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A de Carvalho May 2012
We live in a world of noise,
of parallel and asymmetric movement,
where nonchalance has become the norm.
Sweet, melodious and pleasing
is our phony makeup.
We are animals that reject our animalness.

We dread nuclear, secular, red lights, cockroaches, love,
threats and non-threats alike.
Fear has taken us on its morning stroll,
and predictably we bark.
(The sun is almost up)  

We are turned on and turned off
by oil-, wind- and hydro-powered switches
that respond to clapping.
There are beige, mauve and burgundy
curtains to choose from,
and supersized french-fries, pots, and cars.
We have lost ourselves in a mess of options,
and strive incessantly to complicate.

We fly in formation
and flow through carefully placed
and beautifully colored rocks made from Styrofoam,
down an improbable *****
of over-romanticized hypotheses.
We are *******, ego-centric and nepotistic,
and asexually multiply.

Thought and all other wasted rationality
keeps the axes of our unsustainable and fanatical wheels
from breaking loose (into free space and true autonomy).
We create meaning where there is no meaning,
and scientifically and thoroughly flout
god and the truth,
whilst we absorb, photosynthesize, bear fruits and grow leaves
(we are still, essentially, vegetable).

With every step we go deeper, and faster and better,
and farther from our selves.
Hence, we barely feel.
We are deaf and blind and mute
and approximately frozen;
and dance, swirl, sing and scream
in our vague, whimsical life,
till we fall.
Mahdiya Patel Oct 2017
We are all rapists
Of the most beautiful women
We abuse her body
And make her feel less
We fill her with our destructive ***
To the brim

Drip , drip , drip
She's gonna explode with our morbid "love juice"
We as humans have altered the way we love
Instead we destroy and survive
We **** like animals
Bent over in the street
And we keep penetrating her soft curves and harsh waves , her valley like stretch marks

And yet
She still provides for us
She gifts us with the perfect combination of gas
To keep destroying and filling her as she closes her eyes and can't fight anymore

Until she can't exist anymore and our animalness won't have a place to prosper anymore.

~M.P
Rosemare Visser Jun 2015
It is the woman who succumbs to the temptuous
It is the woman who becomes the temptuous
It is the woman who bears
It is the woman who tears
It is the woman who bears again
It is the woman who tears again and again and again

Bearer of death, bearer of life
It is the woman
Bearer of girdle, bearer of griddle
Animalness, Madness , hysterics,
sorceress, torturess
Again and again and again
New times, new suits

Object of pleasure, object of comfort, object of scorn
Object of discomfort
Purple body, purple heart
It is a ****** affair,
and a ****** affair again
and again
Womanhood
Guilty as charged

A birth occurs
of spirit
of mind
of soul
A new world awakens
It is the woman,  the woman it is!
KENNETH LEONG Oct 2018
If I were to live in another time,
I may be called a temple priestess.
But today, we servants of the Goddess
are despised and called “******.”
Why is it wrong
to be a lover of men?
Why is it a crime
to make a living serving them?
Why can’t they see
that I too make an offering to the Most High?
Every cell of my body enjoys
pleasuring men.
I love the way men feel.
I savor the way men smell.
I yearn for the ferocity,
the animalness of men’s passion;
the way they grab me
and move.
I give pleasure,
I receive pleasure.
It feels so safe and snug
when I have a man inside.
Watching men ******
throws me over the edge.
I am Aphrodite’s temple,
the sunny place where men visit
to seek warmth and healing.
Let me stay true to my ***** self.
Why feel ashamed
about loving to ****?
Why feel guilty about
the act that brings us all here?
It’s how you and I are made.
Delicious ***,
the very spice of life,
makes my garden bloom.
Let me take pride of my whoredom;
it’s the place where I live and create.
Don’t make me apologize,
for this is the sacred path I choose.
What an honor to serve pleasure,
to be the holy receptacle.
It’s my calling and my gift.
This is what life is about--
serving others, sharing joy,
re-creating life with carnal music,
making myself
quiver and come.

— The End —