"attractively" poems
Let me love you right as a friend.
Let me hold you tight.
Give a kiss goodnight towards the end.
Wake up to that morning light
My female friends said my heart is like gold.
A caring perfection never controlled.
This a story never foretold
Express your problems never untold.
I’m here to help you carry that load.
Take your time as I hold your hand.
Because I’m DatGuy an Understanding Gentleman.
Your conscience is saying “Let him in”.
I’ll give all my trust...it won’t hurt.
Take the time to readjust...please insert.
I’m giving you a meal before dessert.
This is real..deal or no deal.
Like the game show with Howie.
I know your wondering DatGuy “how is he?”
“Why is he so attractively getting too attached to me.”
I always say I have an old soul so classically.
Like a musical masterpiece.
I’m just here because I had to be.
Your just here because you had to see.
I want you to believe not every male.
Would lie or tell-a-tale towards a female.
There’s only a few very passionate.
This is true no need to imagine it...
I want you to understand me.
As a friend no make believe or pretend.
That I’m here for you until the day we end.
Right now let’s enjoy this Day as it Begins..
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
O Christ—Thou rarest flower of hearts—Thou didst sail on the storm-tossed lake of prejudiced minds. Its evil-scented, gloomy thought-waves lashed Thy lily-tender soul. They crucified Thee with their evil. Yet Thou didst shed the aroma of goodness and forgiveness, and didst help them to be purified by remorse, so helping them to become attractively sweet-scented with Thine all-loving Flower-Soul.
O Thou Great Lover of error-torn brothers—an unseen monument of the mightiest miracle of love was established in each heart when the magic wand of Thy voice uttered: "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Thou hast healed the cataract of hatred, and now we have grown to see: "Love thine enemies as thyself, for they are thy brothers—though sick and sleeping."
Thou hast taught us not to increase their delirious kicks of hatred by battering them with the bludgeons of revenge. Thine undying sympathy hath inspired us to heal and wake our brothers, suffering from the delirium of anger, by the soothing salve of our forgiveness.
Thy crucifixion reminds us of the daily crucifixion of our fortitude by trials, of our wisdom by ignorance, of our self-control by the scathing hands of temptation, and of our love by misunderstanding.
Thy test on the cross proved the victory of Thy wisdom over ignorance, of Thy soul over flesh, of Thy happiness over pain, and of Thy love over hatred. So are we heartened to bear our crosses bravely and pleasantly. Teach us to pour out sweetness when crucified by harshness, to bear with calmness the assault of worries, and to give understanding unceasingly to those who unjustly hate us.
O Shepherd of Souls, wandering hearts are of themselves seeking the one fold of divine devotion. We have heard the ever-calling music of Thine infinite kindness. Our one desire is to be at home with Thee, to receive the Cosmic Father with joyous, open eyes of wisdom, and to know that we are all sons of our own One God.
Teach us to conquer the Satan of dividing selfishness, which prevents the gathering of all brother-souls into the one fold of Spirit.
Calling to one another by the watchword: "Love him who loves you, and love all who love you not," let us rally beneath the canopy of the universal sense of Christ-Oneness. Amen.
Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition
3.2k
Hypocrite,
Hypocrite am I.
Cruel nature
plays the harshest games,
the fire-on-the-Cuyahoga,
shit-splatter brain busters.
The city is cooled by her
harsh and horrifyingly
Maternal touch.
Snow falls attractively
on the dying city below,
picaresque and perfect
in this last-winter scene.
The two sky scrapers
pierce through winter's
frozen cocoon,
though envelop will be the
less threshed land.
Slums are ravished in snow,
spoiled by the cold
cold cold crying
of a maiden not warm.
I am buried beneath
layers of snow,
reddened when paled,
angered by my cooling.
Numbing comes with this
frenzied freeze,
like the kids down the street
who grow out their beards
even though they can't
grow their *****
I am numbed
despite the fact that
Feeling is fruitful;
cruel nature does not wish
for such connections
to fall upon me.
Perhaps it is love,
and I would love to believe so,
that causes her to covet-
no, hoard me so.
Perhaps it is love,
and it so clearly is ringing in this numb numb numbness,
that causes her to bury me
in mountains of snow.
I am counting down the time
til my melt down,
as spring is not so long away.
Perhaps it is love,
and the rising flowers whisper it like jealous children oft do,
that she has always been
so deathly afraid of.
This is the spring of our love,
But we are not as springy as we should be.
