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"captured" poems
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips i practice things i'll never say to you i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it" i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they ***** we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
0
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
submissions to post secret
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips i practice things i'll never say to you i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it" i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they ***** we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
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20
For years my heart was guarded, protected from the world. But somehow you have disarmed me, opened and unfurled. You’ve taken me, broken and damaged, mishandled and hurled . Yet you see me as delicate and dainty, so precious and pearled. Everything’s not perfect but it sure is beautiful here. Your smile so bright with a voice I just love to hear. Your touch, so gentle I just want to have you near. I love your energy and your presence, you make everyone else disappear. He has captured my trust and that’s something not easily given. He has made all my worries forgotten and all of my heartache is forgiven. His mission was to win my heart and made his goal clear, he was driven. After plenty of chances to earn my trust, I’d finally decided to give in. I feel so loved, so valued, so cared for so protected. He has won me over and I doubt I’ll ever regret it. To a man who truly cares for me and satisfies my every need. For you have saved me from my darkness, and my heart you have freed.
0
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 6:27 PM UTC
Rescued
in between my insecurities I can’t be found sometimes, dumbfounded by my surroundings. hiding, in between my insecurities. i’ve been captured in the moment, scared to say another word, caught , in between my insecurities I got lost within the essence, talking nonsensical thoughts, lying inside, in between my insecurities. I learnt my lesson swiftly, teenage years, lunchbox idioms , sandwiched, in between my insecurities.
0
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
in between my insecurities
I never knew what beauty was until I saw him With every imperfection, With every stumble, and with every stutter, My heart knocks hard inside my chest Trying to escape Hoping to be captured by his warm, calloused fingers. And you don't even know who I am That day you bumped into me I dropped all my books You helped me pick them up And I got to look into your eyes They were a lovely color Not even Picasso could recreate And you still don't even know who I am We bumped into one another again at a party You slurred apologies and "excuse me's" And I laughed it off Trying to Ignore the fact that your hand was creeping on my waist Your fingertips igniting sparks in my skin You held your deep gaze with your Picasso-colored eyes And dragged me into a room tripping over nothing I thought you finally knew who I was The next day at school you bumped into me again You had dropped my phone This time you didn't pick it up And you walked away without a second glance or apology And you still don't even know who I am
0
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Beauty
I was a caterpillar , before I became a butterfly . The pain I had to endure in order to transform into the beauty I am today . This is my tale . In the forest there was, My cocoon wrapped in the finest silk, With a power to live in a colorful world. To dream and conquer goals. A Vivacious soul spinning in the purest silk Growing and maturing as I spun. Wishing for freedom with my beautiful wings, Counting the days to be free and soar as a lively butterfly until You winded into my community Lured my queen and her uneven monarch. Tempted to sabotage my purity. For that you, Lured yourself into my vulernable cocoon with that trust, you decided to disrupt my process. How can one man ruin my nesting site? And I had faith in you , to be a figure I never had. I wanted. My heart ached for it. I needed it. To be loved . To be nurtured. To never be like those stray dogs looking for a home. This was the moment . Where.... Innocence stripped, heart captured. My Freedom gone. You were naive to comprehend On what you were doing... You would stab my cocoon with your sickening poison . Over and over you stabbed . Ruptured the veins of my innocence . To break my finest silk . Purity banished. Stabbing your poison was Making my cocoon useless , worthless , unwanted, colorless, I tried to run and I tried to scream but I was devoured by this poison It was the love I deserve. Couldn't escape , numb to the pain For every poison injected, I began to Question God? Where was he ? when I shed out a tear of help. Where was he? when my cocoon was destroyed. Was I loved God? when I muffled help in your name. I hated myself , I stay in my cocoon afraid to see my future. I wasn't going to be a beautiful butterfly Battered Butterfly My life seemed to be colorless No one wants a battered butterfly My life.... It seemed it had ended when poison sunk onto my helpless body . No one wants a battered butterfly Imprisoned to these chains. Being poisoned every night