held to. Our body is a vessel, one of productivity made victim to abuse. It's such neglect, despair, that leaves us enveloped in patterns of trauma and deeply embedded psyache. Once touched, our bodies remember as an elephants mind always will. We are tainted, scarred, stained by another's love, lust, cheating, lying, crying, kissing, losing, dreaming. We are the risk takers, the ones who dare step into the unknown and often don't adhere to rules and regulations of societal ideals. We crave love. We crave endless excitement. We crave the adrenalin rush of a new lover. We don't settle. Wanderlust writes us. Each journey shapes us, choosing a new direction, experimenting with style, fiction, autobiographical tones. Landscapes colour our pages, pollute the rooms with a myriad of paints, smoking out those who don't endure, slaves to the written word, a pledge to keep reading pages of paper, dusty from step ladder high book shelves. Finding joy in limited first editions, autographed and locked behind glass doors.  Fairy tales whispered by Hans Christian Andersen - The Snow Queen in a pop up book laced with glitter and scintillation. Falling into stories, Alice's rabbit hole, lost to liquor saying drink me. The young ingénue, naïve and shy, her first role acting, embodying the spoken word through the masters written script. © Sia Jane
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2
Just a Game. . . In the comfortable stockade of my mind Hide and seek cannot be won Tip­toe away and find a hollow, The solitary spot Slipping between turmoil Festering in alcoves Always waiting; back tensed, Adrenalin sheathing the silence If I remain undetected Perhaps the seeker will ease off, Forget the ollie ollie in comfree Leave me stowed away. Much later, I could creep into safety Call a truce, change spots... Yet unmarred, the same old rules; Vicious whispers that ask of unknown. Meaningful glances and gritted teeth, The shock of lush green eyes chasing down memory lane. Wake up, Maple. Wake up. But I wouldn’t, and it didn’t matter. Because the stabbing whispers would continue inside; Dueling emotions I long ago left at bay. Reside there, waiting. Counting. Watching. *Ready or not, Here We Come.*
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
Hide and Seek and Hide and Hide
There is constant tension around the pool, Yet the adrenalin is pumping in your veins We are always ready for something in life - like a dramatic gunshot before a race, However, a false start will set you back. We are always eager at the beginning of a project, like diving into the pool, but how long can we keep this up? The focus is on the finishing line, but there is always a sense of doubt in our minds. You try not to compare yourself with the swimmer next to you, as your eyes glance in their direction while gasping for air. Comparisons will be your downfall. Often, you can see your goal in the distance, but negativity creeps in because there are always massive obstacles to get over. You are edging forward, but tiring out at the same time in the chlorinated scented water. Staying positive does not come easy when you are a step behind.
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Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
Have you ever compared your life to a swimming race?
that has taken the mantle, the muse of inspiration, for she - (did you think she was a man-god?) dyes me oft, colors me, ***** me, loves me with intensity hot that near to make my heart stop. poems I did not know, knew not their name, would write, but moments ago, now are chicks in the hatchery hatching, cupcakes in the oven rising, spit in the mouth *********** so fast a-coming, the sustained pleasure the best drug I have designed. seconds ago there were none, a lifetime of moments, now, multitudinous, molecules of oxygenated words flying past my eyes, purposed for inhalation through my skin. all week I have stretched and pecked, shreds of lettuce un satisfied, a title, no poem, a stanza, no poem, like I need a woman, need to write, like I need loving, desperate and raging, need to write. even my alter ego, the hidden me, where I write on the other side of edgy, indie, across border lines, in a name you do not know, nothing. started poems about being enlightened, my eldest sin, my eldest son, hitting a kid with a car, reading writing and 'rithmetic, inch plants, **** about the young poets here, fast track to nowhere. but at 2:22 am awoke, my small engine repaired, the fingers humming flying across the keyboard so fast broke the 3:50 minute mile, dear muse, I hate you with all my love. would it be so terrible if you gave me one complete per day, is that too much to ask? now I am choking gasping on ****** adrenalin cup overflowing, now they come like ******* only a women can have, so many more than one, long short fast furious separate but connected. you make me woman, just like you. one day when get up high where you reside, gonna start a recall petition, and if that don't work, a revolution, to kick out  the cruelty y'all dish out, the tornadoes and typhoons, return the missing to their parents, and give inspiration, hope to every human poet upon this living planet. now I comprehend why Shakespeare's theater was called The Globe.