Hypocrite,
Hypocrite am I.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 7:42 PM UTC
The soft butter melts slowly
Caressing every inch of
this white soft and fluffy...
from the top of the dough
To the center.. and it falls
gracefully to the bottom
Golden brown color it turns to
as it mixes with some brown sugar
dancing, rocking the buttery bread
attractively rise and shine....
Beautiful...
the whole kitchen of mine.....
The aroma of sweet cinnamon fills the air
My mommy's kitchen homemade bakery....
the true meaning of love is here...
The labor of love
passionately blends
in every dough it kneads
in every bread it produces
seduces the young and old
Calling all bread lovers..
my attractive butter sugar buns
seductively smiling
waiting for you to grab
one, two, three...... and sold
In mommy's kitchen I bake
with love...........
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
The pattern keeps repeating most attractively,
but its the patterns in the pattern that shape our destiny.
I find comfort in forgetting that everything is nothing,
and all this beauty makes me happy just to say I am something.
Cloud my eyes, i’ll be alright.
Cloud my eyes, and i’ll be fine.
Why is everything that i’m feeling nothing of who i am?
Now all the love I'm needing is going up in smoke.
Is there nothing for this daily dying that's lived inside of me?
Can't you tell the only thing I’m feeling is "na na na-na-na"?
The pattern keeps repeating as far as i can see,
and there are patterns in the pattern quite recursively.
But, i find comfort in forgetting everything is nothing,
and all this beauty makes me happy just to say I am something.
Welcome to the world of the depressed,
where the lights and motion take interest.
Welcome to the hour of decay,
where the lights and motion take you away.
I don’t want to wake up from this dream.
Run away from reality.
Dying inside of my memory.
Story of a living casualty.
I think i might just sleep this off...
I think you should just write me off...
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 9:29 AM UTC
Minnows **** the throb out of my eyelids
where I jumped in the great pond and was filled with brine
each fleck, a pebble for them to slurp like soup.
I will remember this moment by the clothes I wore
take it out on yellow ruffles, navy strata
hung attractively on metal shelves but would faint if I were
to wear either once again. The accessories were similar.
Had a fish unbuttoned my blouse he would see
buttons where another female’s ******* would coarsen.
All I had meant to do was water a plant, feed the fish
but their container had grown wool:
I must dive in! It is better to drown than consult a quiet god.
Upon arrival, I realized that this was like entering
another species’ bloodstream. The waves sway your torso.
No wonder these blankets have become pink.
Behind is a freshwater sea, accustomed to the float but not
the dreaded sting. I have even drowned a few times:
I shall curse the flounder who resuscitates me at bottom.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
She was painted so attractively.
With flecks of deep red like the fire that burned in her heart.
Flowing auburn and burgundy hair she dyed to feel strong.
Specks of amber that seemed to shine around her body as she yearned to feel bright and happy again.
And a hazy but deep emerald painted in haphazard fashion which contained her jealousy because all she wanted was to be perfect.
Swirls of dark cyan and teal like the tears that dripped off her face.
And the lilac dashes were her moments of serenity where her hands created magic out of paper and pen and her mind was finally put to peace.
The fuchsia smeared across her lips, making her feel a little bit prettier.
Tad bits of maroon like the blood that was shed (figuratively).
She was a colorful girl behind the bland grey veil she hid under,
All to avoid the perils she received in black and white.
*Her life had every shade of color, but they couldn’t form a rainbow!*
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
~ for the poet Lorca (1)~
<>
we spoiled citizens of
our
United States
have little facetime,
nor hands on familiarity
with fascism
even less with global geography,
and that tiresome subject,
h i s t o r y
but it’s a disease
just like malaria,
that has never
been fully eradicated
(ya didn’t know?)
and yet,
malaria has a treatment,
a cure, even a vaccine,
as does
fascism
something muy valuable,
free for the taking,
but not freely necessarily,
freely given,
a commodity
with its own supply and
demand curve
it is
commonly known,
but not necessarily
commonly available at any pharmacy,
generically labeled
f r e e d o m!