by different Predators. Oh God.... Those predators ... Battered lifeless little butterfly Was I ever loved in my nesting site? But then again nobody loves a battered butterfly How can I reach to heaven when I was worthless. Believed I was a vile ***** Tricked into a poison of hell. Battered Ugly Butterfly ***** Little butterfly*. There was no light in tunnel There was no holes in my silk To escape this poisonous nest. Why? Because I believe nobody wants save a battered butterfly How can the man I trusted ruined me. I thought you could be the one to complete my lovely monarch . To complete the missing piece. But you continued to misuse me. To haunt me. To barricade my heart To own my soul But one thing I can truly say You never once won over me. You never imprinted my change. I endured your pain That was a sign of God To show me what strength I am capable of. That was the light that I found, You had no control to inflict pain anymore. Because I became impervious to your pain. I am a beautiful butterfly reigning over my monarch with no thought of you. That is my freedom
0
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 2:25 AM UTC
Battered Butterfly
I was a caterpillar , before I became a butterfly . The pain I had to endure in order to transform into the beauty I am today . This is my tale . In the forest there was, My cocoon wrapped in the finest silk, With a power to live in a colorful world. To dream and conquer goals. A Vivacious soul spinning in the purest silk Growing and maturing as I spun. Wishing for freedom with my beautiful wings, Counting the days to be free and soar as a lively butterfly until You winded into my community Lured my queen and her uneven monarch. Tempted to sabotage my purity. For that you, Lured yourself into my vulernable cocoon with that trust, you decided to disrupt my process. How can one man ruin my nesting site? And I had faith in you , to be a figure I never had. I wanted. My heart ached for it. I needed it. To be loved . To be nurtured. To never be like those stray dogs looking for a home. This was the moment . Where.... Innocence stripped, heart captured. My Freedom gone. You were naive to comprehend On what you were doing... You would stab my cocoon with your sickening poison . Over and over you stabbed . Ruptured the veins of my innocence . To break my finest silk . Purity banished. Stabbing your poison was Making my cocoon useless , worthless , unwanted, colorless, I tried to run and I tried to scream but I was devoured by this poison It was the love I deserve. Couldn't escape , numb to the pain For every poison injected, I began to Question God? Where was he ? when I shed out a tear of help. Where was he? when my cocoon was destroyed. Was I loved God? when I muffled help in your name. I hated myself , I stay in my cocoon afraid to see my future. I wasn't going to be a beautiful butterfly Battered Butterfly My life seemed to be colorless No one wants a battered butterfly My life.... It seemed it had ended when poison sunk onto my helpless body . No one wants a battered butterfly Imprisoned to these chains. Being poisoned every night by different Predators. Oh God.... Those predators ... Battered lifeless little butterfly Was I ever loved in my nesting site? But then again nobody loves a battered butterfly How can I reach to heaven when I was worthless. Believed I was a vile ***** Tricked into a poison of hell. Battered Ugly Butterfly ***** Little butterfly*. There was no light in tunnel There was no holes in my silk To escape this poisonous nest. Why? Because I believe nobody wants save a battered butterfly How can the man I trusted ruined me. I thought you could be the one to complete my lovely monarch . To complete the missing piece. But you continued to misuse me. To haunt me. To barricade my heart To own my soul But one thing I can truly say You never once won over me. You never imprinted my change. I endured your pain That was a sign of God To show me what strength I am capable of. That was the light that I found, You had no control to inflict pain anymore. Because I became impervious to your pain. I am a beautiful butterfly reigning over my monarch with no thought of you. That is my freedom
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112
Some moments are not to be captured not in a photo not in a story not anywhere Some moments should only live in a memory
0
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
Moments
You dig a hole in the ground You keep digging deep down So the echo won’t slip because your goal is to scream Scream loud to ease the pain inside   The dirt on your hands is the hurt, the pain You’ve been carrying around Somehow you kept holding on now freedom is what you seek Fading memories is your dream But what happens after you scream? You have been carrying this weight on your feet feeling the heat Blood flowing through your veins Love turned into hate & trust into fear So after all are you really at PEACE? Then… The battle with your mind begins Because digging is no longer your escape Your own fear has captured you in a cage   So you write it down on paper Not in pencil but in pen Because there are no mistakes That can be erased What’s done is done And your shame cannot be wiped away   Once again you fight in the flesh all you want is peace And a resting place Yet you seek no one but yourself.