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Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 5:58 AM UTC
Cruel is the God
that has taken the mantle, the muse of inspiration, for she - (did you think she was a man-god?) dyes me oft, colors me, ***** me, loves me with intensity hot that near to make my heart stop. poems I did not know, knew not their name, would write, but moments ago, now are chicks in the hatchery hatching, cupcakes in the oven rising, spit in the mouth *********** so fast a-coming, the sustained pleasure the best drug I have designed. seconds ago there were none, a lifetime of moments, now, multitudinous, molecules of oxygenated words flying past my eyes, purposed for inhalation through my skin. all week I have stretched and pecked, shreds of lettuce un satisfied, a title, no poem, a stanza, no poem, like I need a woman, need to write, like I need loving, desperate and raging, need to write. even my alter ego, the hidden me, where I write on the other side of edgy, indie, across border lines, in a name you do not know, nothing. started poems about being enlightened, my eldest sin, my eldest son, hitting a kid with a car, reading writing and 'rithmetic, inch plants, **** about the young poets here, fast track to nowhere. but at 2:22 am awoke, my small engine repaired, the fingers humming flying across the keyboard so fast broke the 3:50 minute mile, dear muse, I hate you with all my love. would it be so terrible if you gave me one complete per day, is that too much to ask? now I am choking gasping on ****** adrenalin cup overflowing, now they come like ******* only a women can have, so many more than one, long short fast furious separate but connected. you make me woman, just like you. one day when get up high where you reside, gonna start a recall petition, and if that don't work, a revolution, to kick out  the cruelty y'all dish out, the tornadoes and typhoons, return the missing to their parents, and give inspiration, hope to every human poet upon this living planet. now I comprehend why Shakespeare's theater was called The Globe.
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80
addicted turning on you you’re more toxic than ****** scroll fluid in my veins you're dangerous a sweet poison harmful to my health I fill myself with you of your essence every fiber of me wants to feel you your voice your words your smell your hands your mouth light me up and raise me to dizzying heights and they throw with me in adrenalin descents that leave me breathless you’re never enough darkness takes you away and I’m  in withdrawal symptoms you’re  hot oil in my veins burn my nervous system my heart is covered with pus a thin and  unquenchable itchy crawls under my skin my brain cells seeking frantic satisfaction in wrinkles of memory dig every corner crave a drop of you forgotten on  the bottom of an empty bottle you’re toxic abstinence doesn’t give me  peace I’m alienated in a whirl of strobe lights sweat dehydrated confused find me take me save me
0
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
abstinence
Revving up the engine of the gleaming funky machine before zooming around, gave her such an Adrenalin high, nonperil. The constant ****** no guy ever could promise, this act gives her. She is pleased for that moment, gets ready for the ****** rigmarole, the very next second. She gets jealous of her own story, ever heard of that? On the race course and the spread bed alike her ebullience creates tsunami waves,broke long standing records. When you run fast enough there comes a moment,when there is no record left to break! and the beds, you guessed right, all are broken, made redundant. And then the inevitable happens, she smells leaking gas, panics, freezes on the track, shuddering, switches off quickly the engine of her dream machine,her heartbeat, makes the final escape,spontaneously, without delay, decides to renounce worldly pleasures altogether, up to the Himalayas goes by foot, seeking that thing which in life she missed all along, Finds silver light's play on ice caps, and realize this: she was walking through a dark, dark  tunnel , of self-deception,"Affluenza" was indeed her affliction. The Himalayan snow cap, loomed large as an attraction, in her dreams once, now seemed less formidable, at arm's length, "What a Guru,who looked timelessly ancient, jokingly predicted  once, comes true here"she muses. Her trek upwards resumes with a vengeance.
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Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 6:08 AM UTC
Himalayan snow white
Lust, attraction.. attachment. I'm at the mercy of biochemistry. Cupid with his arrow, shot my soul. In a ridiculous fashion. It makes no sense.. is it supposed to? Flushes cheeks, my hearts racing.. hands are clammy. Never met a soul I was close to. The dopamine, could be the nicotine. I'm blinded.. such a beautiful face The adrenalin & serotonin coursing through my veins. I find I'm tempted, temporarily insane. Cupids star struck victim. Vasopressin & oxytocin in my nervous system. Tell me are these the drugs for long term commitment? I just had to laugh.. in my experience, good things never last. Like the ocean, my love for you was vast. I guess cupid missed his shot The time has come, your love went past. Like cocain, I'm sure there's a better way. It was all just chemicals anyway..
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Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 10:59 PM UTC
Serotonin & Dopamine
It feels good first That punch you throw Powered with adrenalin Triumph!  you crow Losing control Each threat you shout Driving Emotion prevails Anger has clout Primal howling I  cannot speak A volatile Damnation Beneath my feet A fiend unleashed A dark winged thing Wrenching the curtain aside Madness is king You’ve crossed the line There is no doubt Dimensions of cruelty Madness wins out No forgiveness The devil cheers Waylaid in selfish desires Demonic fears Fear holds its breath Sardonic gloom Too turbulent to control Foreboding doom Peace is exiled No looking back Thrusts of heartless violence Repression hacked Paradise lost Cherished hatred Surging over boundaries Nothing sacred Stuff of nightmares Robs me of sleep Letting go with a vengeance Monster’s relief I cannot bear This heavy weight Id’s inner realm Desolate hate Transcendence shows All states of thought Each a world unto itself Not shaken off Silence that grudge Revenge aint sweet It turns back on you like a Missile seeks heat
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Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
Revenge
To have a fling at work is accepting a lot of adrenalin running through your veins. Mostly unrewarding, seldomly paid off and heartbreaking.
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Quote ~ ix
and the unconditional love and the humility that it takes, to stand naked with **** erected and to be whipped,long and hard and loveingly, with a custom 3 foot signal whip. The welcome 500 to 700 lashes laid upon my naked back and buttocks, vigoriously and lovingly by my twin flame, that take me beyond any adrenal blockage imposed by mind and conditioned identity. Ah the warm comfort of ****** "Just warming up" she giggles, then takes her custom 2 foot bullwhip and give the shaft of my stiff wobbling and bobbing **** 65 carefully aimed and oh so stinging strokes, the tip of the whip painfully flicking my shaven ***** on each stroke, and like a proper slave I say"thank you Mistress" after each stinging burning stroke. And then I slide the full length of my stiff and burning shaft into the unconditionally loving cool and soft fragrant moisture of her beingnesss and am absorbed instantly  without a trace. I burn in multi colours. I am two in one. I am one in two. I am a Lava Lamp!!!. Do you have the discipline to deep nasally breathe your way into the maximum Adrenalin flow that comes as a result of the sadomasochistic ****** way of breaking your lifelong Adrenal suppression?.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
do you have the discipline
Though  flames  may  roar, And  raging  fires  sore. When  fear  stricken   heart, We  always  play  our  part.   The  bleak  unsure  smoke  rises  dense  and  dark, Each moment  grows  longer  with each little spark. No matter  the  struggle  we keep  fighting  through, Alert  and  aware  we  know  what  we  must  do.   Blind  to  a  hand  just  before our  face, Against  the clock  we  must  quickly  race. For  when it  gets  down  to the  last  desperate  wire, Swift  and  efficient  we  will  put out  that  fire.   Though  the  chances  are  we’ve never  met, When  needed  a  savior  you  can  always  expect. While  echoed  sirens  may  blare  and  ring, We  hear  the  muffled  night  cries  sing.   There's  no  such  thing  as  simple  routine, Ignoring  monotony  that  lies  in  between. Very  real consequences  we are more  than  aware, From possible  situations  beyond  any compare.   Not  a  second  allowed  for  one  breath  of  fear, Never  a  moment   to  shed  a  single  silent  tear. Because  when  you're  in desperate  dire  need, We  will  always  strive  our  very  best  to  succeed.   Blood  flowing  in Red,  White  and  Blue, We’re  Brothers  dedicated  in  all  that  we  do. In  death’s  darkest  shadows  we  may  dare  to roam, Yet  we  know  that  we  may  each  not  always  come  home. This  is  our deepest  heartfelt  desire, Given to  us  from a  place  so  much  higher. In  all  that  we  do  each  risk  taken  for you, Our  passion  runs  deep  we’re  dedicated  and  true.   Some  tend  to forget  that  this  is  our  real  life, That  we  also  have children,  friends  and  our  wife. We  walk the  thin  line  though  it  sometimes  narrows, In  this world  we are someone’s  real  life superheroes.   In case you forget dear when you leave in the morning, I ask you darling to please head my forewarning. When  overcome  with  adrenalin I remind  you  to  fight, To  come  home yourself dear at  the end  of  each  night.