this disease
is however
attractively packaged,
it is not embodied in an
ugly mosquito,
so many eager to embrace
its potential praises,
ignoring the deep sea
trenches of pitfalls
that encase it
for it has the elegance of
simplicity
the simplicity of
eloquence
whose glittering
is an attracting
disguise of deadly poison,
the infamous elixir of
a “cure-all”
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 8:28 AM UTC
DREAM
MATLOOB BOKHARI
In a dream, I am where meadows are in bloom,
Where days are full of spring flowers
Nights are packed with incense burning tables
Where gentle breeze exhales his sweet breath,
Where silky girls with long necks are dancing in arms
Where women ,brilliantly white with shinning skin,
Are weaving necklaces of narcissus flowers
Boys are wearing garlands of white violets
Tender girls, wearing royal and rich perfume
Are speaking honey-coloured words with sweet lips
All are happy, laughing and drinking
Singing , dancing ,embracing and kissing
Where enemies are killed not by bombs but kisses
Here, everyone speaks sweetly, laughs attractively
With shinning faces and joyous hearts
Karyn Walker Brother Matloob,
Love conquers all is what you honestly express,
in lines that deserve the best and nothing less.
Wishing you happiness sweetness and a pen
that continues to compose with vigor and zest!
Reaching always from the North,
south, east, and west!
Sending all my love,
― Karishmananda
Michele Vizzotti-White Heavenly, thats cool that the boys r wearing flowers. I love the laughs attractively line... people w/ unattractive laughs bother me a little more then they should ...well versed or should i say dreamed...
Connie Hofacker Hemmerich Senter You dream of peace, my dear friend...I too dream of peace. Beautiful poem, Matloob, thank you, for sharing. ...perhaps one day, our dreams will become reality. I pray it will be so, in our lifetimes.
Sandra Delussu where is this place, Matloob?...it's worth a visit, isn't it?
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Sometimes I observe something
I have or haven't seen before.
Strangely more than anything,
A desire to feel it can't be ignored.
Despite my lack of reasons
I won't keep my hands away;
The texture allures like warmer seasons
In time, on some other day.
The rough edges protrude
One hand caressing kindly.
Often it feels smooth,
My fingers running blindly.
Every once in a while
I'll feel a door, a wall, a pillar
To observe its physical style;
How a victim's studied by a killer.
But more often than not,
No destruction is in mind.
Just the feeling and a thought
In my brain, attractively kind.
Sometimes I wish I knew why
I can't ignore the object.
A reality check that I try
To touch the sky is my next project.
Uncertainty is what i've been dealt,
These questions make me reel.
If it's something that cannot be felt,
How do we know it's real?
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 2:08 PM UTC
No matter how many times you have proven me how unworthy I am
Still I fool my heart to believe we have a chance
I lean back in my bed and imagine how possible it is for me to just kiss you
how I could hold you in my small arms all day.
Just worship and adore you
Enchanted by your beauty,
My mind's firewall has collapsed,
My senses are frozen.
Now,
My feelings are numb
I fool myself to thinking it's all fine
My blind heart believed
My blind heart kept hoping
My blind heart held tight with hopes of never letting go
It hurts that you are with someone other than me
I can't give up this crush
I have tried,
Even with all the effort I put to forget you.
I just can't
I want to let you go
But I am obsessed with you
I crave for you love
I want you likeness
You've broken my defences
I consciously forget about you
But that is only temporal
It last only as long as I think of forgetting you
I can't blame you for looking Attractively Distracting.
I only blame
My blind her
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
DREAM
MATLOOB BOKHARI
In a dream, I am where meadows are in bloom,
Where days are full of spring flowers
Nights are packed with incense burning tables
Where gentle breeze exhales his sweet breath,
Where silky girls with long necks are dancing in arms
Where women ,brilliantly white with shinning skin,
Are weaving necklaces of narcissus flowers
Boys are wearing garlands of white violets
Tender girls, wearing royal and rich perfume
Are speaking honey-coloured words with sweet lips
All are happy, laughing and drinking
Singing , dancing ,embracing and kissing
Where enemies are killed not by bombs but kisses
Here, everyone speaks sweetly, laughs attractively
With shinning faces and joyous hearts
Karyn Walker Brother Matloob,
Love conquers all is what you honestly express,
in lines that deserve the best and nothing less.
Wishing you happiness sweetness and a pen
that continues to compose with vigor and zest!
Reaching always from the North,
south, east, and west!
Sending all my love,
― Karishmananda
Michele Vizzotti-White Heavenly, thats cool that the boys r wearing flowers. I love the laughs attractively line... people w/ unattractive laughs bother me a little more then they should ...well versed or should i say dreamed...
Connie Hofacker Hemmerich Senter You dream of peace, my dear friend...I too dream of peace. Beautiful poem, Matloob, thank you, for sharing. ...perhaps one day, our dreams will become reality. I pray it will be so, in our lifetimes.
Sandra Delussu where is this place, Matloob?...it's worth a visit, isn't it?
