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Andrew Name Apr 2015
rain dogs
lightn bolts
wet shirt
at forty five

pants soak
holes float
aflush with road
abig like sky


black chai
death sticks
all sunk
I hated it dry
forty five: degrees
ConnectHook Jan 2017
♀  ♀  ♀

Hey you! In the ******-hat,
frumpy feminist dressed in pink;
we men (what do you make of that)
would love to know just what you think.

We've heard of "***-hats", anyway.
But we can see the other side:
it's orificial bombs away
as bridegrooms now behold the bride.

Gynecology on parade:
how weird. You think it makes your point?
It's more a vaginal charade,
and promises to disappoint.

You say your cap evokes your *****;
feline foolishness, I say.
It's cat in bag when fems get fussy
showing patriarchs the way.

Show us yours and we'll show our own.
Well actually, it's kind of cold
to whip it out right here downtown...
We'll grant you this: you chicks are bold.

Your choice-aborted progeny,
disposed of in the clinic's trash,
might blame you for misogyny—
though spared the curse of diaper rash.

We'll keep abreast of all you do,
chanting, marching, fists in air...
yet still, you seem a silly crew
aflush with zeal (and ***** hair).

But must it always come to this:
biology devoid of God ?
Exteriorizing, hit and miss,
the secrets of your aging ***...
({i})  (|)  ({i})

inspired by some of the bizarre costumes and slogans on display at the January 21 Women's March on Washington. March on, ladies !
Devan Proctor Nov 2011
from downtown
back to your door
we swing brown bottles
and warm our salty skin
while you ache to bookmark
the middle of this july-

(your road is stretched long and far
but i know where it goes)

-we already know the summer
as it settles over salt and coats the land
and cups our skin

-its dust repeats itself
shamelessly
and drives us to porches
and brown bottles
and your ninth cigarette
and unrequited conversation-

(my mind splits itself up
when every second is stagnant-
when somewhere else keeps calling-
when my violent beast starts snarling)

and then five thirty
looks like so many violets-
queen anne's lace and cattails-
all the bouncing bees
and thrushes-

-the fields aflush with
full grains and hairs and fibers
and all the murmuring voices-

-is screaming
and so wanted
and away from the road
we walk on
(this road-
one of yours)

-looks less believable
with every step-
(the road is stretched long and far
and you know where it goes)

i could not tear away from it
to keep my eyes on your road-
you swig from all your bottles-
you follow the dust?-
can we be lions instead?

did you know there is no road?
we need only taste the air,
or glean the wind
Lisa Rickman Feb 2010
aflush with nerves

brush against me

little death

flash of heat

unsteady beats

kiss me?



so consuming
waves washing
heavy breathing
clouded mind
pulsing heat
fingers brushing
nerves tingling
panic rising
kiss me?
Catherine Feb 2021
A soul’s vine is encased with demise.
Towering stalks desiccate to bister mummies and
Aflush dreams of romance capsize into sour, obsidian soil.  

Exhausted leaves crumble when the sun goes down
And amber tears of stinging sap drizzle from hollow sepal’s
That once hugged tender safad petals in the raw night
Like a child clinging to their eham biar yadashte.

Eclipsed roots search for taskeen semblance.
Divest thorns flourish on their throne,
Devouring golden seeds of promise.

Tishna fruit wither into ember dust,
Particles brushing away in the restless wind
Until all that lays are flattened memories

Forgotten, forsaken, fanni.

Word Search
Machana Ruh (roo): A Wilting Soul
Safad: Pure milky white
Eham biar yadashte: That feeling of something from our childhood that gave us inanimate affection. Something we, still to this day, can not let go of because it carries all our intimate memories and emotions (Like a teddy bear or blanket).  
Taskeen (Tash-kean): The warm feeling of home
Fanni (Fa-nee): Mortal fragility
Tishna: When a person is dehydrated to the point of death
Sputter Outlaw Apr 2016
In mid morning dew
Why find you so sullen?
it's of no regret to see
you beacon of blasphemy
when all I's want is
one short
token of indulgency.

Frequent my life
ift you do but dare
respend my strife
if you dost care

weren't it so strange a thing
if by now twere bought a diamond ring
without learning you by now
acquiescent knowledge acsertained
but how?

You are a rose of sorts combined
a fleetful and enormous kind
with skin and flesh delush
mine fitlful longing aflush

For

Despite all sentiment still obscene
I regail you as my love, my Queen
Butch Decatoria Dec 2015
Breathing hard,
we swam in the oceans of our skin

bodies hot,
flesh aflush

as you fall  beside me
feigning to be tired.

I close my eyes
and think about the twilight beach

if it will be you or the moon
walking alongside me

within the decrepitudes
of waning one nights,
stands your inconsequential manhood...

As our Friday night disco breathing
Slows with the silence of regret,

you get up to towel down;
Yet I allow your power to dry on me

but you come and wipe away our ***
as you kiss each place

where you had landed
yet you never consider

my lips...
Other title - "Bruce"
Butch Decatoria Jul 2016
Discard emotion,
blank expression like cold stone,
your full house aflush.
Butch Decatoria May 2020
Breathing hard,
we swam in the ocean of one skin

bodies hot,
flesh aflush

as you fall  beside me
feigning to be tired.

I close my eyes
and think about the beach at twilight,

if it will be you or the moon
walking alongside me there

within the decrepitudes
of waning one night

stands your inconsequential
manhood...

As our Friday night  breathing
Slows to a silence of regret,

you get up to towel down;
While I allow your power to dry on me.

Still, you come and wipe away our ***
as you kiss each place

where you had landed
yet you never consider

my lips...
All I need is a whiff
Of You
And I expound a million poems
On bare tree limbs
innumerable theories of multi-dimensional possibilities
I explode into the wind surfing with countless wings
And I sing in languages
I had never heard or learnt before
All I need is a whiff
Of You
And suddenly it's spring
The stark days of empty eyes and
void within
The dark days of drought upon my heart
And blue necrosis of my pen
Are things of the past
All I need is a whiff
Of you
And Like unfinished paintings on a
Rain washed golden coast
Washed clean, shining,
I am a plush new page
aflush with spring
Easily forgotten the eons of glacial silence
I am ready to somersault and sing
A whiff of you
And I spin parallel universes
Always You my emperor & I the empress
Repeats in each world I create
And here I am espousing paeans
Of what's turning out to be of epic proportions
Of orginally my two para hymns
All I need is a whiff
And I know not where and how or even why
these Thoughts come flooding in
And I am rolling out an endless red carpet
of ceaseless verses
To soften your footfall
in my dreams
All I need is a whiff
And I am in eternal spring
I am a tender shoot racing to embrace the sky
A vein of gold - lode, created in an instant
And I go wild I am on a rampage
Waking ravenous
I am a dictionary of hungry cravings
Despite last night's sumptuous fare
All I need is a whiff
of you
And I am a turmoil
All my theories stand de-constructed
My defences dismantled
My spiritual pursuit mis-directed
My lofty claims in dust
I am a muddy urn of unfulfilled desires
A whiff
All I need is a whiff..
------
©SeemaKJayaraman
Seemakj
Mumbai
17 Mar 2020

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