0
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 2:44 AM UTC
Escape
Have you ever seen the sun rise? Witnessed with your own two eyes? Watching exactly how it went? Not through someone else's photo captured moment You'll really enjoy it more if you view it live & you'll appreciate just being alive I've watched the sun rise countless mornings It's like my own private showings Each one completely different in every way & the best way to start any day They're bright & beautiful Breatakingly blissful You'll never feel the same once you've experienced it & so many will never understand the feeling you get It's hard to explain but I'll do my best I'd imagine it's like fresh air deepily inhaled into your chest Your lungs fill up with all the freshness & you exhale all that causes you stress Your worries all just disappear Your mind is calm & clear It's a feeling that just forever stays Until your dying days Joy & happiness is all you release It is what brings you inner peace All you care to do now is enjoy everything No matter the troubles & obstacles life may bring A happy soul is all you've got & need Your heart has compassion & optimism is what you bleed Sharing your smile with all you pass or whoever you meet That is your favorite way to say hello & greet All from experiencing a live sun rise happen That all may seem impossible to imagine All that out of just a sun rising? When it happens to you, it IS quite surprising Shocking at first, you just can't believe how you feel & you wonder how can this even be real? If you allow yourself to let go of your worries & any doubt Then you make room to clearly feel what it's about You're allowing yourself to be vulnerable & that's when you become more relatable Clearing your clouded mind of opinions from useless chatter Let's you finally enjoy what most may think or say doesn't really matter Those are the ones who don't pay a lot of attention & are afraid to get lost in their imagination Never will they set a foot out of their "safe" box & risk crossing that thin line It's OK, it's their loss & that's just fine They'll just never understand your constant positive attitude & can't recall a time you were even the slightest bit rude They will never know how to just live happily Inside their soul will be dying slowly Some won't see how beautiful a sun rise really is It's something no one should ever miss A sun rise & even a sun set Are too amazing to just forget!!
0
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
Sunrise
Have you ever seen the sun rise? Witnessed with your own two eyes? Watching exactly how it went? Not through someone else's photo captured moment You'll really enjoy it more if you view it live & you'll appreciate just being alive I've watched the sun rise countless mornings It's like my own private showings Each one completely different in every way & the best way to start any day They're bright & beautiful Breatakingly blissful You'll never feel the same once you've experienced it & so many will never understand the feeling you get It's hard to explain but I'll do my best I'd imagine it's like fresh air deepily inhaled into your chest Your lungs fill up with all the freshness & you exhale all that causes you stress Your worries all just disappear Your mind is calm & clear It's a feeling that just forever stays Until your dying days Joy & happiness is all you release It is what brings you inner peace All you care to do now is enjoy everything No matter the troubles & obstacles life may bring A happy soul is all you've got & need Your heart has compassion & optimism is what you bleed Sharing your smile with all you pass or whoever you meet That is your favorite way to say hello & greet All from experiencing a live sun rise happen That all may seem impossible to imagine All that out of just a sun rising? When it happens to you, it IS quite surprising Shocking at first, you just can't believe how you feel & you wonder how can this even be real? If you allow yourself to let go of your worries & any doubt Then you make room to clearly feel what it's about You're allowing yourself to be vulnerable & that's when you become more relatable Clearing your clouded mind of opinions from useless chatter Let's you finally enjoy what most may think or say doesn't really matter Those are the ones who don't pay a lot of attention & are afraid to get lost in their imagination Never will they set a foot out of their "safe" box & risk crossing that thin line It's OK, it's their loss & that's just fine They'll just never understand your constant positive attitude & can't recall a time you were even the slightest bit rude They will never know how to just live happily Inside their soul will be dying slowly Some won't see how beautiful a sun rise really is It's something no one should ever miss A sun rise & even a sun set Are too amazing to just forget!!
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54
From Alan Lomax to the commercial art and now the money machine. At the turn of the century; when sound recording 1st became available to the masses, recording a song was an opportunity for folk to reach out; and tell the world something up front and personal. It meant that people were able to put themselves on “The record” A way of leaving a permanent audio statement, an epitaph, an audio sound bite immortalising ~ life, mood, emotion captured and bottled for all eternity. (A medium that conveyed messages from artists and storytellers of all kinds) A recording was also a great addition to "The family album" something more tangible, a window to a real person, with a real life, a message and a point of view; a legacy, a blast from the past. Few people expected sound prints to be re-designed, homogenised, formulated, copied, repackaged and that art and the message would be played over and over again by new artists in the form of "cover music" or that the style of the messages would become secularized, seperated into distinctive groups, or constrained by an elite clique or commercial genre. Labelling and streamlining art & music mostly benefits the commercial art & music industry; and no longer the artists and creators. I've no problem with good business, or the multi-billion pound industrys that have gained commercial success. However the process of mass homogenisation, product synthesis, marketing, streamlining and then packaging fashion, sound and synthetic culture to sell a product, leaves very little room for creative people to just be creative. A medium originally open to many for self expression, a historical record, an archive, a voice, a personal message; Is now just a vehicle for advertising and perpetuating a genre of nonsense, so much so that there is now more white noise immortalised than messages. To re-cap ~ I Think that creativity and expressionism; like story telling conveys moods and messages from the present and past! Artists and musicians should have the opportunity to create and produce more information than they copy; thus creating a richer more colourful tapestry, whilst not devaluing the message of their predecessors! Purcy Flaherty.
0
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
The media machine and its lack of authenticity
From Alan Lomax to the commercial art and now the money machine. At the turn of the century; when sound recording 1st became available to the masses, recording a song was an opportunity for folk to reach out; and tell the world something up front and personal. It meant that people were able to put themselves on “The record” A way of leaving a permanent audio statement, an epitaph, an audio sound bite immortalising ~ life, mood, emotion captured and bottled for all eternity. (A medium that conveyed messages from artists and storytellers of all kinds) A recording was also a great addition to "The family album" something more tangible, a window to a real person, with a real life, a message and a point of view; a legacy, a blast from the past. Few people expected sound prints to be re-designed, homogenised, formulated, copied, repackaged and that art and the message would be played over and over again by new artists in the form of "cover music" or that the style of the messages would become secularized, seperated into distinctive groups, or constrained by an elite clique or commercial genre. Labelling and streamlining art & music mostly benefits the commercial art & music industry; and no longer the artists and creators. I've no problem with good business, or the multi-billion pound industrys that have gained commercial success. However the process of mass homogenisation, product synthesis, marketing, streamlining and then packaging fashion, sound and synthetic culture to sell a product, leaves very little room for creative people to just be creative. A medium originally open to many for self expression, a historical record, an archive, a voice, a personal message; Is now just a vehicle for advertising and perpetuating a genre of nonsense, so much so that there is now more white noise immortalised than messages. To re-cap ~ I Think that creativity and expressionism; like story telling conveys moods and messages from the present and past! Artists and musicians should have the opportunity to create and produce more information than they copy; thus creating a richer more colourful tapestry, whilst not devaluing the message of their predecessors! Purcy Flaherty.
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14
gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight, immortalized in a glory fast fading. distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded, as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens.      _dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,_ as angels fall from grace, wings clipped and torn asunder. the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching; the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled.      _a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;_ drawn, not fired. frozen heroes lifting voices unheard;      _the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,_ silver linings beckoning victories of heaven's epics left unsung. look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten, for they speak to you in murals of smeared colors and pure light. but hush! sweet child, off you drift into an insincere sleep, until these stories buried beneath your lips,      singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that    linger ,over your tongue  , are no more than a shadow of a flame.    and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes    and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets    she whispers,         _the renaissance was not painted for you._
0
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
atlas captured
when the clock ticks at 12, another minute has passed and another day has been renewed. it replenishes an entire moment that separates yesterday from today. when the clock ticks at 12, a part of me has left something for good. something that could only be retrieved by the nostalgia of the passing hours that gives a pang of discomfort and dismay. when the clock ticks at 12, a fairy godmother is there waiting for me to move past everything and start fresh, like nothing has ever happened from yesterday but when the clock ticks at 3, my emotions are scattered, eating me alive. it kicks me out of the zone - exposing me to a world of nothing but things to hide. it haunts my core, dwells with my demons, building up emotions that don't seem to collide and at 3, I find you - once again with all the sublime images we’ve captured and grand words we’ve uttered. i find you, drowning from the roots of my memoirs... and there I see how midnights took parts of me because at 3, I’ll always remember how I grew with thee a.t.