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
The Return of The Poet Freak
I've come back
this time with a yarn full
Let's end stupidity here and get ride of the barn fools
I sense the humidity here is that of a bar stool, intoxication is common, don't drink with the wrong tools
I've come with sharp words that crash like death from above
Yet create a flow equivalent to the flight of a dove
My might is of night an it's lust
my words are of fights in the dust
**** with me, and at night I will come
To terrorize then surprise with a rush
They say I have no access
All I need is your first name,
email or IP address
Your location can be found
habits can be studied
Once preparation is complete,
I will attack with no sound
unbounded pursuit, my well grounded efficiency is
complemented by proof
Gaze at my past history
words silently slaughtered in victory
My code of honor is made of dignity
My coat of armor is coated with words of potency
No witnesses needed, you can be apart of this 1st degree
****** I hope you scream ****** ****** Whenever you decide to breath
I've written to many ******* poems
I hope that you can see
These words are nothing but text reflected upon a screen..
These words are nothing but a message relayed upon a stream
Of constantly moving data that's scattered for all to see
My mental anomalies injected into the net via tech that is obsolete
Visual vacancies filled with verbal alliterations, attractively sound good
To current generation
Generation Text, Hexa-Decimal
Generation **** You #SuckMy Testicles
Generation I've learned code in middle school
but thats nothing it's just minuscule
I could spit a rhyme colder
then any individual
The eruption of my vocabularies volcano is visible
My concussions due to rhyming words over percussion are critical
These are my final words in the land that is digital
The poet freak is back, this time with words that are more cynical
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
She came at me,
notwithstanding
our chemistry
with a battering ram
to take down the man,
her shakedown in
my hometown
incredible?
attractively so,
but
I did fight you know
and I didn't exactly choose
to lose
but these things
are sent to try us.
She still comes at me
adding a touch of
insanity to the
spectacle by wearing
a ball gown,
in this town
anything goes.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
Picked
Washed
Displayed
Attractively
Packaged
Just for
Me
Placed
Sectioned
No
Staining
Other
Compartments
Just for
Me
Advertised
With
Words
Ending
ry and ly
Flown
Within
Hours
Just for
Me
Despite
My
Disbelief
I
May
Pray
With
Words
Ending
ry and ly
For you and not just for me
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 3:07 PM UTC
By: Brendan Cadman
A beam of royal gold breaks through,
the misty and hazy gates of grey.
Clearing to majestic blue skies,
a house basks in the warming ray.
Perched high above the quiet town,
atop a rolling hill of emerald green.
The looming structure casts a welcoming presence,
of dedicated craftsmanship so impeccably pristine.
Through lusting eyes the natives gaze,
and marvel in the homes' aesthetic glow.
Still for years a vacant slumber took,
place of the final dwelling long ago.
Myth and tale engulf the town with,
power equal to a fire captive in the wind.
None would dare to dance with fate,
or brave what presence might lurk within.
Floorboards creak under a phantom's footstep pace,
as silence fills the void of a dark and empty hall.
Cobwebs line the ceiling attractively impure,
as shadows roam the chambers quietly as pictures on the wall.
Continually as the current of a river flows,
so does the quest for a tenant our house will seek.
Toilsome the foreign inly journey can become,
how lucrative is the lenity of inner peace.
Like star-crossed voyagers lost out at sea,
with no course but to betoken of their plight.
Few are destined to a sempiternal fate,
kindred to a haunted house in the daylight.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC
Carrera scrawling his notes for the
‘War for Australis Incognita’ sat beneath
a lush fruit bearing tree; Bob’s plan for the boy
seeming to going be into effect despite Bob’s
abandoning his original plan for him.
Charlotte putting the boy in shorter skirts
and matching the light lavender fabric
with purple stockings and red garters.
The boy’s bustier barely held his
flat-chested frame and she had pulled the
laces straight and true tight around his
torso squeezing the breath out of him
to give him cleavage where none was
to be had. Pinning his longish hair
into pigtails, scrubbing his face clean
with an astringent cold cream and applying
powder to his smooth face over which
she painted rouge, eye-shadow and lipstick.
Seeing Carrera writing busily below
the glistening red arctic apples, Nancy
approached the distracted writer.
Carrera was lighting his ***** pipe
when the boy whom for all the world
resembled an attractively winsome female
came over and sat with him.
“Excuse me, sir, may I ask the greatest favor of you?”
