Pagan Paul Aug 2016
Take a peek inside his poems
if you really want to know him.
He hides himself deep, immersed
a tiny piece in every verse.

Take a peek and take your time
savour the moment of every line.
Relish the thought of what lies there
and appreciate his soul laid bare.

© Pagan Paul (31/08/16)
.
Kenya83 16m
You tie me in knots
I’m cold then I’m hot
And the days pass so fast
Yet time stops
I dream of ideals
Day stills
The sun lasts forever
Till the moon takes its place
But we rewind and retrace
Fingers on skin
Vulnerabilities within
Here I know your scent
Your truth
Your taste
The lines of your face  
These desires are rare
So I lay myself bare
#vss365, bare
Raven Brewer Jun 2013
I stand before you naked and bare,
Vulnerable and scared
With trembling hands, and shaky breath
Because you gingerly stripped me
Of the armor I had long ago melded to my being.
You carefully untied the intricate knots
That had tangled my chaotic mind.
You skillfully unfastened the clasps,
Which held together my crippled heart.
You watched as my insecurities
Fell to the ground in a pile around my ankles.

I stand before you naked and bare
With trembling hands, and shaky breath
Because the impassioned stare your eyes posses
Pierces the façade that I had shrouded myself with.
The softness of your caressing lips
Comforts the exhaustion of fleeing love.
The heat of your searching hands
Melts the ice that encases my thoughts.
The pressure of your firm body
Pushes away the worries of acceptance.

I stand before you naked and bare
Because your love has set me free from myself.
zebra 6d
come sit on my words
dear reader
like outdoor furniture
for thin hips

while wheezing spooky poets under gaudy umbrellas
are nervous about making a good impression

all of your hosts
snuffed candles burning-out
for metaphors and alliterations

begging
one poem at a time
for a light
that we will never see

go ahead
antagonize me
you, who live in an idealized passed
fear the future
and ignore the present
while i hide like a little girl  
behind the bare legs of poetry

that will show you

my head is a lantern moon
that feels words like cosmic storms
tumbling stone heads
onto boulders of terracotta shards

my ink smells like stinky saliva
a dragging wet tongue of ambiguity
like a kabuki fight to the death
unwinding paper machete viscera
and plucking out make-believe hearts
while gobbling fortune cookies containing  
jokes, platitudes, and fortunes
that never come true
in a dreamland of masturbation's

i'm trying to break something in you!
Jeff Gaines Mar 27
The leaves …
dead,
have all turned brown.

Once …
green in the wind,
now scattered upon the ground.

The branches …
bare,
like cold aching bones.

They creak and whistle
in that wind …
lonely and alone.

The air …
silent,
all wings having fled for the sun.

Skies and forests once filled …
now empty.
Not a stir to be heard … not even one.

Snow …
barren
as a desert without life.

Water has become like stone,
as is a man
without a wife.

Monochrome vistas … everywhere you gaze.
Ethereal …
like this swirling mist that is my very breath.

Peaceful, stark beauty …
found only during Winter …
standing in stoic contempt … of all it's magnific death.
A bit of a cryptic/metaphorical piece.
It is about the things I've seen during winter.
But I've taken those elements and scenes and metaphorically turned them into elements of myself and my life ...
My accomplishments and experiences, my inner self, my friends and family, even my heart ... and how I can still be strong and even content as I enter this time ... still finding beauty in it all.
But, it is also about me facing the winter of my life.
I have a dream
That one day
A white man will say "nigger"
And a black man
Will take it as a compliment
Then
We will all finally be healed
From the disease of the past
If it could ever happen
I have a dream
That when people say "nigger"
It will mean
"Person who's ancestors built this Nation
Into greatness
With their bare hands
And sweat"
If i were to pay attention, id probably care to notice that some people don't like me because I am vocal about race, and how much I respect black people.  I'm not sure why it has to be an either or thing.  Pro black is not anti white. Most people know that, but some do not.
s Jul 2017
We suck each other's morning breath,
Undressed for dawn's untimely death.
My curtain of hair frames your face
  As I'm on top, naked and bare.

We pick up pace
as my breasts flip flop
stroking your flesh;
 a wet pink mess

The moans get louder
as you pound me harder,
and cup my butt for another smack,
aggressively pulling my mane back,
Till I find myself gasping in ecstasy -
clutching your body - hard & greasy
 And you repeat my name
in mid thrust enthusiasm
as we build to a climax
- the morning orgasm.

Then you shell over me
in a post coital embrace;
And wet my skin with kisses
while peeking at my face,
as we slowly retreat
to balmy cuddles,
Narrating patchy dreams
like unsolved puzzles.
Morning sex, love, cuddle, dreams, breath
Next page