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"aspirate" poems
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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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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I am the pinnacle of controversy Some say murder-my middle name And still to others I represent freedom, I am the pointed pentagram of blame. Almost mothers spread cold-feet Where I scrape and claw/vacuum aspirate eat. From open, porous, space-between-legs My Gnashing teeth-grind out the would be meat. I am the noise that is never forgotten Detaching zygotes from walls of womb I am the reality of ****** indiscretion- the tomb I do my job- do I play  “God” ? For the ****** behind doors Carrying secrets & dreams of more They leave one less-plus future full-term slide up their stockings & hope not to return I’m the last to see the mothers-to-be Before they change- rearranged I see geometrically: each.separate.part: Chalk eyes never wet just hurt Lips-lined straight with shame chins that never wobble- 50/50 tipped to pray & feet with nowhere to fall, they walk away I am the pin-cushion point of pain To what the picketing protesters agenda is aimed I am where pro-life and pro-choice meet The executioner of straight to heavens unborn elite I am the buzzing abortion machine.
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
Abortion Machine
I do confess to **** But I can't not aspirate
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Confessions Of A Turbo Charger (10 w)
There was a girl who danced in the city that night, that April 22nd, all along the Charles River. It was as if one hundred men were watching or do I mean the one hundred eyes of God? The yellow patches in the sycamores glowed like miniature flashlights. The shadows, the skin of them were ice cubes that flashed from the red dress to the roof. Mile by mile along the Charles she danced past the benches of lovers, past the dogs ******* on the benches. She had on a red, red dress and there was a small rain and she lifted her face to it and thought it part of the river. And cars and trucks went by on Memorial Drive. And the Harvard students in the brick hallowed houses studied Sappho in cement rooms. And this Sappho danced on the grass. and danced and danced and danced. It was a death dance. The Larz Anderson bridge wore its lights and many cars went by, and a few students strolling under their Coop umbrellas. And a black man who asked this Sappho the time, the time, as if her watch spoke. Words were turning into grease, and she said, "Why do you lie to me?" And the waters of the Charles were beautiful, sticking out in many colored tongues and this strange Sappho knew she would enter the lights and be lit by them and sink into them. And how the end would come - it had been foretold to her - she would aspirate swallowing a fish, going down with God's first creature dancing all the way.
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1.8k
The Red Dance
Whilst you daydreamed, your eyes seemed to lose their sheen and you'd forget  how to empathise. You shut the car door hard as  if someone who wanted to aspirate closure. We spent two nights at the Cooden Beach hotel, so we could hear June Tabor and Oyster band, proceeding this performance , we had our four slices of toast and an Americano. Your pink canvas bag and polished  stilettos underneath the dinner table hid an issue or two playing a parallel game.
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Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 3:04 PM UTC
Buried Treasure
Open the windows of your house through which the wind would never enter. And then you'll feel on fire more than in your own home. Aspirate the smell of the infinity: pale sky and blinding lights. Nothing is so restricted, except your great lovers. Paint in red to be able to love me. Paint in yellow to be able to cheer me. But don't paint in blue. Blue makes me unhappy, because it's not lovely (like a learner). Turn on the fire able to burn this fiction. Now happiness, now satisfaction; everything by which I relief. Turn off the esteem unable to have you. And I'm glad to know that I still know you.
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
Blue House
Where green grass grows Smokes our Village In the crumble of ash that you assured Could never be lit In the first place Where memories run never age Where we remain in sage I'll never learn I'm looping ruins Even when I cross where you strayed Even as I Run right through me Run until you can't breathe Run until your lungs squeeze The last gasp ever to spare Aspirate on time Breathing in deep Despair
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Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
"Aspirate"
No longer a thought within my brain, the mortician lay me down to sleep a scream i refrained surfaced as white within my eyes that none had bought my vitals he checked and thumped my nose as a creep then: a bath and massage no dance but song two strong hands then set my face arterial embalming then drain/eject it's all the same the cavity -- aspirate and concentrate The humming thrumming burning desire escaped as soon as with a pop I fled my skin and faced the choice to do it once again. :: 10-23-2018 ::
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Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 10:26 PM UTC
DEATH'S PASSAGES
a thing of beauty must be deployed In our blue we have our grey and these days, we have our nights dastardly. we aspirate cyanide to untie the blight of our last glut of sharp knives you choose cruel lugers from your armory. you leave your lead in me, often. we shoot from the hip or blast mad laughter in caverns of rotten. I croak a **** of lungs you clot and never do we charm a lot; we’d rather our druthers be other words that **** words that abandon blood troubles for ill will. our love, hates still. a thing of beauty must be deployed. In our blue we have our days. and that grey, is parched no matter the threat of rain. we last and fade, grasping at straw suns with moon fingers as we may.
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Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
a thing of beauty must be deployed
we used to lie awake at night in the winter months i kept a warm water bottle at my feet like it was the old days on the frontier we used to bet against freedom and the people out there "i bet i never make it out of here alive" and clock the psych patients pacing with the shards of bathroom tiles in their hands or make promises to it "i'm gonna drink up all the freedom i can find out there" "i'll snort all the dirt road dust that the watermelon bus kicks up" "i'm gonna mainline it directly into my vein so much that my head gets heavy and i swing back and aspirate my one and only dream and ********* into my blue jeans"
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Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 7:35 PM UTC
in jail
Drowning in reflecting pool, I fall as vision blurs Shroud myself in liquid cool and aspirate my bitter words Crickets chirp on summer night and shadows cling to me Stomach ties in tiny knots from what I know's in store for me I reached out for a star, I cupped my hand, and took my turn but didn't ponder consequence and wound up getting burned Like a taste of immortality, then hearing that you're terminal The crashing of reality is somewhere south of wonderful So give a contribution of the eyes, unto the seas Build the wall back, good as new as dignified composure flees Close my eyes and sigh away a sliver of that empty ache That's spreading like a cancer through my chest I think I'll chase the summer South, hear wisdom from another mouth, admit I'm now a different kind of mess Like celebrating life and love by going to a funeral Feathers shed from wings of doves lie somewhere south of wonderful
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May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
South of Wonderful