0
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
when the clock ticks
Juicy, sweet, hot chocolate skin...black girls are black goddess **** black girls For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulattoes. Sweet brown chocolate color. And inviting, savoryly pure black-sugar skin color. This is the most delicious, beautiful, sweet candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a pastry shop when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get her children from her, and live with only one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her alone. Your life will be the sweetest. Skin of black color and color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. The skin of dark-skinned girls seems to be radiating the heat of *** burning sweet, sensual passion, this color of temptation, attraction. There are drums of ethnic, traditional music, it's the sound of *** . The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ****** The skin of black and dark chocolate is the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. The women of three races are beautiful: the sultry, torrid, hot chocolate of hot passion of the deep passion of black fire of love and *** a paradise oasis of tenderness of the east, and snow-white, sensual pearls. For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American girls and women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulatto. Sweet brown chocolate color. And alluring, relish pure black sugar color of skin. This is the most delicious, beautiful, cute candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a candy store when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get children from her, and you will live only with one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her. Your life will be the sweetest. Your skin is the color of one hot, unforgettable night, your libido is the word lava in your hot body, burning passion, only your photos can excite me, only your beauty turns off my brains, you have a **** ****** tune in my head, you are like a hot bath after a hard of the day, like an ****** massage, like a soft pillow with sleeping softness. Dark skin The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ****** The skin is black and the color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. Dark-skinned beauties are a deep passion of black fire - this is a hot safari, a wild savannah, an exotic havana. My new love poem, i hope you will like it. For my dear light brown girls Captivating honey caramel is like a shining dawn, life with you is like a sweet ****** dream. Juicy sweet fabulous fantasy beautiful. From your sexuality, the glasses of the captured ****** force in your eyes are sweating, this is the amazing magic of charm concealed in them. You are my depraved temptation ***** temptation. The sweet temptation of a tenderly roaring passion is a breathtaking juicy caramel berry, sometimes pouring with a picturesque modulation, tender sensual shades of red sunset, incinerated with the burning heat of passion. From your hottest, sultry beauty, the brain seems to turn off and faint from your sweetest kisses. Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
0
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 12:56 AM UTC
Juicy, sweet, hot chocolate skin
Juicy, sweet, hot chocolate skin...black girls are black goddess **** black girls For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulattoes. Sweet brown chocolate color. And inviting, savoryly pure black-sugar skin color. This is the most delicious, beautiful, sweet candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a pastry shop when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get her children from her, and live with only one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her alone. Your life will be the sweetest. Skin of black color and color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. The skin of dark-skinned girls seems to be radiating the heat of *** burning sweet, sensual passion, this color of temptation, attraction. There are drums of ethnic, traditional music, it's the sound of *** . The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ****** The skin of black and dark chocolate is the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. The women of three races are beautiful: the sultry, torrid, hot chocolate of hot passion of the deep passion of black fire of love and *** a paradise oasis of tenderness of the east, and snow-white, sensual pearls. For guys and men. The most beautiful, attractive, seductive, **** and exciting in African and African-American girls and women is their sweet, juicy, chocolate skin color. Honey caramel mulatto. Sweet brown chocolate color. And alluring, relish pure black sugar color of skin. This is the most delicious, beautiful, cute candy in the world. You feel like a sweet tooth in a candy store when there are a lot of them around you. If you marry one of them and get children from her, and you will live only with one of them all your life, and you will be faithful only to her. Your life will be the sweetest. Your skin is the color of one hot, unforgettable night, your libido is the word lava in your hot body, burning passion, only your photos can excite me, only your beauty turns off my brains, you have a **** ****** tune in my head, you are like a hot bath after a hard of the day, like an ****** massage, like a soft pillow with sleeping softness. Dark skin The black skin of a girl with which sweat and moisture is flowing, as if she still radiates ardent, hot, passionate, and a little stuffy *** in the sauna and her sweet moans are heard. This skin color is like a powerful aphrodisiac replacing ****** The skin is black and the color of dark chocolate are the sweetest, seductive shades of sincere, hot passion. Dark-skinned beauties are a deep passion of black fire - this is a hot safari, a wild savannah, an exotic havana. My new love poem, i hope you will like it. For my dear light brown girls Captivating honey caramel is like a shining dawn, life with you is like a sweet ****** dream. Juicy sweet fabulous fantasy beautiful. From your sexuality, the glasses of the captured ****** force in your eyes are sweating, this is the amazing magic of charm concealed in them. You are my depraved temptation ***** temptation. The sweet temptation of a tenderly roaring passion is a breathtaking juicy caramel berry, sometimes pouring with a picturesque modulation, tender sensual shades of red sunset, incinerated with the burning heat of passion. From your hottest, sultry beauty, the brain seems to turn off and faint from your sweetest kisses. Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
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14
Hazy outlines familiar faces Echoes of familiar places Captured moments long forgotten Honesty in words unspoken A fleeting smile unguarded eyes Truth beneath the surface lies Pause a moment the masquerade Telling postures now displayed Rueful smiles and tired eyes A warm glance melts a mask of ice And as the frame fades away Smoke and mirrors back into play
