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"bedazzled" poems
She is equipped with sensitive ******* and those other secret places that ladies give out as prizes to deserving guys as long as they adopt the right disguises of gods, gurus, intellectual giants, goats, children, father figures, macho brutes, sugar-daddies, supermen, seminal vessels, house-repairers, jar openers, jocks, hate objects, handy shoulders to cry on, emotional support systems, sensitive, intuitive, yet strong silent types who can also pay the bills, tall dark and handsome total strangers, toy boys, clowns, jugglers, jokers, millionaires, wood choppers, ******* removers, bottomless reservoirs of reassurance or just plain spunky studs when the moon is right. In fact, anything but woffly wimps. Oh God, no.  Anything but woffly wimps. Yes, but what about stoic, steadfast SNAGS, you know, the Sensitive New Age Guys who won’t face-shift for a **** Yes, well, let's try to sum all this up here right now. I think that the woman is dripping with a brimming reservoir of luscious and sensitive resources on tap for   the man who can figure out her cosmic kaleidoscope   of swirling dreams and desires, which is definitely not to say she can’t be totally independent. Although please don't be confused. Friendly boy-next-door types who are handsome, aren't too hairy, who like to laugh, who have a boyish braggadocio, who are students, who appear to be intellectuals, who are not nerds, and who can **** it in the kitchen, who  can be oh, so cool, who can convince a maiden that she is in distress, and is in need of rescuing, while he has a swaggering hard-on will do, too. Oooh. You devil. And if you think this poem is misogynist, misanthropic or myopic, well, I’ve been around and by now, well, I really should be panoptic because I’ve seen all the fads, and really, it’s sadly too bad about those poor old earnest SNAGS. But you know what? I don't think I understand anything, because I'm really a victim of worshiping women. I'm bedazzled and as blind as the next man, and yes, I'm just happy whenever I'm with them.
0
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
The Woman
She is equipped with sensitive ******* and those other secret places that ladies give out as prizes to deserving guys as long as they adopt the right disguises of gods, gurus, intellectual giants, goats, children, father figures, macho brutes, sugar-daddies, supermen, seminal vessels, house-repairers, jar openers, jocks, hate objects, handy shoulders to cry on, emotional support systems, sensitive, intuitive, yet strong silent types who can also pay the bills, tall dark and handsome total strangers, toy boys, clowns, jugglers, jokers, millionaires, wood choppers, ******* removers, bottomless reservoirs of reassurance or just plain spunky studs when the moon is right. In fact, anything but woffly wimps. Oh God, no.  Anything but woffly wimps. Yes, but what about stoic, steadfast SNAGS, you know, the Sensitive New Age Guys who won’t face-shift for a **** Yes, well, let's try to sum all this up here right now. I think that the woman is dripping with a brimming reservoir of luscious and sensitive resources on tap for   the man who can figure out her cosmic kaleidoscope   of swirling dreams and desires, which is definitely not to say she can’t be totally independent. Although please don't be confused. Friendly boy-next-door types who are handsome, aren't too hairy, who like to laugh, who have a boyish braggadocio, who are students, who appear to be intellectuals, who are not nerds, and who can **** it in the kitchen, who  can be oh, so cool, who can convince a maiden that she is in distress, and is in need of rescuing, while he has a swaggering hard-on will do, too. Oooh. You devil. And if you think this poem is misogynist, misanthropic or myopic, well, I’ve been around and by now, well, I really should be panoptic because I’ve seen all the fads, and really, it’s sadly too bad about those poor old earnest SNAGS. But you know what? I don't think I understand anything, because I'm really a victim of worshiping women. I'm bedazzled and as blind as the next man, and yes, I'm just happy whenever I'm with them.