0
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC
Thin Red Line
Though  flames  may  roar, And  raging  fires  sore. When  fear  stricken   heart, We  always  play  our  part.   The  bleak  unsure  smoke  rises  dense  and  dark, Each moment  grows  longer  with each little spark. No matter  the  struggle  we keep  fighting  through, Alert  and  aware  we  know  what  we  must  do.   Blind  to  a  hand  just  before our  face, Against  the clock  we  must  quickly  race. For  when it  gets  down  to the  last  desperate  wire, Swift  and  efficient  we  will  put out  that  fire.   Though  the  chances  are  we’ve never  met, When  needed  a  savior  you  can  always  expect. While  echoed  sirens  may  blare  and  ring, We  hear  the  muffled  night  cries  sing.   There's  no  such  thing  as  simple  routine, Ignoring  monotony  that  lies  in  between. Very  real consequences  we are more  than  aware, From possible  situations  beyond  any compare.   Not  a  second  allowed  for  one  breath  of  fear, Never  a  moment   to  shed  a  single  silent  tear. Because  when  you're  in desperate  dire  need, We  will  always  strive  our  very  best  to  succeed.   Blood  flowing  in Red,  White  and  Blue, We’re  Brothers  dedicated  in  all  that  we  do. In  death’s  darkest  shadows  we  may  dare  to roam, Yet  we  know  that  we  may  each  not  always  come  home. This  is  our deepest  heartfelt  desire, Given to  us  from a  place  so  much  higher. In  all  that  we  do  each  risk  taken  for you, Our  passion  runs  deep  we’re  dedicated  and  true.   Some  tend  to forget  that  this  is  our  real  life, That  we  also  have children,  friends  and  our  wife. We  walk the  thin  line  though  it  sometimes  narrows, In  this world  we are someone’s  real  life superheroes.   In case you forget dear when you leave in the morning, I ask you darling to please head my forewarning. When  overcome  with  adrenalin I remind  you  to  fight, To  come  home yourself dear at  the end  of  each  night.
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41
on the adrenalin of popularity they thrive it pumps within their veins so inflated if there were none they'd not survive an accolade won't make them feel deflated they've got to receive all the bolstering it pumps within their veins so inflated always gathering plaudits for a holstering which brings unto them that air of rise they've got to receive all the bolstering the supporter base not going into demise devotees keeping the pulse throbbing swell which brings unto them that air of rise to be the premier acts in a long spell falling out of favour they'll not easily tolerate devotees keeping the pulse throbbing swell much adulation ever liking to slate falling out of favour they'll not easily tolerate on the adrenalin of popularity they thrive if there were none they'd not survive
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
The Adrenalin Of Popularity (Terzanelle)
On wheels On the road Off our heads City bound Let's go bro Let the adrenalin flow In search of narcotics On Devilment Row Where the good don't go Here dealers compete In a threatening way And if you're not bold You better not stay Young joeys surround you On the carpark But you ignore them And head inside The deals are better in there Though the risks are higher Amidst the heavy hitters Thirty or forty To pick and choose from What ya sellin'? What ya deals like? Everyone's suspicious And everyone's armed There are people murdered In this part of town And nobody blinks an eye And you know that when You're that close to death You feel so very much alive By Phil Roberts
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Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
ADVENTURES
The first time I fell in love was on a basketball court Adrenalin was pumping The sound of sneakers squeaking across the floor echoed in our ears I rebounded the ball and passed to the point guard We quickly adjusted our offense I was in the pocket Bounce pass to me Quick lay-up It’s in But it wasn’t long before I fell in love again The second time I fell in love was with painting I painted anything and everything My room, bathroom, lamps, clothing And sometimes even canvas The satisfaction of prying open a new can of paint Watching the wet paint gather then drip off the lid and slide into the can Or looking at your dried palette after completing a painting The feeling is indescribably in words But I still played basketball The third time I fell in love, I neglected my old hobbies This time it was with a boy Pale face, auburn hair and green eyes He had a kind smile and assured me the world could be ours And it was For two years And even though the last time I played ball was A drunken night outside a brewery in Tel Aviv And even though the last time I painted I used A sponge and toothbrush And even though the last time I saw that smile It was no longer mine to behold I still love all these things But now, I see them in a different way
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Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC
Shoe Box Full of Past Times
TAG YOU'RE IT is what we use to scream Chasing one another around in our innocent whimsical ways As our minds became consumed with Adrenalin and endorphins We felt free while our lungs begged for mercy Just keep moving is what we believed Until we grew older we no longer play the same way Nowadays we play this silly game over social media and texting As our minds became consumed with perfection and depression We feel paralyzed while we wait to get another text or like to portray our perfection to battle the feeling of loneliness Just keep to yourself is what we tell ourselves Because you wont get hurt that way is what we believe
0
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 3:49 PM UTC
TAG YOU'RE IT!!!!!!