0
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
Captured Moments
You see me suspended in space-time as I’m passing the 89th floor Falling headlong, my form is impressive. Sadly, no one will be holding up scores. Just moments ago I was standing at a Morton’s Fork in the road: The fires of hell were advancing where I stood on the 98th Floor. Well can you imagine my terror when I came face to face with the flames. I don’t know why I chose as I did; Souls in torment can never explain. The day of my death predetermined, but which death would provide me less pain?. My choice, which was no “choice” at all was to smash through the window and fall. Then the only thing that could “save” me was the camera that captured it all
0
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
The Falling Man, a poem of 9-11
When I saw her The first woman with the first wide eyes Bright and light and dark and deep With life and mystery My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum And the first song was sung In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago When I first breathed that first scent My sight stopped My mind stopped My mind was my body and my hands and my gut And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time And it slowed down like an ice age beginning Then it melted into warm fire Where it burned The first touch of the first woman Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart The spark from the start of her heart beat Crossed through the fibers and Traveled down the pathways of her body Down the chemical electric synapses Through her arm and jumped across to my hand And traveled up and started a new beat It was a faster, and stronger beat And it beat And it beat Like the first dance, Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet Oh the first woman was all women And then there were other women And they were people Flesh and blood And minds and thoughts And feelings that I could not feel Good and bad and indifferent With hangups and problems Blemishes and baggage I met women coming Women going Here and there Now and then For coffee, for beer, One evening or ten I met scientists, nurses bartenders and baristas. Living lives I didn't mind Giving time when it was mine Asking for things I couldn't find Then I saw You All of you In time and space and speed I caught the scent of you Your fragrance and perfume And the primal musk of you That fatal lusts allure I felt you The gravity of your body from across the room Your electro-magnetic force pulling Pressure of the displaced particles pushing As you walked so slowly towards me And time stopped Light and sound and movement were captured Captive to your hypnotic sway Prisoner to your power over my perception You moved through the still air And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed The world was quiet And then it pounded   The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it As you moved closer, Like ride of the Valkyries Rising and crashing in waves It rose as you moved towards me You carried it in your wake And then it was a crescendo A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes As you stopped a few feet from me And time was stopped You were the first woman You were all women You are The only woman
0
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
The First Woman
When I saw her The first woman with the first wide eyes Bright and light and dark and deep With life and mystery My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum And the first song was sung In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago When I first breathed that first scent My sight stopped My mind stopped My mind was my body and my hands and my gut And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time And it slowed down like an ice age beginning Then it melted into warm fire Where it burned The first touch of the first woman Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart The spark from the start of her heart beat Crossed through the fibers and Traveled down the pathways of her body Down the chemical electric synapses Through her arm and jumped across to my hand And traveled up and started a new beat It was a faster, and stronger beat And it beat And it beat Like the first dance, Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet Oh the first woman was all women And then there were other women And they were people Flesh and blood And minds and thoughts And feelings that I could not feel Good and bad and indifferent With hangups and problems Blemishes and baggage I met women coming Women going Here and there Now and then For coffee, for beer, One evening or ten I met scientists, nurses bartenders and baristas. Living lives I didn't mind Giving time when it was mine Asking for things I couldn't find Then I saw You All of you In time and space and speed I caught the scent of you Your fragrance and perfume And the primal musk of you That fatal lusts allure I felt you The gravity of your body from across the room Your electro-magnetic force pulling Pressure of the displaced particles pushing As you walked so slowly towards me And time stopped Light and sound and movement were captured Captive to your hypnotic sway Prisoner to your power over my perception You moved through the still air And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed The world was quiet And then it pounded   The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it As you moved closer, Like ride of the Valkyries Rising and crashing in waves It rose as you moved towards me You carried it in your wake And then it was a crescendo A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes As you stopped a few feet from me And time was stopped You were the first woman You were all women You are The only woman
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86
Once upon a time, Is how this story shall start. There lived a mermaid princess, That captured this mans heart. Her hair was of purple, And then changed to a shade of blue. This was the mans favorite color, I assure you that is true. Their first true sign of affection, Begun with a playful kiss. In the centre of the universe, Quite impossible to miss. He absolutely loved her hair, And her gorgeously starry eyes. The color of the ocean - blue, So naturally no surprise. One day whilst talking, About unicorns and magic. He told her that life before, Was miserable and tragic. And gave to her his heart, Confessed that the rumors were indeed true. He was the man and her the mermaid princess, And told her "I love you".
0
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 1:39 AM UTC
The Mermaid Princess
Being held in your embrace, Your head against my chest. How could you wonder why, I love this so so much? It's gentle security against the: Mind that claws itself every day, People sparring against our hope, Tumultuous times this life gives. An act of love, of friendship, Compassion and closeness. You are my companion, A joy unrivalled in my life. Everything said here, Is captured in a perfect act: Our arms wrapping around, Bodies pressed together. Your hugs. My hugs.
0
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
Your Hugs
I hate Science I hate Technology Neither Am I Orthodox Nor I am Fool I am not a ***** But still I choose to hate Science and Technology Both gave us many things I remember, there was a time I worshipped both of them They produced machines for us They produced robots for us Machines started building Homes, Bridges and Flyovers Machines helped us in Food and Cloth Production Milk and Silk Production And Blah Blah Blah Blah They made our life easier They made our life safer They provided better security They provided better tools They made our life longer They made our life smarter They gave us rays of hope They promised much more They promised more Freedom They Promised Leisure Time They promised better Environment They promised clean Air, Water, Soil They Promised Harmony and Peace They Promised Equality for All Both Science and Technology Progressed exponentially day by day But something went wrong Someone captured them Hijacked them and misused By applying their ***** minds We still have Machines and Robots We still have Logic and Skills But where is Freedom and Peace? Where is the clean Environment? Where is clean Water, Air and Soil? Where is the promised Leisure Time? Now we also have Nuclear Bombs We have weapons of mass ****** We have smart tools for our Extinction We have weapons of mass Destructions Robots are being transformed From Robots to Human Beings Humans are being transformed From Human Beings to Machines Yes Slavery is back in the Game Machines have enslaved Humans Robots have been granted Citizenship and Civil Rights Machines have been made ready Ready to wage war against humans The question is who is the culprit? Is it Science and Technology? No. Not at all. I know this very well But I still hate Science and Technology The real culprits are the hungry Capitalists Who captured, hijacked and misused Science and the Technology for their greed Though they have all the things they need Science and the Technology easily surrendered and allowed themselves to be used for their greed This is why I Hate Science and Technology I also hate Capitalism and Capitalists too But I have a big question for Myself. I still doubt - "Can I really live without Science and Technology"
0
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 8:02 AM UTC
I Hate Science And Technology
I hate Science I hate Technology Neither Am I Orthodox Nor I am Fool I am not a ***** But still I choose to hate Science and Technology Both gave us many things I remember, there was a time I worshipped both of them They produced machines for us They produced robots for us Machines started building Homes, Bridges and Flyovers Machines helped us in Food and Cloth Production Milk and Silk Production And Blah Blah Blah Blah They made our life easier They made our life safer They provided better security They provided better tools They made our life longer They made our life smarter They gave us rays of hope They promised much more They promised more Freedom They Promised Leisure Time They promised better Environment They promised clean Air, Water, Soil They Promised Harmony and Peace They Promised Equality for All Both Science and Technology Progressed exponentially day by day But something went wrong Someone captured them Hijacked them and misused By applying their ***** minds We still have Machines and Robots We still have Logic and Skills But where is Freedom and Peace? Where is the clean Environment? Where is clean Water, Air and Soil? Where is the promised Leisure Time? Now we also have Nuclear Bombs We have weapons of mass ****** We have smart tools for our Extinction We have weapons of mass Destructions Robots are being transformed From Robots to Human Beings Humans are being transformed From Human Beings to Machines Yes Slavery is back in the Game Machines have enslaved Humans Robots have been granted Citizenship and Civil Rights Machines have been made ready Ready to wage war against humans The question is who is the culprit? Is it Science and Technology? No. Not at all. I know this very well But I still hate Science and Technology The real culprits are the hungry Capitalists Who captured, hijacked and misused Science and the Technology for their greed Though they have all the things they need Science and the Technology easily surrendered and allowed themselves to be used for their greed This is why I Hate Science and Technology I also hate Capitalism and Capitalists too But I have a big question for Myself. I still doubt - "Can I really live without Science and Technology"
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72
closeness evades touch baited moments now captured loneliness stares back
0
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
closeness evades touch(senryu)
Today not all of our mistakes are failures Today I'm closing the door on the things we keep behind our teeth, the ways we never learned how to be soft, but always tried our best anyway this is a tribute to the lost sleep the nights I keep marked in tallies on my arms, the letters I keep locked up in a dark drawer, where maybe something besides moths and regret will eat away at them. Today, not all of our thoughts are broken today you take me out of my skin and I learn how to dance; the rhythm is choppy but I follow it anyway, after all we are only testing the waters here we are only stargazers awaiting some grand cosmic miracle, we are waiting with our hands in our pockets for something big to happen, we are falling in and out of obsession chasing strangers around and around in circles, throwing our fists in the air claiming "not everything is lost", slowly coming to the realization that it's also true not everything is found. Today you don't know what you're looking for but you can't stop searching the horizon, like maybe if you peer long enough, your brain will slow down enough to process the harsh thump-thump, thump-thump that tells you you're still alive that tells you you're still here that tells you you're still waiting And my fingernails are digging into my palms now from the suspense of writing and re-writing my name onto fresh pages, crumpling and collecting them in the bottom of waste baskets along with half smoked cigarettes and last night's rain, because it is rare that two paths will cross in this world with anything more than a brief flash of recognition, it is rare that anything better can be captured before it slips down through the cracks; but that thought was me eons ago that was me in someone else's skin today I'm putting nets out to catch the things we throw around & never keep, I'm writing your story into my daily script & keeping a list of "to-dos" before the big event; tonight I'm alone and I'm too busy to look out the window, maybe the stars will flicker or maybe they won't, but regardless I'm still counting my heartbeats to know that I'm here (still counting my heartbeats to know the time I have left), I'm still patching this wound up with fragments of could have been, reminding myself that not all of our hearts are broken, and not all of our moments are failures.