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52
The shopping channel calls to me It wakes me up at night To sell me things I do not need Nor would buy, if I was right But apparently, there's something wrong My brain should be re-wired I only purchase things on here When I am really over-tired I have a room specifically For things bought on TV I've ginsu knives and shredding blades And juicers!!!...ninety three!! For some reason the kitchen things Just seem to catch my eye Especially at three a.m. That's the time I need to buy I've magic bullets by the score Processors,  I don't need But, if I ever put them all to use... An army I could feed I've got socks for diabetics Things to make your ******* stand out I've got exercise machines galore I've got three things that help gout! My credit card's at the limit I know the numbers off by heart The post man knows me by my name I even have my own **** cart To deliver all my purchases They just load it and deliver It almost comes here by itself It's enough to make one shiver I don't know how it started I think the countdown clock...ah, yes I thought it meant the game was ending I phoned in and bought a dress!!! I've got jewellery by Joan Rivers George Foreman grills...they fill my den I've got perfumes for the women And lots of things that make you men! My wife cannot contain me She's sent me off to get some aid But, if they sell it on the telly I'll buy it sure as getting laid I've bedazzled all my clothing I eat dried fruit and jerky too I get Christmas cards from Ronco I'm a shopping ****** through and through Each month we have a garage sale I sell off some of what I've bought But, then I go and buy it back again Without a second thought My friends have all but left me I rarely go out of the house I just sit here and go shopping I don't even see my spouse Set it and Forget it That's a phrase I love to say But wait, there's more...is another one That helps me through the day I used the last one on my wife One night while having *** She told me "Set it and Forget It" I'm off to dreamland Tex!! My shopping's an addiction One I hope to beat some day But now, the operator says... I have to get my card and pay!
0
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
Shopping addict
The shopping channel calls to me It wakes me up at night To sell me things I do not need Nor would buy, if I was right But apparently, there's something wrong My brain should be re-wired I only purchase things on here When I am really over-tired I have a room specifically For things bought on TV I've ginsu knives and shredding blades And juicers!!!...ninety three!! For some reason the kitchen things Just seem to catch my eye Especially at three a.m. That's the time I need to buy I've magic bullets by the score Processors,  I don't need But, if I ever put them all to use... An army I could feed I've got socks for diabetics Things to make your ******* stand out I've got exercise machines galore I've got three things that help gout! My credit card's at the limit I know the numbers off by heart The post man knows me by my name I even have my own **** cart To deliver all my purchases They just load it and deliver It almost comes here by itself It's enough to make one shiver I don't know how it started I think the countdown clock...ah, yes I thought it meant the game was ending I phoned in and bought a dress!!! I've got jewellery by Joan Rivers George Foreman grills...they fill my den I've got perfumes for the women And lots of things that make you men! My wife cannot contain me She's sent me off to get some aid But, if they sell it on the telly I'll buy it sure as getting laid I've bedazzled all my clothing I eat dried fruit and jerky too I get Christmas cards from Ronco I'm a shopping ****** through and through Each month we have a garage sale I sell off some of what I've bought But, then I go and buy it back again Without a second thought My friends have all but left me I rarely go out of the house I just sit here and go shopping I don't even see my spouse Set it and Forget it That's a phrase I love to say But wait, there's more...is another one That helps me through the day I used the last one on my wife One night while having *** She told me "Set it and Forget It" I'm off to dreamland Tex!! My shopping's an addiction One I hope to beat some day But now, the operator says... I have to get my card and pay!
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68
#*The Arabian Sea A sprightly sight to behold The cascading Sunbeams veil the sea in a platinum shimmer The gusty wind blows Sparkling diamonds roll up on the ocean waves The golden Sun unravels the beauty of the bejewelled Sea The picturesque Mumbai Skyline   Gloriously, rises up in the evening Sky The mellowed Sun ,beauteous as an orange Rose Leisurely dips down at the horizon The Sky cools down to Prussian blue The stars glimmer across the sky in the dim lights It's showtime Bedazzled I quietly sit and watch the magical scenes unfold*#
0
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 4:16 PM UTC
The Evening Sky and The Sea
two women a single Gemini of desire the yin the yang betwixt the known and unreachable swinging on wide arcs of extremis inhabiting opposite polar worlds and all the spaces in between intrepid sailors dare hope to explore T the outer R the inner T’s tiny name betrays a big robusto femininity bombastically womanly big ***** jazz ***** perfumed musky hips and **** that rock and those lips oh, those ruby red Norma Jean lips I’m puckered up begging her to paste a big rouge smooch on my eager lips press those bustling bosoms onto my face wrap those arms round me with a rasperous hug shake me with gyrations of your gracious shimmy thang you wow the bow out of this dog taking lovers prisoner with the coy blink of wide eyes flashing lashes batting brow boldly being a force of a mothers nature bearing and belting Bessie’s ***** blues to a howling crowd wanting more fully enthralled bedazzled enraptured with quixotic hypnotics I'm frozen solid hoping to melt into the heat of your inviting fire R bespeaks whispers from an inner place she lines the lost desires of a yearning heart she offers the softest curves the delicious touch the wet presence of a delicate tongue limpid fingers hide shy sly ******* offering invitations to hidden nests humming the incarnate dark forest secrets of bloomed lilacs and sweet carnations the voice of poems dance and flutter from her mouth as the lightest butterfly wings wayward onto soft hearts yearning seducement her kimono gently parts at the slightest suggestion of a rising breeze her songs invite lovers to pillowed chambers daring intrepid men to risk the death of desirous tempests I melt into the delicate complexity of your fleshy heat my dear celestial twins the lovely Gemini each different reduce me in differing ways to a puddle of rippling water reflecting the glorious elegance of wondrous ambrosial femininity Dedicated to T& R Music Selection: Barbra Streisand Pretty Women Oakland 4/26/12 jbm
0
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
Gemini
two women a single Gemini of desire the yin the yang betwixt the known and unreachable swinging on wide arcs of extremis inhabiting opposite polar worlds and all the spaces in between intrepid sailors dare hope to explore T the outer R the inner T’s tiny name betrays a big robusto femininity bombastically womanly big ***** jazz ***** perfumed musky hips and **** that rock and those lips oh, those ruby red Norma Jean lips I’m puckered up begging her to paste a big rouge smooch on my eager lips press those bustling bosoms onto my face wrap those arms round me with a rasperous hug shake me with gyrations of your gracious shimmy thang you wow the bow out of this dog taking lovers prisoner with the coy blink of wide eyes flashing lashes batting brow boldly being a force of a mothers nature bearing and belting Bessie’s ***** blues to a howling crowd wanting more fully enthralled bedazzled enraptured with quixotic hypnotics I'm frozen solid hoping to melt into the heat of your inviting fire R bespeaks whispers from an inner place she lines the lost desires of a yearning heart she offers the softest curves the delicious touch the wet presence of a delicate tongue limpid fingers hide shy sly ******* offering invitations to hidden nests humming the incarnate dark forest secrets of bloomed lilacs and sweet carnations the voice of poems dance and flutter from her mouth as the lightest butterfly wings wayward onto soft hearts yearning seducement her kimono gently parts at the slightest suggestion of a rising breeze her songs invite lovers to pillowed chambers daring intrepid men to risk the death of desirous tempests I melt into the delicate complexity of your fleshy heat my dear celestial twins the lovely Gemini each different reduce me in differing ways to a puddle of rippling water reflecting the glorious elegance of wondrous ambrosial femininity Dedicated to T& R Music Selection: Barbra Streisand Pretty Women Oakland 4/26/12 jbm
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189
*A vast blanket of darkness, the world at night Bombarded by the explosion of light Were you bedazzled by my kaleidoscopic luster? You were silenced with awe And your eyes manifest wonder My splendor of lights were formed from the shadows And in its depths I'll return Sadness and hurt made indigo Bliss and jubilance made yellow So light me up, ignite me be the flame to set me afire colliding thoughts had lifted me up This is my extravagant goodbye As the last glint of light flickers in the last seconds of my show as it falls slowly to be one with void i'd like to see one last smile aglow you're the spark that triggered me to combust i was once a firework show now one with dust*
0
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
Fireworks
Love for the kingdom of Joseon, Listening to the silent sounds from the past, Heartfelt love for Korea, Watching the melting snow, Dreams of love in a Korean spring, Ahh, my dreams of youth are gone, Love for pink cherry blossoms, Love for festivals, Love for hope, I keep asking myself, "Why? Oh, why did I wait so long?" Hope that the Korean people never lose hope Hope for the future of Joseon, Hope for the cherry blossoms, Hope for a clear spring, Hope for a united Korea, Hope for sunny festivals, Now, if I only knew how to open my eyes, To see; Beautiful spring festivals, Beautiful new hope, Beautiful memories of Joseon, Beautiful cherry blossoms, Beautiful happy spring, Beautiful Korea, Reality is a road leading nowhere, Dreams are a million guideposts that lead us on the path to our future, Bright shiny Korea, Colorful Festivals, Bright children are given the gift of hope, Seeing beautiful memories of Joseon, Bedazzled as if looking at a bright neon sign, Bright cherry blossoms, Bright and warm spring, Birds singing, I must be dreaming, New Korean spring, New path for Korea, New history for Joseon, Feeling the winds of change, New hope, New spring festivals, Newly planted cherry blossoms, Sunny cherry blossoms, Sunny spring, Sunny Korea, Sunny Festivals, Sunny hope, Sunny Joseon, Beautiful Joseon lovely Cherry Blossoms floating above us, Loving a bright Korean warm spring, Bright, colorful spring festivals holding hands falling in love, Now, if I only knew how to open my eyes... Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
0
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 5:38 AM UTC
Open My Eyes
Love for the kingdom of Joseon, Listening to the silent sounds from the past, Heartfelt love for Korea, Watching the melting snow, Dreams of love in a Korean spring, Ahh, my dreams of youth are gone, Love for pink cherry blossoms, Love for festivals, Love for hope, I keep asking myself, "Why? Oh, why did I wait so long?" Hope that the Korean people never lose hope Hope for the future of Joseon, Hope for the cherry blossoms, Hope for a clear spring, Hope for a united Korea, Hope for sunny festivals, Now, if I only knew how to open my eyes, To see; Beautiful spring festivals, Beautiful new hope, Beautiful memories of Joseon, Beautiful cherry blossoms, Beautiful happy spring, Beautiful Korea, Reality is a road leading nowhere, Dreams are a million guideposts that lead us on the path to our future, Bright shiny Korea, Colorful Festivals, Bright children are given the gift of hope, Seeing beautiful memories of Joseon, Bedazzled as if looking at a bright neon sign, Bright cherry blossoms, Bright and warm spring, Birds singing, I must be dreaming, New Korean spring, New path for Korea, New history for Joseon, Feeling the winds of change, New hope, New spring festivals, Newly planted cherry blossoms, Sunny cherry blossoms, Sunny spring, Sunny Korea, Sunny Festivals, Sunny hope, Sunny Joseon, Beautiful Joseon lovely Cherry Blossoms floating above us, Loving a bright Korean warm spring, Bright, colorful spring festivals holding hands falling in love, Now, if I only knew how to open my eyes... Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
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53
Like an alien in a spotlight With her magnifying glasses on My mother as she worked, up all night Did invisible weaving till dawn I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep Honing in on that hole in the suit Intently, her concentration deep Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute In other-worldly light she labored I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight Watching her focus never wavered Her face all aglow in the lamplight Invisible weaving, I inquired How tediously she plied her craft Worked for the money that she required Made the warp and weft of fabric last Reconstruction, undetectable No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight Weaving magic so incredible Its wound now perfect by morning’s light She taught me much that I’m still making From her life that now I’m grieving Sewing, crocheting and great baking But never invisible weaving The picture of her life that mattered I now see how she toiled so finely And that the wrinkles in the fabric Of my own life splayed out so blindly The vision of my eyes, bedazzled Incandescent, her face in the beam Unaware how her mind unraveled As Depression stole her ev’ry dream The threads of DNA defining Who I’ve become I’m now believing My mother’s hand in that designing Of my own Invisible Weaving* *In honor of my mother, Edla Sylvia Fitzpatrick, on this International Women's Day
0
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
Invisible Weaving
You’re pretty… he says for a dark-skinned girl I usually don’t talk to your kind. am I supposed to feel honor? you hopped of your pedestal, down to mine? I will not curve my lips into the half of the crescent moon that you’re expecting you do not deserve that. exclusion encumbers me and I am small in your eyes. Surely you can see that I am a dark girl, sweet berries ; color of night the same colors that allowed my ancestors to take flight. freeing them from ******* wounds that had them tied, without my hue, we would’ve died. I am a stone immortal, no work of erosion can seep through my cracks. the trials of my ancestors drawn on their backs. so our heads, we never hang down , we are to be found. scars to be hidden it is the gas in a run-away car, that last sip an alcoholic has as their arm and wrist lay dangling at the bar this is the prestige of my hue if I’m just pretty? then what could beauty possibly mean to you. a rare blend of history, struggle and strength. My head will not hang, not once more by noose or in self distress, I am history. No more do I long to sit at a table with you, in the wake of waiting for your admiration I have created my own table, in appreciation of your hesitation. To you my worth will always be in comparison to what’s missing that being pretty for a dark-skin girl, is a blessing. Worth far more than bedazzled insults , convinced I was worth less they could see it in my eyes, the way I dressed. The hue that I am is far greater than they told me accepting back handed accolades, that’s the old me. This house that holds my soul is only almost pretty… they say if I weren’t so dark I might be worth loving, caring wanting or staying. My color, a rustic espresso, no cream. you say I am pretty for a dark- skinned girl … no I’m pretty and that’s it! signed a FED UP dark skinned chick
0
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
dark-skinned chick
You’re pretty… he says for a dark-skinned girl I usually don’t talk to your kind. am I supposed to feel honor? you hopped of your pedestal, down to mine? I will not curve my lips into the half of the crescent moon that you’re expecting you do not deserve that. exclusion encumbers me and I am small in your eyes. Surely you can see that I am a dark girl, sweet berries ; color of night the same colors that allowed my ancestors to take flight. freeing them from ******* wounds that had them tied, without my hue, we would’ve died. I am a stone immortal, no work of erosion can seep through my cracks. the trials of my ancestors drawn on their backs. so our heads, we never hang down , we are to be found. scars to be hidden it is the gas in a run-away car, that last sip an alcoholic has as their arm and wrist lay dangling at the bar this is the prestige of my hue if I’m just pretty? then what could beauty possibly mean to you. a rare blend of history, struggle and strength. My head will not hang, not once more by noose or in self distress, I am history. No more do I long to sit at a table with you, in the wake of waiting for your admiration I have created my own table, in appreciation of your hesitation. To you my worth will always be in comparison to what’s missing that being pretty for a dark-skin girl, is a blessing. Worth far more than bedazzled insults , convinced I was worth less they could see it in my eyes, the way I dressed. The hue that I am is far greater than they told me accepting back handed accolades, that’s the old me. This house that holds my soul is only almost pretty… they say if I weren’t so dark I might be worth loving, caring wanting or staying. My color, a rustic espresso, no cream. you say I am pretty for a dark- skinned girl … no I’m pretty and that’s it! signed a FED UP dark skinned chick
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38
Even to an untrained eye One can spot layers of foundation Caked into her face Is she a victim Of some historical imperative? Is she caged In some arbitrary matrix? Some fun-house of mirrors While a mustachioed ringleader Overcharges, shouting “Come one, come all, bedazzled spectator Behold, the distorted woman Transmogrifying before your eyes!” Or maybe she’s just vain Or betwixt the two Somewhere, a boy drops a sixpence It rattles in the dusky jar As he enters the dark show
0
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 8:51 PM UTC
She wears too much makeup
That unforgiving metal. Within that unforgiving metal lies all the things you cannot forgive about yourself. Those freckles on your chin that you wish would expand into a constellation so that you may give them names and so that you may give them meaning, within that unforgiving metal. The Greeks threw their hands towards the heavens and deemed cosmic accidents worthy of the names of gods, although within them lie no gifts. Like a bedazzled and jaded Tiresias impostor one stumbles upon on their way home, who sees nothing but the tangible and tells all but the truth. Still, he is clad in diamonds and gold and thus has value in trade. Beauty triumphs over mendacity and mendacity over reality. But the freckles that mar your skin, that you cannot transfigure into the most meaningless of stars or the crudest of answers, sit there defiantly, waiting to be acknowledged and waiting to be named. You lean your forehead forward to rest against the cool smoothness of its idle twin. You could swear you saw her sneer at you. The freckles do not budge—they will consume you whole.
0
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 6:41 PM UTC
A Cliché Metaphor About Freckles and Stars
If you give me long enough I could paint a vivid portrait of myself with every blemish and pore behind a brush, and hush the voices that would criticize unsubscribe and dance it up over in wonderland with the sycophants put on my bedazzled pants let the local singles know I'm a dancer just a beating heart away From being another square upon a lattice a writhing mass of hair gel and cologne working up the ladder to fuckboi status Imma walk the line between a marble arch eclipsing the sun over an angel statue kneeling in prayer and a black leather boot clad bad *** with bad habits but he's so cool he doesn't care Look at him go all on his own with only a thousand or so, little paintings   that are equally as photo shopped or filtered just floating around waiting to see the show and letting other people know they liked it or not What a spectacle destined to leave us senseless and restless what a test of the patience to be a slave to the masses to see my juxtaposition against the rest of the best of us and think "I should go with clever with glasses." What a brutal twist of civilized life to have an AI made for driving my car so I can shimmy down and sneak another **** pic THROUGH SPACE, to some guy who works at taco bell's wife Laura something or something I'm so social What a medium, Exchanging ideas, and hunting body heat from out of the ether, to have the pleasing distortion of the speakers drowning out all the wearisome noise of our contortions "You gotta learn to love yourself" She says, and posts another photo buried somewhere under 60 layers of dog noses and rainbows, and angel wings Oh **** this isn't boyfriend material let me change some things - You don't ever need to change girl, there ain't anything, in this world That I wouldn't do, to be with you. And the Brief exchanges we had, didn't reveal any red flags, that I am willing to skip on *** over. So somewhere down the line, when the filters start to fade, we'll just kick that can down the road, and neither of us will change. And the picture's that we painted of our Love will degrade.
0
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
Social Romance
If you give me long enough I could paint a vivid portrait of myself with every blemish and pore behind a brush, and hush the voices that would criticize unsubscribe and dance it up over in wonderland with the sycophants put on my bedazzled pants let the local singles know I'm a dancer just a beating heart away From being another square upon a lattice a writhing mass of hair gel and cologne working up the ladder to fuckboi status Imma walk the line between a marble arch eclipsing the sun over an angel statue kneeling in prayer and a black leather boot clad bad *** with bad habits but he's so cool he doesn't care Look at him go all on his own with only a thousand or so, little paintings   that are equally as photo shopped or filtered just floating around waiting to see the show and letting other people know they liked it or not What a spectacle destined to leave us senseless and restless what a test of the patience to be a slave to the masses to see my juxtaposition against the rest of the best of us and think "I should go with clever with glasses." What a brutal twist of civilized life to have an AI made for driving my car so I can shimmy down and sneak another **** pic THROUGH SPACE, to some guy who works at taco bell's wife Laura something or something I'm so social What a medium, Exchanging ideas, and hunting body heat from out of the ether, to have the pleasing distortion of the speakers drowning out all the wearisome noise of our contortions "You gotta learn to love yourself" She says, and posts another photo buried somewhere under 60 layers of dog noses and rainbows, and angel wings Oh **** this isn't boyfriend material let me change some things - You don't ever need to change girl, there ain't anything, in this world That I wouldn't do, to be with you. And the Brief exchanges we had, didn't reveal any red flags, that I am willing to skip on *** over. So somewhere down the line, when the filters start to fade, we'll just kick that can down the road, and neither of us will change. And the picture's that we painted of our Love will degrade.
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60
[*I can only survive my life in two ways; wasted by the fire of my gratification,
 wasted by the fire of my longing.*] Love had just woven my
 intolerable shirt of flame, this 
bedazzled blouse betwixt 
 an area brimming with smoke 
and my own heart.

 this consuming flame...
 the flame that fuels itself with 
my everything. 

I am a sorceress at the stake. 
I feel the fire sear into my skin, 
destroying the weak, frail covering 
to my body, 
disseminating to parts 
I didn’t know existed. 

The torment is utterly consuming. 

Everything within me, every ounce of strength that remains, struggles to 
shed this shirt of flame. 
[This devised torment 
by love Herself.]
 Yet, the blazing fire
 is frantic for my body.
 The flames 
cling to me, fast to my skin, 
like you have
 ...and do
 ...and will. 
We suspire the smoke from the flames which destroy all that surrounds us;
 it becomes a part of us that 
our bodies will never be able to discern... to notice... 
to erase.
0
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
By Either Fire or Fire
I've been burnt so many times, and hurt with so many lies. The path that I walk tells a tale of so many crimes. And the scars in my heart hold memories of darker times. Stupid, I was! I lived like a cat with nine lives. Ignorant I stayed! A fool who accepted numerous lies. Bedazzled by their smiles, who knew they were but deceitful wiles. And for long I remained, a captive of worthless slimes. For all the tears I shed and all the feelings I spared, I couldn't help but wonder if anyone ever cared. As a tool for their filthy cause, I wondered if this was a result of an unknown curse. For neither was I pure of heart or saintly in character. This could be the reason for my life's disaster.
0
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
Reflection
I feel your beads pressed against my neck 106 prayers lifted 106 left in the ***** laundry a coconut scent a play on words and your face buried into mine even at midnight the union tracks flick and I stand bedazzled by the lightning shade you offer a moth to flame a boat to ocean a joyous pain cut up cut up cut up but I wouldn’t leave my blood behind for anything
0
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
Untitled
There was a Young Lady of Dorking, Who bought a large bonnet for walking; But its colour and size, So bedazzled her eyes, That she very soon went back to Dorking.
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2.8k
There Was A Young Lady Of Dorking
A head A giant boney mass Many mouths and eyes            thoroughly babbling,            whatever,            etc. Snapping and blinking Mouths Melded together on this ultra cranium Yapping on and on On and on and on Yellowed teeth and bedazzled grills Botnet mods and crop tools The most dastardly of all - An infinite production of fuzzy, Buzzing noise blobs. And Attempts to add me To its mass connection-collection head Leave me offended. "What's on your mind?" Go away. You ******* freakazoid.
0
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 3:26 PM UTC
Koobface
Like an alien in a spotlight With her magnifying glasses on My mother as she worked, up all night Did invisible weaving till dawn I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep Honing in on that hole in the suit Intently, her concentration deep Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute In other-worldly light she labored I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight Watching her focus never wavered Her face all aglow in the lamplight Invisible weaving, I inquired How tediously she plied her craft Worked for the money that she required Made the warp and weft of fabric last Reconstruction, undetectable No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight Weaving magic so incredible Its wound now perfect by morning’s light She taught me much that I'm still making From her life that now I'm grieving Sewing, crocheting and great baking But never invisible weaving The picture of her life that mattered I now see how she toiled so finely And that the wrinkles in the fabric Of my own life splayed out so blindly The vision of my eyes bedazzled Incandescent, her face in the beam Unaware how her mind unraveled As depression stole her ev'ry dream The threads of DNA defining Who I’ve become I'm now believing My mother’s hand in that designing Of my own Invisible Weaving
0
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Invisible Weaving
Apparently she was a mermaid; there wedding was to be a plastic Malibu affair. Her dress, a bedazzled, gaudy sarong with leis for a train, and coral bits for the rings… She said she was addicted to pearls, – ate them like candy, until about a year ago when they plucked her from the ocean, and gave her pills instead. “Entertain her for a bit,” the other nurse said. So I picked up the Ken doll, and let Barbie buy another pet dolphin.
0
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
Pearls
Oh my word, I remember every little part of that weekend, right down to the three-piece outfit I had purchased at Bloomingdale's the evening previous. You know, ya hear stories left and right about people winning tickets to this n' that, but ya never imagine actually being the nineteenth caller! When I revealed the occasion this baby blue ensemble would be worn in, the cute little saleslady paused, looked up, and said, "Why bother seeing him anymore?" And I tell ya, there's plenty other, less Christian yearly Graceland attendants who woulda flipped their lids had they heard such malarkey! Still, I just couldn't deny it. She had a bit of a point. This was mid-70s Elvis, mid-50s Elvis' drunk uncle. He had gone from Rolling Stone to National Enquirer in nothing flat, it seemed. So all I could muster was an understanding smile, because she couldn't help but join the bandwagon, especially when his gut got larger and the rumors became more outrageous. Still, their loss! I say that to this day, because what Little Miss Shopgirl and the legions of non-believers did not think to consider was the charm in "has been" Elvis. A week before this legendary concert experience, I had been forced by circumstance to purchase my very first pair of bifocals! It was also around the time, I'm sure, Harry left me. So, the main event, I'm there, third row from the main stage, seeing Elvis for the first time since our crazed youthful years- a bedazzled jumpsuit walks on stage, and I'm on my feet before I know it! There was a little less swivel in his hips. He looked a little tired, too, all those years of singing do that. How did it feel, then, to see the King make his way across a cheap fog machine, mutton chops and love handles galore? It felt like two lifelong friends growing old, losing all those frivolous people together- "Are You Lonesome Tonight" was still asked with the same dreamy passion in 1973. I've still got the handkerchief he threw to me that night, **** near lost it when I caught the thing. It's blue with polka dots, ya wanna take a gander?
0
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 5:21 AM UTC
Aunt Susan Recalls the Day of Elvis' Vegas Show
Oh my word, I remember every little part of that weekend, right down to the three-piece outfit I had purchased at Bloomingdale's the evening previous. You know, ya hear stories left and right about people winning tickets to this n' that, but ya never imagine actually being the nineteenth caller! When I revealed the occasion this baby blue ensemble would be worn in, the cute little saleslady paused, looked up, and said, "Why bother seeing him anymore?" And I tell ya, there's plenty other, less Christian yearly Graceland attendants who woulda flipped their lids had they heard such malarkey! Still, I just couldn't deny it. She had a bit of a point. This was mid-70s Elvis, mid-50s Elvis' drunk uncle. He had gone from Rolling Stone to National Enquirer in nothing flat, it seemed. So all I could muster was an understanding smile, because she couldn't help but join the bandwagon, especially when his gut got larger and the rumors became more outrageous. Still, their loss! I say that to this day, because what Little Miss Shopgirl and the legions of non-believers did not think to consider was the charm in "has been" Elvis. A week before this legendary concert experience, I had been forced by circumstance to purchase my very first pair of bifocals! It was also around the time, I'm sure, Harry left me. So, the main event, I'm there, third row from the main stage, seeing Elvis for the first time since our crazed youthful years- a bedazzled jumpsuit walks on stage, and I'm on my feet before I know it! There was a little less swivel in his hips. He looked a little tired, too, all those years of singing do that. How did it feel, then, to see the King make his way across a cheap fog machine, mutton chops and love handles galore? It felt like two lifelong friends growing old, losing all those frivolous people together- "Are You Lonesome Tonight" was still asked with the same dreamy passion in 1973. I've still got the handkerchief he threw to me that night, **** near lost it when I caught the thing. It's blue with polka dots, ya wanna take a gander?
Continue reading...
70
A hot toddy…a hot bath Is the way she drew me home To the steamy waters of love All covered with foam My Nymph of Nysa in white garments as tight as skin Revealed piercing and protruding ******* within With these bedazzled ******* all a glow She led me to her fountains below “Lay in my waters so I may bestow Oil to your muscles from crown to toe” Though weary from tumultuous day Healing hands restored strength vigor to play “Are you able Captain to fill my folds So I may howl like the Sirens of old?” Rising like Poseidon out of the surf I placed her on my four columned berth Opening wide her ivory legs she called for my girth “Come, My Captain unload your treasures and bring forth great mirth” A hot toddy…a hot bath Is the way she drew me home To the steamy waters of love All covered with foam
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
*** A Hot Toddy...A Hot Bath
the trace of you is still sensed faint but there; when I arise in a daze, dizzy, bedazzled, hazy, from pleasant dreams the thoughts of you evade my mind in the glory of dusk and dawn to evoke, certain emotions that I never thought could exist talk, pause, think speak, laugh, blink cradling myself by building a nest of memories I pick from my mind pluvious weather, the pitter patter, the knits on the sweater, reminds me of you but what trail of constellation does not remind me of a star, that is you?
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Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
pluvious
I strut with confidence alongside her; she "fails" to acknowledge me I try to attain her attention with my friends; she continues to ignore us three? We decide of something else. We chose to go up to her and join her party Whilst remained fixed on her dress which was Sacramento and sparkly Bedazzled from her dress it seemed I was in the dreamworld I had somehow dreamed that she approached with a kiss and swirled. "Time to do it"I had repeated to myself. I grabbed her hand. I twirled her like a figure skater. Finally,I found out she or he was a transgender, so...later?
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
An opportunity
The night is breathing apartment aroma and the drunks are tumbling d o w n w a r d through marina side alleys where the Jamaican trumpeter sharpens the brickwork with clamor brass rifle bullet sounds. I get my depression half price at the supermarket, that man made melancholia/ dehydrating all senses/ gunpowder to a broken barrel. Sleepless for that distant girl explosive! She's moving to the big city, yeah there she goes! To live in a place where many go to die. Mango the sky and ashclouds- autumnal daisy/ center sunshine/ opalescent ecstasy reminding one of Indonesia and Darjeeling balcony evening on the cubist block on Kuta on dreams and nightmares simultaneous (THE PARANOIA OF PARASITES) wet air vapor rain February pain in the July bone! Celebration VOICENOISE passing phantom thru paisley sheet corridor. Life is strange.. the strangeness of days receding via the mattress to time and memories and remembering the happenings of ceremonies this year past year CAVALCADE! SPECTACULAR STARLIGHT! OVERVIEW THE FIELD OF TENTS AND LOVERS! Life is an unrecognizable chameleon T R A N S M U T E to some other color iridescent (Where do I go? where do I go?) Say by December the name of my Valentine by boardwalk boreal and I recall the current Summersun pearl/red beautiful and beating (BEDAZZLED LIKE THE HEART)
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
Parade
the words fluttered, swung, swept, swooshed, bemoaned, bereaved, bedazzled, leapt, lauded, littered, hovered, heckled, hiccuped, made U-turns, took deep dips, underwent saucy somersaults, played like notes, acted like songs, usurped as oaths, humbled as prayers, slaughtered as killers, punctuated, presided, presumed, abetted, adhered, attacked while the paper endured all with love.
0
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
ink tales
The arc of Hyperion's bedazzled sceptre Issues forth a cascade of petals Rose deep Laying the path for sweet heavenly Aurora Chary± Divinity moving in a soft tip & creep ... Until at last Her eye peers out o'er Terra A shied face hidden 'hind the crest no longer. For in her glance abides a treasure No hallowed hall may contain: Upon the Mount, within the Spring, Roots of the Tree doth regain! Fruits resurf, o' Golden Bough undulating Seeped in kin vital, up the amber vein: 'Ere burgeoned wings do stretch & sing Rising into Joy's boundless domain! E'er again, again after! Yea, be heedless to all fright Nay, but to a solitary care: Gallope free, alight & kiss the silvery aer Yet if ye be trapp'd in night, & gaze morose in despair: Thou pleasen only might; -- Pray, cease thine irradiant stare! ±Chary: careful about what is revealed; circumspect.
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Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
Ode To Reverence