Who's always taking pictures Who's always on the scene Snaps the Stars at their worst Bikini thunder thighs with cottage cheese He catches Stars out jogging When they are a sweaty slimy mess That is when this Paparazzi Is at his photogenic best He finds them out to dinner Makes sure their forks are full So he can catch them stuffing face Halle Berry...you've just been schooled The Stars have no idea how much It is that they need him To keep their names in the press And their butts down at the gym He loves the feeling that he gets Adrenalin rush that keeps him high Never is a job complete Till he can make a Big Star cry There's not a project that he won't take on The one in which he is most proud The pic of the President having lunch with the aliens That photo shop was his brain child So give it up for the Paparazzi Who entertains in the grocery isle every day Giving us all the latest scoop On who is and isn't gay Yes, without the Paparazzi We would never be in the know And now knowing all that Hollywood does We can be thankful for a life that's dull!
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May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 8:08 AM UTC
*Paparazzi*
i am trapped in a neon arcade where machines bump hum and hiss i am a red-cheeked blond boy with blue tiled streetlamps i've been slapped by my aunt and the burn of my flesh stinks and rises to meet the acid gas hovering over the city adrenalin runs into my armpits from my crying eyes and i will be lost immobile and dumb unless the longhaired angels descend from their albatross and sing to me of kindness i will rust under thriving tree roots and be the forgotten target of armies i will burn on the emerald horizon floating silent over bright blue cloud-brains
0
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
embarrassed, more than hurt
the glass cliffs of the city echo to the sound of an adrenalin rush motor cars, buses and trucks all in the fast lane hectic the movement on the streets not a second goes by without a noise filled beat the scurried hurry of pedestrians all of whom are bound to a full on gait the quietness of a bush landscape is a locale slow in time there a soul can unwind walking at leisure through a wood of countless trees taking a pause along the way to listen to the hum of bees birds twittering their caramel tunes catching sight of a squirrel nibbling on an acorn husk the glistering sun upon the river's trace nothing can beat the countryside's space
0
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Countryside's Space
it confuses me daily that so many people are having *** even at this very moment, i'm sitting in a book store sipping coffee that burnt at first sip where are they? in their homes? in public? i'm avoiding it, not on purpose that's just how its worked itself out there in the moment with them its exciting adrenalin in pumping and all thats left is to strip yet i won't let it happen i feel the rush and the chills but that's it the closest i've ever got to feeling what you call 'horny' it all started with a cuddle he said it best himself, don't cuddle, you'll catch feelings no **** probably could have went a few more years but he was drunk and all he asked was for me to stay to cuddle and that's what we did all night i woke to him in a slight sweat and it happened i then knew what you are supposed to feel in those moments after that, he messed me up now i can't handle him grabbing my hip to move me out the way he can sit too close and there it is again what the hell? and other people have felt this since they were preteens?! i would burst what i don't get is why it never happened again other boys/other girls kisses/bites/touches no one makes me feel the same that feeling is what has been missing why i couldn't say yes i feel nothing with them, so i sit there fully dressed he won't get too close it's funny because he doesn't remember us we were laying nose to nose on new years, what i wanted happened we kissed in the mix of the dozen lips we got home and yet nothing happened i didn't want to take advantage of our blurred visions one day i hope i get it the feeling he gave me he may never say yes but i'll always have that feeling **** demisexuality
0
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 3:37 PM UTC
*** is spelt Y.E.S.
it confuses me daily that so many people are having *** even at this very moment, i'm sitting in a book store sipping coffee that burnt at first sip where are they? in their homes? in public? i'm avoiding it, not on purpose that's just how its worked itself out there in the moment with them its exciting adrenalin in pumping and all thats left is to strip yet i won't let it happen i feel the rush and the chills but that's it the closest i've ever got to feeling what you call 'horny' it all started with a cuddle he said it best himself, don't cuddle, you'll catch feelings no **** probably could have went a few more years but he was drunk and all he asked was for me to stay to cuddle and that's what we did all night i woke to him in a slight sweat and it happened i then knew what you are supposed to feel in those moments after that, he messed me up now i can't handle him grabbing my hip to move me out the way he can sit too close and there it is again what the hell? and other people have felt this since they were preteens?! i would burst what i don't get is why it never happened again other boys/other girls kisses/bites/touches no one makes me feel the same that feeling is what has been missing why i couldn't say yes i feel nothing with them, so i sit there fully dressed he won't get too close it's funny because he doesn't remember us we were laying nose to nose on new years, what i wanted happened we kissed in the mix of the dozen lips we got home and yet nothing happened i didn't want to take advantage of our blurred visions one day i hope i get it the feeling he gave me he may never say yes but i'll always have that feeling **** demisexuality
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46
The horror of not knowing is killing the inside of me, of her, of him maybe of you We, all of us have at least once in our lives imagined whats next We, all of us have followed a schedule so we'd know whats next The horror of knowing is very specific is truely full of adrenalin it kicks me right in the chest None of us would enjoy the full experience of knowing everything None of us can be in the power of knowing everything We all have doubts, hopes, dreams, sorrows, speciel moments. Sometimes those doubts, hopes, dreams, sorrows and speciel moments won't live up till your expectations. Then you'll have to remember that it wouldn't be a gift, to know everything or not to know anything. We are after all only ourselves, and we should live in this, our, moment of time. nothing and no one should mix in and make us think towards the future or the past. We shouldn't hesitate into information. Rethink and if you truly visualize yourself in happiness with the information the go get it, otherwise don't. Another love story of mine, I wanted to know everything, every little **** thing of affairs that happened, had happened or would happen. Well long story short, that relationship didn't work out.
0
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
Knowing and not knowing
The mighty wooden ship awaits, the pirate and his *****                   The massive sails and spinnakers bold pondering seven seas. Adventure beckons, be still my heart, adrenalin rushing forth. My pirate blood, from birth doth flood my veins with plunderous thoughts. But hark, my beloved approaches now With chest of clothes abundant She says we must first speak of things so as not to be redundant. “Before we leave dry land, I must confess of second thoughts about our new address. A secret that I’m holding must be shared: …..I am a little scared. Sea legs, I’ve none, nor a stomach strong. Even my sense of direction is mostly wrong. I’m just hoping that as your Pirate queen, ….. I do not turn green. You’d love to sail away beyond far horizons, though, if you must know, I cannot roam further than my cell phone plan, …..which is Verizon.   Oh let me think this through a minute, My love, my one eyed wonder To sail the earth to see the world To steal and maim and plunder Sounds like fun, but when we’re done - I’ve broken my nails On those ********* sails and I don’t know my stern from my bow My teacher of Zen will want to know when my monthly bill will be paid, anyhow. So I think I must stay, oh and by the way, Have the boatswain untie the cable And get me that yawl or I swear I will crawl To the dock as fast as I’m able. I guess I’m not much of a buccaneer but the thought of the trip made me sick. So a pirate’s life is not one for a wife - at least not a wife with a hair appointment on Thursday!
0
May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 2:32 PM UTC
The Pirates Wife
The mighty wooden ship awaits, the pirate and his *****                   The massive sails and spinnakers bold pondering seven seas. Adventure beckons, be still my heart, adrenalin rushing forth. My pirate blood, from birth doth flood my veins with plunderous thoughts. But hark, my beloved approaches now With chest of clothes abundant She says we must first speak of things so as not to be redundant. “Before we leave dry land, I must confess of second thoughts about our new address. A secret that I’m holding must be shared: …..I am a little scared. Sea legs, I’ve none, nor a stomach strong. Even my sense of direction is mostly wrong. I’m just hoping that as your Pirate queen, ….. I do not turn green. You’d love to sail away beyond far horizons, though, if you must know, I cannot roam further than my cell phone plan, …..which is Verizon.   Oh let me think this through a minute, My love, my one eyed wonder To sail the earth to see the world To steal and maim and plunder Sounds like fun, but when we’re done - I’ve broken my nails On those ********* sails and I don’t know my stern from my bow My teacher of Zen will want to know when my monthly bill will be paid, anyhow. So I think I must stay, oh and by the way, Have the boatswain untie the cable And get me that yawl or I swear I will crawl To the dock as fast as I’m able. I guess I’m not much of a buccaneer but the thought of the trip made me sick. So a pirate’s life is not one for a wife - at least not a wife with a hair appointment on Thursday!
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45
I am invincible. Unbeatable. Headstrong. Each step I take today, with a marked conviction. My blood pumps with purpose. Over-saturated adrenalin Finds rationale a bit overrated. All I remember next, as my thoughts follow my fall, Is a question that has haunted me often. Where'd I go wrong? Wasn't I invincible? Unbeatable? Headstrong?
0
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
Convincing Faith