Not recognizing the boy despite having
never seen a teenage girl on ship
Carrera hastily pocketed the smelly pipe
and turned his attention to the big blue
eyes before him. The lips were thin squiggly
lines that spoke is a whiny rasp
that was not entirely unappealing.
“Yes, my childe, what can I do for you?”
“I would certainly love to eat of the tree
growing above you but alas, I cannot reach
the sweetest fruit. Would you be so kind
as to hoist me up so that I may gather
a few you would perhaps share with me?”
“Why, of course, girly. Here, stand on my
shoulders,” said the poet kneeling to allow
the slim fellow to plant a hobnailed boot
onto his broad shoulder. Carrera couldn’t
resist raising his head once the boy
was up on both shoulder reaching for the
ripe apples of a new sort, the boy using
his petticoats like a basket to catch the
fruit he could swat from the low branches.
Carrera was staring straight up his petticoats
to the visible stocking tops and garters.
Carrera’s mind swimming with fantasies
of derring-do and adventures that he assiduously
avoided any first-hand knowledge of,
his gaze locked on the baggy breeched bottom
below the boy’s skirts, Carrera thought he’d
been struck by something like love at first sight.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 4:03 PM UTC
Heavenly Pyramids
Heavenly pyramids pointlessly
Point in the gradient Earth:
Piercing as though the fallen mess
Is to meaningless vane juxtapose.
Dust, elevating self, courageous
Seek those points to erase,
Shooting skies, jealousy’ callousness
Heaping in hoping to praise…
Jet-streams like breathing attractively
Follow the ambulant flows, –
Waters react retroactively,
Feeding the decadent growth.
Crusts elevating, of fire abode,
Trembling the pyramids-points,
Turn upside down the upper voids, –
Or just the ever-doomed pots…
Stairs must meet in the imminent
But indescribable place:
Solstice vernal while deeming, in
Serpents arrive on their mace.
Feathers are colorful – look and see –
Point between temples for that:
This is the meeting of Truth and Glee –
Where all pyramids met!..
Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
Paradice girl
Seductive, dainty, too sweet, sweetie, your skin color is the color of the deepest and highest passion and endless *** endless ****** the color of lust, you are so attractively attractive, and they pull your sweet lips to kiss. Every move of your gestures looks it excites and seduces it like a striptease.
Your appearance so much in love and excite until the ****** and eternal marriage. I feel a powerful love affair and *** addiction for you, you are the one that I will love and want forever. You are like sweet, hot, exciting female moans during hot, hot, insatiable *** in the pose of a rider, you are the cause of the eternal hunger of my libido. You are my true eternal love, my debauchery, you are my muse of *** and romance. I feel your powerful ****** energy of passion.
You are beautiful in any form, in any outfit. The love for you grows lives and develops and it cannot be controlled and stopped. Love and passion for you is unstoppable. You are so divinely beautiful without clothes as the pristine beauty of nature, you are a heavenly beauty, your adoration is lost from your paradice girl, and only bright emotions and feelings looking at the highest goddess, I bow to your beauty, your beauty is the rarest among all universes, time measurement, paradise where you are.
You're the girl whose photo aggressively masturbates a huge number of men, because your figure is more perfect than any top model, your external and internal beauty surpasses any beauty in this universe, your ideal appearance is absolutely envy. You are a powerful attraction excitement. You are hot, passionate, hot, ****
You are romantic and **** like a jazz composition of a saxophone, sounding outside the window, the light of a neon sign illuminates yours through a hot, **** hot, through a hype, a stimulating body.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
What are you?
attractively modified faces
On the souless corpse
Thriving for redempion
Whilst hatred runs through blood
There’s no place for you
In the deepest ocean
Nature knows what you do
How you destroy your own home
While singing the happy songs of conventions
When in reality plastic nations
are signing their own westphalian papers.
You play the games with the air you breathe
by selling carbon.
You cry for signed documents,
which do not change a thing.
You want to close your eyes
and destroy what took so many years to build.
And for what?
Tell me.
Tell your family.
Tell your planet.
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 4:24 PM UTC
Bipolar tendencies,
my colourful predicament,
the summer heat agitates mania,
the winter cold triggers sadness.
Bipolar tendencies,
both gift and curse,
to view the world soaring as an eagle,
to escape the world’s trampling feet as a cockroach.
Bipolar tendencies,
ignorant bliss and torturous wisdom,
apathy for the attractively wealthy,
empathy for the repulsively poor.
Bipolar tendencies,
both god fearing and atheist,
both the day and night,
both thankful and ungrateful.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC