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Sahil Suri Mar 2014
Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-

But I do  know how to tell a true love story -

Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,

True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -

In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.

and that’s what makes them “true.”

But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-

Love, is a constant state of illusionment-

A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be,  can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-  

A quid pro quo  between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-

Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-

Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-

Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-

So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -

A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe

So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-

I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”

I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of  utter normalcy

I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-

I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.

Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.





..And that is my true love story-
Edit: Thank you everyone. It has meant a lot.
Tommy Johnson Apr 2014
Hurt me
Whips and blindfolds
Submission
Boarded up bedrooms
Leather
Fetishes
Being satisfied
Hard bulbous *** toys
Using flavored lubricants
Deep scratches
Red marks
Bruises
Rope burn
Pulling
Smacking
Biting
Smothering
Sitting
Licking
Pleasure
Priya Patel Mar 2022
I think, sometimes,
I walk through life
with blindfolds on
I lean towards the dark
and ignore the light
that in my mind is already gone
I see only what I want to see
and blindly ignore
what is right in front of me;
forever walking through life
with these blindfolds on
How inhibiting this has been
I have always believed
that I was broken, but the truth is
that I am forever healing
and I'm ok with that feeling
because I'm tired of
seeing through these blindfolds
Today, I tried to stop worrying
about everyone around me
I tried living in the moment
and what a glorious sight to see,
like my son smiling so bright
I could see the light in his eyes
and the happiness in my dads face
when I met him at his favorite place
and we spent an hour
reminiscing about our yesterday's
All this I saw today
It's definately time I think,
to throw these blindfolds away

~ Priya Patel 🕉,  March 4, 22
Kimberley Leiser Mar 2019
For Aimee's birthday the plan was to get her first tattoo. She was a blond hair lady with a wide bust, huge hips and big *****. Her ***** were one of her best assets she loved to see her body as her canvas her  piece of art; she got her  mind set on getting a rose and heart near her ***** and chest.

She went online booked an appointment in the nearest tattoo parlour to book her consultation to meet the tattoo artist who will be working on this project with her and this was where she met MR Pain.

MR Pain was an  average built man with some muscle tone on his legs and arms. He had tattoo's covering every flex of his body. He wasn't much of the talker in the first meeting more of a quiet and down to earth man. He asked

“ Okay what part of your body would you want the tattoo?”  

“She shyly said “my *****”

His eyes gleamed started to fixate on them as he chuckle

“ well that can be arranged”
I hope you have you brought a design or a piece of artwork with you so I can see a visual design of what you what to have done on your skin”

she took out the picture, he attentively looked at it for half hour and said

“heart and a rose…
this…
could take a few sessions…  
depends on how much detail you want in your design”

He randomly blurted out

“Mmm… I love your *****”.

“More to the point – serious question would you to be able to take on pain? think about it first.

I could show you want you be facing up to with an early demonstration just sign the contract it'll be my treat for your 18th birthday do you fancy hooking up for a drink at my place”

Aimee couldn't see much in the contract the print was tiny; she felt his warm gaze and grin darting around her as she tried to make out what it was saying. His eyes hypnotic and calculating

“Do we have a deal!”

Aimee smiled and nodded she signed her name and said
“can see no wrong in that” its only a drink”

Mr Pain with rasping voice replied

“Excellent!”

Aimee shyly said “should I bring anything with me?”

Mr Pain shrugged

“Nah, I got plenty of drink”
everything we need is here at my place,
don't worry bring yourself
will order a taxi my treat”.

As soon as Aimee got home she had  a bath in honey and milk bath oil. Her ***** were like two huge sunken peaches glazed out in the sun. She got out of her bath robe and placed a long black dress and heels with pink lipstick.  All ready for the evening, she entered the taxi the driver was glaring at her  through the mirror

“You look nice!
“where you going to?”
Aimee gave him the slit of paper with Mr Pain's home address:

the cab driver looked horrified
he silently started to mutter to himself

“that place”,
“another victim;
she’s the third woman this week  
I would be careful with MR Pain,
“I have heard many stories”

Aimee shrugged

“Are you sure?
Can't be the same man
I know ”

Taxi driver shook his head.

“For **** sake
another dippy girl,
what's the world coming to
this is why I hate my job”

He opened up the cab door. Aimee stepped out the taxi

“Thanks for the tip.
Have a good evening.
be careful hunny”  

III MR Pain's Headquarters

Mr pain was waiting outside in the garden.  Dressed head to toe black. His grin slightly twisted and eyes gleaming in the sunlight.  

“Good of you to make it.
Aimee looking beautiful,
make yourself  comfortable.
I will be back with you shortly
I'm with another client.

Aimee waited in the living room for mr pain she could hear random screams and sound of crashing whips from downstairs wailing sounds of another lady
crying out
“ yes master will do what you want”

Aimee was  shaken up by the noise but turned on by the intensity of it all. She laid on the sofa and circled around her ******* with her fingers while doing this she was unaware mr pain was watching her through the CCTV camera. His voice loud and commanding

“I take it your ready for the demonstration”

Aimee stopped what was she was doing
feeling startled by his voice and stammering

“Yes- I - am”  

“Excellent – it may surprise you,
put the blindfold on it is on the table
there will be someone that will
take you through to the main room”

Aimee was feeling anxious and shaken now there were so many things going through her mind

what was the demonstration about ?
Why was there whips and screams?
why was the taxi driver talking
about girls being victims  

“I feel tired mr pain
wish to go home”

“Nonsense you got here,
your not going anywhere
you'll love it”

The figure placed the blindfold over her eyes; led her through a dark tunnel. The room was a cold and damp there were two other girls  with blindfolds being chained and whipped to the wall. Their skin looked as if they had at least 2 lashings a day from the whip there were bite marks and bruises around their body pleasure apparently was substituted equally with the pain. Mr pain got his whip ready; Aimee could not believe what she was seeing around her.  

“Your a fraud, your no tattoo artist
your a *******
a dangerous man
I knew I should have listened
to the taxi driver”

Mr pain voice raspy but more commanding now

“Yes you should have your going no where until my little demonstration is complete
then you can go free ”

He took out the gag from his pocket and placed it on her mouth so she could not speak, grabbed out the  whip and gave her a lashing; followed by gnawing on her ******* and chest;

“You feel what pain is"

He laid her on the table restrained her arms and legs she can not move and fight his advances. He licked her *******; making his way to her ***** licking up and down then in circular movements while Aimee was moaning she started to ***; he then took out what looked to be a huge ***** from the cupboard; pushing it into her ***** her eyes rolled to the side she started to squirm, she didn't know whether to squeal or scream  as pleasure and pain were intensified and felt equal in measure. His **** grew in size with now a huge  hunger in his eyes he pushed his **** further into her making her legs weak and squeal he could feel her heat up and ****** all over the table: he then rolled her to the side and pushed his **** into her *** pushing it all the way in he could now hear her muffled squeals as he fill her up with his ***.

“Demonstration is over; your free to go: taxi will pick you up, its up to you if you return for more but if you say anything about this; I will find you and you'll be back here and will belong to me”  

Aimee quickly put her dress on her. Looking shaken and tired, bruises and marks on her sweat and *** on her too she went straight for the cab. The driver took pity on her and didn't charge her  for the ride.  It was all a distant black memory she didn't say a thing. it was all a blur, a dark secret she was worried about the other girls; did they escape in the end from the crutches of mr pain or did they chose to stay there with him: she was just happy to escape and be free.
Never do you see my face
Secured from movement
Just feel my fingers touch
Tracing over your body
Then my kisses on skin

Just a brief moment away
Before ice cubes tease you
In places never before touched
Begging me to ravish you
But you know you're at my mercy

Feeling the handcuffs opened
You're free to reach out
But I whisper for you to wait
And when your eyes are free
They search for me, I am gone
Copyright 2015
Pea Jun 2016
xvi. where do you go when your house isn't home?

i ******* crawl out of my body, swim infinite miles of the ocean, stretch my neck to the skies, replace my head with the moon. i ******* yearn for your presence, try to break the mirror with my weak stare, can't go further, fitting room doesn't fit whatsoever, all the buttons escape from my ***** and hair falls like tiny dandelions in a rainstorm.
i grow potatoes in my mouth, when i speak i smell of my root, when i am on my period i talk about stomachache at dinner table, when i search for space my tummy is the balloons at pingkan's 8th birthday party which i couldn't bring home. blow the candles i forgot to make a wish for a moment the fate seems seamless, bright red lipstick, brown mascara, outfits i can't ever wear to school, or to be honest, not anywhere because when i try to walk, every step is a ******* hysterical cry, when i use my toes every cell in my body violently shakes.
my house isn't home. my house isn't home. my house isn't home. my house isn't home. my house isn't home how do you know that? how did you barge into my clichés? how dare you claim something that even i won't bring myself to think about?
i ******* crawl out of my body, not as soon as possible, i do it right now, right ******* now so i know the years i've spent trying to nourish the flesh i don't really own are worthless, the years i've devoted myself to my worldly lover are the ones that have been consuming my tiny soul, if you ask me now of course no one is satisfied, no one is satisfied until i don't want to call you mine anymore.
i ******* crawl out of my body.
in a desperate attempt to make the hideous pleasing to watch, i sell blindfolds on the street, i light the matches in the rain, i dream of dead grandmother and christmas feast. i turn into a cold statue, i left the tenderness for stupid microorganisms, my divorced bones blame me for everything i did not do. i used to do the right things now i just do nothing, it's ******* useless anyway, i can blink five thousand times and still believe that time is what the clocks and calendars say. (my grandmother was a buddhist.)
i ******* crawl out of my body. i don't want to experience this anymore, i am not into this kind of thing, i long for your presence, all i've got from this building is an infinite count of absences. my body is a building, it has no level, no room, no door, no window, no furniture. my body a giant concrete boring box, i do not even live there anymore, nobody lives there anymore, they are all gone to a poppy field in the middle of nowhere (actually somewhere, only that i am not invited). i ******* crawl out of my body, did that answer your question?
i ******* crawl. out. of. it.
with all due respect, please just kindly shut the **** up
Shaun Meehan Jan 2015
men espousing creation,
the creator,
perfect love infinite mercy
a proclamation—vowing to
adhere to the likeness
in which they were fashioned.
so much faith–so much
cruelty.
creatures wearing blindfolds of scripture
justify deeds so appalling in nature,
contradict the wisdom they
promised to preach;
hypocrisy absent its recognizing.

affirming a dusty word’s preserve,
the honesty,
only the deceit of men do they serve,
failing in discerning
the message of spirit secured
in the hearts of those who seek knowing—
impervious to them who
hound to be dominating.

perpetual fear taught by
people with piety painted inner sight shutters,
their words—
plumes of smoke to obscure their own
heart’s flutter.
a terror of
free thought and consideration,
freedom from labels, dogma and doctrine—
the circumvention
of thumbs meant to pin men
to the curse of subjection.

the deduction of right,
appearing an impossible task amidst
an endless sea of polluted virtue.
by the exam of everything so diligent,
the multitudes of faith and
them gripping absence,
might symbiosis prove true—a
mosaic of liquefaction's perfection
in a world where everything is permissible
but not everything beneficial.
The premise for this work felt good in its early stages but its development became a struggle not long after. I'm not really a fan of this piece, but have invested an amount of time into it that would see me rather share it than just toss it on the no-go stack. I'm really glad that I can finally turn the page on this one and a little proud that I stuck it out and finished it as opposed to just abandoning it altogether.
Styles May 2014
So, along comes Love, who brings Passion, and Desire. Love ends up tying me up, Passion blindfolds me, while Desire takes control. Now we are ready to role. These ladies forced my hand, no plans to console. Love keeps touching my heart, has a strong hold. Passion is a work of art; touches my soul. While Desire has her *** up, legs are spread apart; trying to take control.  Love keeps on tempting me, such a tease. Passion keeps begging pretty "please", while she's on her knees. Desire won't listen, But she's dying to be pleased. They blowing my mind; I'm not talking a breeze. Loves so distracting, to busy multitasking. Passions is upset, didn't like my reactions. Desire is still her, looking for some action. Love, left with Forgiveness, and Passion left with the Compassion. Desire left  me for much stronger attractions. It doesn't matter, all three, were just distractions. Rather post it on Hello Poetry, probably get better reactions!
astro eyes Oct 2017
You are the sun to me,
you are the air I breathe,
you are the one I meet,
I find you in my dreams.

I am the moon to you,
I am the colours and hues,
I am the one who's true,
You see us as a breakthrough.

You are the past,
The magic I cast,
The one who'll last,
Our world so vast.

I am the now,
The wolf who howls,
I pledge, I vow.
I bend, you allow.

We break the mould,
Don't do as we're told,
We merge and fold,
Untie our blindfolds.
I have no idea what being in love is like, as the woman I am today.
I experienced it when I was 17. That was 10 years ago. I am fascinated by love - and crave it so.
SomeOneElse Dec 2020
I wanna have ***
I want to make love
I want to be desired
Like a fire is to oxygen
I want someone to want me so badly they can't keep their hands off me
I want to have ***
all night long or til we pass out and then **** some more
I want to **** like there's no tomorrow and our lives depended on it.
I want to taste ***** and feel a woman's thighs wrapping face like a vice grip
I want to kiss and lick her *** and get lost in the moment
I want her to lick and **** me like I was a 3 star michillan resteraunt and she hadn't eaten for days
I want to make love
I want to lay on the couch cuddling in front the tv
Or laying on the bed spooning the whole day away
I want to look into a woman's eyes and see the love and and passion waiting to pounce on me.
I want to have ***
I want to ****
At the park at night or in my car late at night
I want to **** on a hike off the trail where no one can see (but might)
Or some public bathroom where we might get caught.
I want to have ***
I want to use toys, rope and blindfolds, candles and wax
To get as ***** as the moment takes us as we explore our bodies and sexuality
I want to have ***
Something I wrote to express the frustration forced celebacy and lack of dating has had. Maybe some of you can relate, maybe not but this was something I needed to write
Kaitlyn Jun 2018
(an ekphrastic poem based on the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper)

Four
solemn faces,
doused in gold,
like moths to flame,
seek warmth from the cold.
Darkness leers, but harsh light shields
these lonely creatures from their feelings untold.

One
diner desolate,
a waiter old,
and three weary visitors
are portrayed. The scene unfolds.
Most eat under the sunlight, unlike
these nighthawks who flocked from their households.

Some
loneliness darkens
hearts like blindfolds;
nighthawks’ hearts aren’t exceptions.
The woman red and bold,
the man in shadows, and another
man with a cigarette in his hold

are
isolated together.
They are controlled
and defined by solitude.
They don’t belong. No mold
fits them. They only have a
diner, each other, and lonesome souls unconsoled.
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
I await him, naked, head bowed, kneeling
With leather and rope he binds me tightly
Deft hands’ feather touches send me reeling
Melting candles ready, burning brightly  
He blindfolds me then gags me with a bit
And through the darkness, slowly I am led
To a place where in pleasure I shall sit
‘til ecstasy claims me upon the bed
He’s summoned the small death from me thrice now
Three rounds; it does not end with my pleasure
“You’ll take and like what I give you,” he growls
We’re done when he pleases —at his leisure
After all the teasing, pleasing, and pain
We collapse together —one, once again
This poem was written in 2020.
Why can't I fly? Because, I am caged in the bowels of bitter, deceit.
Why can't I dance? Because, my body is bound to the gravity of unacceptable, honor.
Why, can't I sing? Because, my lungs are choked by this haute reservoir of insanity.

But, the Trapeze, artist...
The trapeze artist, climbs the ladder of awe, itself, and walks the silver lining of death.

Why can't I write? Because, my hands are bound in the filth of my past,
meddling with broken things.
Why can't I speak? Because, the honor I am bound to, is to live, life, behind closed windows.
Why can't I see? Because, the blindfolds that sheath my eyes from sin, are more sin than any satan incarnate.

But, the Trapeze, artist...
The trapeze artist, climbs the rungs of the narrow road, and walks over the pit of doom, to save itself.
There is no explanation for this act.

So, why can't I shout? Because, I am voiceless to the concerns of the audience.
Why can't I beg? Because, the world has no room for weakness, fear and more loss.
Why can't I scream? Because...
Because...

Because the Trapeze artist dropped off the high-strung ledge of wonders...
And plummeted into a darkness, that has robbed my audience, of all conscionable thought.

Because... the Trapeze artist, is dead.
This is a poem that I wrote back in 2010 (on July 4th), which is the year I consider to be the dawn of my writing. It was the year that poems came to me effortlessly, continually, like bottled messages from yonder lands. I sat on the shore crafting a boat to make it to yonder, where I thought yonder held the love I so craved and spoke elegantly of. Now I may have been to yonder, and wish to never return...

Enjoy!

DEW
Lora Cerdan Jan 2015
We are living in an self-obsessed, self-serving nation
With citizens who only care about their own salvation
Is this what our heroes lost their lives for?
To see this nation crumble from wall to wall?
We have the freedom to choose but do we use it well?
We keep electing leaders who use lies to buy and sell

The system flawed founded on fallacy
They monopolize, advertise democracy
and yet our voices remain unheard
It's absurd, word for word
how we're lead by cheats and drug lords



I'm sick of seeing yellow people
wearing blindfolds on their eyes
reading yellow newspapers
believing yellow lies


Are you sure you're still thinking?
Maybe you're just one of them believing
the fairy tales they show us on TV
They profit from our own stupidity
conformity is what binds us to these chains
We have to recognize the fact that only one family reigns
We need to change lanes, start using our brains
and get rid of the ******* chains!


They're burning us slowly at the stake
Our lives they're prepared to take
This system was not built to defend us
but to rule us, brainwash and control us
So open your eyes and revolutionize
Assert your position, your freedom utilize!


Go forth and march at the gates
Fueled by fire, justice and rage
This generation should not take their ****
Stand against the norm and defy it  



I'm sick of seeing yellow people
wearing blindfolds on their eyes
reading yellow newspapers
believing yellow lies

They won't let you go, They'll keep you in line
Because you let them ******* in the mind
They won't let you go, They'll keep you in line
Unless you stand up and open your mind


They won't let you win, They'll keep trapped
Because you keep taking their crap
They won't let you go, They'll keep you in line
Unless you stand up and open your mind
Because I'm so inspired by Rage Against The Machine and our  country is ****, I wrote this. This is meant to be a metalrap song but since I haven't made the melody yet, I'm publishing this as a poem.
What are we
but a speck in this universe
of granite, metal and a burning tail
Fiery wild passion
moving in a constant speed
As if we already knew
As if we planned
As if written
As if measured
Do we count in Fibonacci's
in blindfolds eternally spin in this limbo
indulging ourselves in the futility of a dog chasing its tail
are we just asleep in this journey
conversing in our dreams
decoding static noises in the other end of the radio
for flight directions
over shifting planes of time
Like the stars believed that fate is their religion
Or the cosmos just furtive of its secrets?

-Margaret Austin Go, Lost in Orbit
Ceryn May 2013
Every good thing shall happen...

like Friday nights and party rush
surprise calls from a long-time crush
auburn leaves and a cup of tea
cozy couch and a good movie
a sweet embrace, granted wishes
locked up hands, friendly kisses
perfect music, fireworks galore
passionate poetry, books in store
skinny-dipping, pineapple juice
mountaineering, romantic cruise
stick-it notes and scented letters
white rose petals and silver glitters
dusty slip-on and faded pantaloons
sweetened berries and tasty prunes
smooth raps and slow rock hits
magnetic charm and awesome wits
11:11 verses and chicken bones
starry night skies, pebbles and stones
a perfect score, crispy pizza crust
locks and highlights, passionate lust
skirts and pumps, pictures of us
Halloween treats and wedding fuss
hot cappuccino, jam and jelly
first paycheck, winning the lottery
chocolate mousse, ice cold drinks
ocean waves, seductive winks
silk and laces, laughs after cries
cool car drifting and belly butterflies
left hand scribbles, messy hair buns
Oakley goggles and water guns
funny jokes, late night talks
rainy days, twilight walks
flickering lights, vintage cars
logs in swamps and monkey bars
a hopeful daybreak, latte aroma
fogged up glasses, squeaky veranda
carnation in bloom, warm summer breeze
slow love-making, trimmed cypress trees
naughty kiddie play, blindfolds and tricks
mistletoe and acorns, fresh and fancy kicks
baked salmons and grilled corn
ending fights and a newborn
free-verse poetry, an orchestral song
a stranger's smile, a dancing throng
finishing a novel, Luna's glow
binding friendships, December snow

but the best thing for me, I'd like you to know
is to tell you finally that I Love You So.
Heading up the coast a ways
The fog wall rolling in
Couldn't make out where we're going
Much less see where we've been
It covered like a blanket
A black hole by the sea
It was like something from a movie
One that now was starring me
The road lines were invisible
As we ventured through the mist
I couldn't see a single thing
I'm sure you get the gist
We pulled off at a sign of life
A diner on the side
We figured we'd be safe here
And rest some from our ride
The hostess seemed quite startled
When we entered from the gloom
You'd have think she'd seen a spirit
As she led us through the room
"No one's out on nights like these"
"The sane folks hunker down"
"A fog like this could last for days"
We said we're from out of town
We asked about a haven
Somewhere we could get a bed
She told us of an old place
Run by a fellow known as "Red"
She made a reservation
While we were waiting for our meal
Told "Red" we'd be there rightly
He could not disguise his zeal
"Not many folks come out this way"
"At least not for the night"
"The fog here is monotonous"
"It gives most folks a fright"
You could hear the rolling thunder
of the waves upon the shore
But, beyond that you heard nothing
Not a sound came through the door
"Red' said if we were willing
He'd tell us 'bout the place
It was nautical in flavour
A real interesting space
He got our bags secured
And he came back to the fire
He said "What I'll say is all the truth'
"I'll not be called a liar"
The b and b we were now in
Was a lighthouse in years gone by
It stood upon this craggy cliff
To see that no one did not die
One hundred twenty years it stood
His family manned the light
There was always someone here to see
Sailors made it home at night
Ships were lost upon the rocks
From waves come straight from hell
The light was there to guide them
And the town had a large bell
Most times the ships weighed anchor
Stayed away and rode it out
But others, tried their mettle
They wouldn't turn the ship about
There were life boats manned and ready
To go and get survivors from the sea
I've been out many times myself
And I only saved three
The rocks and waves and currents
Take a body far from shore
if we don't get there right quickly
Then we'll n'ere see them no more
The light was a stern warning
That the rocks were looming fast
And if they didn't alter course
Then they surely wouldn't last
We asked who manned it nowadays
He said "no one at all"
It was run by automation
It all changed after the squall
A storm came in five years ago
The light was burning bright
But the snow and ice and wind
Were blocking it from sight
The boat went down without a trace
The boats were still left docked
We couldn't hear their sirens
All the boats remained here locked
They couldn't hear the fog horn
And the light would not shine though
They'd lost communication
And they took down thirty two
The government came in and said
"We have to make a change"
"We need a better lighthouse"
"One that has a longer range"
"So, they put in a new signal"
"Amped the horn and closed me out"
"I was allowed to live beneath her"
"So, I knocked a few things out"
"I opened up the "Lighthouse"
"Never thinking folks would stay"
"But, business has been steady"
"But, only on bad days"
"I've never been back to the light"
"Since they amped it up a notch"
"They took away my livelihood"
"It was a kick into my crotch"
"But, now I get a pension"
"And a few people like you"
"So, I sit here and tell stories"
"And you'll bet I know a few"
"But, now I see you're tired"
"Some advice and then good night"
"Make sure you wear the blindfolds"
"Because I can't turn out the light!!!"
Karijinbba May 2021
I have fought sprouting
the common ardurous way
known by most Earthlings,
through mean suffering pain
that life is filled with.

I sought to sprout of pure joy
immense happiness only,
true love found grasped.
faintly,
that joyful way of sprouting
great wisdom
like a lovely butterfly
from rose bush traveling
to rose buds
flew by me
eluding my white
gardenia rose garden.
Or stealing what it could.
My wisdom now bleeds.
and many avoid me
like a bad owmen.

They wear blindfolds
drink heavily and do other
cruel things to themselves
seeking paradise blindly.
The wisdom of profound joy
that never arrives to stay.
Some asleep walk in their pain.

I won't ask you to walk with me
we all crawl, walk, run, or fly
following our own dreams
roads not taken weeping.

I wait for one traveler only
who would share any ride
To happier easier greener
serenity pastures.
Perhaps together learning
Not to bleed for wisdom,
  and working out troubles
as they come along
One day at a time.
~~~~~~~~
By Karijinbba
All Rights reserved
2021
Learning comes unplanned
embrace it and discard
Leaving all for tomorrow
Mostly tomorrow arrives but wears masks

I am a tired but willing traveler
Janette Aug 2012
Only a distance in time, a slow drift, a free-fall,
To where the curve of the crescent moon ribbons ebon hours together,
And silvern ache dips in moon-silken pools;
Where the poetry of spooned tongues, impart a lasting call,
where he hushes me in the sway of stars,
Drowning my heartbeat in the breath of swollen whispers;
His musky scent, alluring
Melting those hidden places aching for the heat of his touch...



I taste the stir of conversation across my skin;
A silence settles there,
In the cool drifts of its tone, I sense the pulse in his throat,
I feel it thrum, so fragile through veins crowded with the
Stained glass shards of his scent;
My heart draws to the rhythm of his love; and
I am pressed against the quilt of his breath,
Soft.....softly.....a fleeting touch
Skitters in rapid succession around the curve of my neck, where
His lips whisper want in moist seduction...


Here in the freckled light his hips teach me,
Rocking me to the sighs of angels, heated flames of fragrant, vanilla foreplay,
Burn uncontrollably with such undying desire;
Folding my breath inside his hands; all smoke and violets,
Stolen moments;
Needing him, like blood, desiring only him to brim the indulgence,
Swallow it as sorrow and birth it as fire between my hungry thighs, as I beg his ******* to expose me;
Hushing my lips with the fire of his mouth, and the
Slide of his tongue from throat to breast,
His hands pressed upon my skin in urgent exploration,
Spreading me on an altar of rainbows...



Where he Loves me deep and dark in the owl light,
And I tremble, as the wet of want unleashes in the handcuffs of his voice,
Whispering blindfolds of lavender satin around my eyes,
Urging me to braille his body with my tongue's tip
My hungry mouth a mere vessel,
Waiting with wonder, agape for the fill of his adoration;
Soul touching, silk soft fingers, heart caressing the hours;
As we torture the gazing moon, pooling lakes of creamery soft,
Pillowing silken pleasures; breathing paradise upon the fragile blooms
Seared crimson into my veins...



Naked in his arms, heated emotions trickle down,
In a pour of tangled need; in the cradle of collapsed sighs,
Fingers tracing pleasure, lips swollen pouty with desire,
Drag of tongues forging serpentine trails,
Whispered things never heard before;
And like the sky I spread for him, the ink of us
Pouring lavender velvet...two bodies melting into the voice of one,
Chained in moans, in primal kisses that beg arched worship
Kissed raw in the silver scorch, of moonlights rapture,
Where moondust meets skin......

Love Is Deep .....
The laying of hands and lips upon a canvas of aching skin....ignites emotions pressed into the palate by fingers painting tender hues and subtle strokes....tracing lines and curves, indelible with passions ink....climactic quivers, paused
upon the tip of tongues, that ride the ebb and flow of cresting waves..... bleeding seductive shades, blanketing our embrace.....feeling your lips so close.....as breath escapes us........ J
Mikaila Mar 2013
I smell like you all over.
Your perfume clings to my hair,
My skin.
It has seeped into my pores
And softened my lips.
I don't even know what it's called
But I wear it like silk
And I'm not sure I want it to wash off.
I think it's true-
The senses sharpen when sight flees.
Should I feel different?
Georgiana S Aug 2011
White skin
Molded in black light
Crystal tears
Faded in dark wine -
Innocent fears
Crypted in a muddy dawn,
White, white veils
Of the black, black soul.

Soothing tired rays...
The ashes of canescent shadows
In black blankets
Of white memories, thoughtless days
Melodies, phantasms of whispers -
Too late, too soon...dispair.

They all appear in strange ways,
Mixed feelings in a maze
Drowned in a deep silence -
Deaf screams in a corner.
Transparence...
A black mind, the disorder.

A life between agony and death,
A death betweem sunrise and health,
Vision between a mirror and a trigger
Freedom between bars and linger
Dreams between blindfolds and handcuffs
Thirst hiding beneath a sea of cups
Hunger lieing in corners with bread bits
Perfect love dieing where it fits.

Black and white,
Silence and screams
Numbness, too many feelings...
Eyes wide open, but locked inside.
I've lost the key
To a true reality
Beyond these mesmerizing dawns
They're not true, they're not false...
There's no sun, there's no moon
Too late, then too soon
Trying to fake and not to see
There's no sunrise in the whole of me.
Copyright Georgiana.S 2011
Michael DeVoe Jun 2014
We are students in a beginner's art class you and I
We are both staring at the same bowl of fruit
Aren't we using different brushes
Love, we are using different paints
Yes, we will fall in love
In the possible futures we see in each other
We will leave this class holding hands
Carrying different paintings of the same fruit
We will wake from naps on the same couch
Remembering different dreams
Make dinner arrangements
Whisper different forevers to our friends behind
I-think-she's-the-ones
I-think-he's-the-ones
We will say it loudly
We will be proud of our luck to have found each other
We will be so certain in the inevitability of us that we will tie blindfolds around each other's eyes
Take ten paces
Say, I love you
And with complete confidence in the future our love is bringing
We will walk towards each other
Ten steps
Twenty steps
Thirty steps
Reach out
Take each other's hands
Remove our blindfolds
Color us confused
To find ourselves in the arms of others
Color ourselves surprised
To be smiling
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://goo.gl/5x3Tae
Other worlds have hopes,
for plants, for trees and
dogs walking by, panting
soaking in humidity like carp
above water.
Not ours.
Dead ends, parked cars supplanting
serenity with passion, desire
crammed into
row upon row of heartless
dwellings expunging sunglass-wearing
**** suckers
blocking their emptiness from the world
with reverse blindfolds.
I know their eyes still glare at me, scoffing at
them. Walking, I
walk past
their barricaded kennels, under-
construction housing
impersonating natural climes
with sushi and slushy shops.
People like them have admiss-
able drives, hankering after
freedom; they're indoctrinated
to believe admission is
monthly cable bills
wired in beneath concrete slabs
maintained compliance
through lines painted on grass
where overlords can tell livestock
what to do.
Bus chutes form
hillsides, beside lines of
trees which perfume these
feedlots
we call
cities.
**** oozes below streets
walked on, they stared at me
like cows, watching a ranch-hand
suspicion toward anything
beyond bistro fences.
"What the **** are you looking at,
you filthy animal?
Have you no idea which species your greed
feeds?
Do you know where this ends
for you?
Who's tazing your ***,
who's making you sit there?"
Moo, mooo.
Mooooooooooooooooooo.
Receipts, a cudgel on each table,
more cudgels ring
from pockets
telling them what time it is,
where they're to be.
Sunday's almost over,
back to blocks of houses!
Graze on painted grass,
then die,
but not before you stare at me
with empty eyes,
you pathetic, miserable
creatures.
MMXII

This comes from a very angry place for me.
I've been trying to write this poem all along.
I can wish no better fate than knowing we all,
one day, must die. What a blessing.
Wuji Seshat Oct 2014
I’m the captured poet of dream
a Ferris wheel author of
haunted Sioux transcendence-miracles

an alchemist of language
maybe the last poet of epiphanies
that dance like a silent water-tanka
the fire-rain-truth shouts inside of me

like a poet that navigates the overmind
a benevolent alien collective-mind
an indecipherable dialogue of

darling insomnia divinity and
fantasy-starved and sun-quilted
ambrosia, my lungs filled
with the promise of the cosmos

come to life in majestic verse
behind blindfolds of invisible offerings
resigned to the hypothetical
responsibility of mediumship.
Steven Fortune May 2014
Soft shelter
I urge your preternatural
brigades of perspective
to ground my resignation
in some hypothetical
formation of inclined leisure
If I'm treading mere chance
in my hope then I urge you
not to simply humour me with
sly tomorrows assuring
optimism in the brittle molts
of days shrinking to reveal
solar aspirations
I'll turn my back
to the broken weather like
a naked sibling
There is nothing humourous
in humouring
though I've taken it
in self-destructive perpetuity
Tie me to the rack of realism
like Odysseus before the Sirens
I'll sigh and swallow
yet another new medication
one for soft shelter
in compounded sleep
where perspectives hide
and the chemicals of moods
long dismantled
congregate behind blindfolds of
destiny's clumsy executioners
05 24 14
Nicholas Laurent Jan 2011
A man standing tall; a madman in leather shoes.
With a wave of an unseen hand, with the aid of a pen,
The thoughts and minds of a species are forged.

The beasts teach by doing. The evolved teach by writing.
Yet a word only contains the truth one assigns to it.

So where does honor reside?
Where does that unconquerable and objective
Nobility rest its tired limbs?

Is it found in the ****** of lawlessness?
Or in the temperance of our betters?

Is all certainty lost to them?
With abandoned streets and crowded fears,
The evolved, so different from the beasts,
Look nervously for that that unseen hand.
That hand aided with a pen.

And still,
Safe amid the outer rim,
The beasts look on.
And the proud and evolved accept their blindfolds.
An existence where truth and falsehood ...
Where good and evil ...
Where freedom and imprisonment ...

... Are all just words written by an unseen hand.
© Nicholas Laurent  1/14/2011
Jaya Gumatay Oct 2013
They say that love blinds you;
That once you find “the one,”
They will be the only ones you see,
Whether it’s in a crowded room of familiar faces and strangers you’ve never met before
Or in a city with emotionless people wandering through the streets attempting to find their souls-
It’ll always be just the two of you.
Love hides all the darkness in the world,
All the evil and corruption going on around you,
But it also blinds you from seeing the truth.
You see, when you’re in love with someone,
You do whatever it takes to stay in love with that person.
You forget their flaws,
Erase all their mistakes and scars from their bodies.
You block out what others say about your relationship,
Becoming deaf to all the doubts and reprimanding of the adults that “know better.”
When you’re in love, you want to stay in love.
You want it to be just the two of you in this entirely chaotic world.
See, love makes a person blind.
It makes you walk through the Labyrinth without Ariadne’s ball of string to guide you.
It blindfolds you and refuses to hold your hand and direct you to the end.
It makes you want to do stupid things,
And it makes you want to jump off a cliff.
When you’re crazy and irrevocably in love,
You’ll go psychotic trying to make the other person happy.
You crave for their happiness so much that you forget to focus on your satisfactions.
But what happens if you’re so far in love that you’ve become accustomed to tunnel vision even when you’re far out of love?
You see, I know this girl.
She loves the idea of being in love.
She loves all the romance and the sweetness and all the attention when it comes to being in love.
She loves loving others so much that she forgot to love herself.
She’s so caught up in this idea that she almost forgot to get her head out of the clouds and place her feet on the earth for a minute.
See, I don’t believe in perfect.
There’s always something in this world that will corrupt beauty
And being close to perfect is never enough for society.
We’ve all been brought up in a universe of false hopes and harsh realities,
But we still crave for perfection,
We still want perfect.
She wants a perfect boy and a perfect life,
And it’s nice to know that someone out there is still dreaming and believing in the goodness of the world,
But deep in our veins, we know this dream is unreachable,
And I think it’s time for all of us to keep our feet on the ground and not let our heads get too caught up in the moment,
But we all know that might never happen either.
Lunarian Apr 2012
There is nothing to fear, but fear itself

there is nothing to fear, but fear itself

yet, my heart beats loudly in my chest

yet the feeling is as if I'll take my very last breath



I have to remind myself that hope strengthens

hope to survive this world is my motivation

and hope that I will survive is my determination

but to be trapped awfully in this world is my damnation.



I also have to remember that fear kills

fear is the blindfolds you shouldn't wear on a battlefield

because fear can get you or a partner of yours killed

and I would hate to let my partner or myself to leave the world like this



A bullet to the head because I refused to listen

to the command of halt and take cover  that was given

to me before I ran out and blew my cover

I am an aimless child; life lessons is my mother



Although i sometimes get punked by my  fears

I remind myself that hope strengthens and fear kills

what doesn't **** me only makes me stronger

and because I conquer these fears I live much longer



Because when danger calls and people start to fear

fear leads to panic, and no one thinks logically against fear

and demons smile, they dance, and come near

and unthinkable bad things happen whenever these beings are near



So in order to distrought the demons and drive them insane

I'll take heed in danger, think carefully, and stay perfectly sane

to conquer most of my fears,

is the name of the game
Karma was child from a humble family whose dream had a spoonful of wishes. She never thought of a hen sitting on her plate for lunch until her body shaped to capture the focus of the community.
Her and hard work were inseparable, and motivation sparked from her deeds. This was short lived by blindfolds of moments.  She then landed in a ditch of blessings which surpassed her baring as paper made solutions to all her faults and soonest laziness took her for a companion.
Yes, she had completely forgotten her path neither could she trace her background, for looks bought her a ticket to a lifestyle and rather failed to resist becoming stingy.
She learnt not the meaning of love for it carried no sense, and the she needed not to learn of true love, oh how could she for to her it was a monster that stole opportunities.
The caterpillar she was grew into a butterfly one seen by many and so touched by those whose hands could afford the beautiful colours of its petals. Souls fell apart over the turned beauty of the wings that went toxic. The meal that went bad before the harvest of a promised yield.
The love to taste of the night shinning sun evolved many to empty pockets and others to bundles of regret to disease and misfortune. It wasn’t her making nor desire, it was the glory of Gods carvings that alerted those near and far to come eco and share of visibility of a living being stationed as nature.
This beauty scorched mens eyes day in and day out as she melted souls and flowers faded in the sun. she glowed on gentle pockets, never invested any seeds for a tomorrow. Time wasn’t her ally, it brought a change in season as the clouds ushered in rain sprouted new and better yields that out competed the market of the former.
Clouds shrinked and a dark tomorrow was born, the wine tasted more bitter than old wine in a new bottle. Then the veterans got and adopted new medals at the cost of the old fades of the butterfly contests.
What was left was a story tale with a bunch of little and innocent ferries whose direction was unfolded but hope set from a single ray through the thickest forest.

Thomas Bron Mukama
#herdsmanofprogress
The kid has it all since that’s how it works.
Blindfolds cover the view of life and
Smiles seem to be everlasting.
Then the apartment needed a new couch.

Looking out windows and porches to
Watch the sunrise changes your view
Of how to buy your coasters, but couches
Take time to know. That’s the one.

My couch is white and green
With two stains from when
Nillie tried to eat pudding.
voodoo Sep 2015
I think of you on days the odor of water makes me dry-heave.

Our photographs still throw me, offguard, into flashbulb memories. Every detail etched into my brain with a hot scalpel.

This isn’t an apology, this is a confession. I am not guilty in my eyes.

That was my hollow lava, this is what it crystallized into. Look at it, laugh at it, break it, keep it. My words were only meant to be beautiful in someone else’s eyes. In your eyes.

Drown my breath in a tub of sand, tell me everything that isn’t alright.

You can weave our veins into a dystopian novel, stamp it with 'fiction' and we can pretend it never happened.

The ordinary incinerated in your palms and I’m reeling from this hamartia.

Paint your carcinogens on my skin, carve them into my bones, punch them onto my eyes. Hold these hands one more time and feed me a blatant lie.

Feed me anything that’ll help me swallow these choked up cries.

I’ve wondered how the others were, how you were.

Was it art when you wrapped blindfolds around their necks?

What was it to them? How were they dying?

How am I dying?

Because I wake up in the odd hours, my chest feeling like it’s soaked in salt water,

and you’re standing at the edge of my bed,

with a mug of poison,

smiling,

telling me it’s okay,

it’s just a bad dream,

here, I made some coffee.


And I believe you.
for K
kate crash Aug 2010
Cockroaches on cracked floors
***** fuzz amps and holes in boys
Dolly strung in girls hanging from a bulb
Sways on the cement I'm a troll
Wrestling with blindfolds back knives and lost homes
I curl on the couch
Red broken leather
Fall into a mouse trap
Half smoked dreams
Curling fingernails up my thighs
Half forgotten lullabies
Reaching for the sky
Don't fetch me
I'm still alive
© katecrash 2010

— The End —