0
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
not everything is broken
Today not all of our mistakes are failures Today I'm closing the door on the things we keep behind our teeth, the ways we never learned how to be soft, but always tried our best anyway this is a tribute to the lost sleep the nights I keep marked in tallies on my arms, the letters I keep locked up in a dark drawer, where maybe something besides moths and regret will eat away at them. Today, not all of our thoughts are broken today you take me out of my skin and I learn how to dance; the rhythm is choppy but I follow it anyway, after all we are only testing the waters here we are only stargazers awaiting some grand cosmic miracle, we are waiting with our hands in our pockets for something big to happen, we are falling in and out of obsession chasing strangers around and around in circles, throwing our fists in the air claiming "not everything is lost", slowly coming to the realization that it's also true not everything is found. Today you don't know what you're looking for but you can't stop searching the horizon, like maybe if you peer long enough, your brain will slow down enough to process the harsh thump-thump, thump-thump that tells you you're still alive that tells you you're still here that tells you you're still waiting And my fingernails are digging into my palms now from the suspense of writing and re-writing my name onto fresh pages, crumpling and collecting them in the bottom of waste baskets along with half smoked cigarettes and last night's rain, because it is rare that two paths will cross in this world with anything more than a brief flash of recognition, it is rare that anything better can be captured before it slips down through the cracks; but that thought was me eons ago that was me in someone else's skin today I'm putting nets out to catch the things we throw around & never keep, I'm writing your story into my daily script & keeping a list of "to-dos" before the big event; tonight I'm alone and I'm too busy to look out the window, maybe the stars will flicker or maybe they won't, but regardless I'm still counting my heartbeats to know that I'm here (still counting my heartbeats to know the time I have left), I'm still patching this wound up with fragments of could have been, reminding myself that not all of our hearts are broken, and not all of our moments are failures.
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62
*The time had come for two hearts to go their own way. 
 It wasn’t sad; it wasn’t angry; just profoundly honest;* In the whirlwind of young life Their love sudden He blew her away She caught his breath The lust explosive Captivated by each others touch Living the dream Fancy London apartment Chanel and Bottega Veneta Cap D Antibes Woke to keys of an MG Squealed with delighted ***** and Wine Yet in the depth of this life Fighting to be free To own their souls Losing sight of love The power of another life Kept them chained In the birth of her breath It came to an end *The legacy off their passion A sparkling spirit In the shadow of that spirit Never to know The geniuses of Her soul No captured memories His dying voice Silent to her life*
0
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Young Life
*Let me be captured by the night. Engrossed in the conversation between the stars. Syncopated twinkling like... thousands of fireflies trapped within sealed jars. Let me be enslaved by the moon. As I drink her glow in greedy insatiable gulps. Crestfallen... Her beam with an agenda... As the landscape she sculpts. Let me be ensnared by my solitude. But I hear crickets... Chirping and chipping away at my bastion of dreamstate. Persistent calls I try to shun that never abates. Let me be trapped in my thoughts. So I could harness... And immortalise them in indelible careless scribbles. Erecting and... Rebuilding them from the rubble of conflicting squabbles. **Let me be overwhelmed by the mess of my being...** Let me wallow Then emerge strong from this decrepit state of mind. Let me breathe heavy from my punctured lungs. So I could heal in time before true solace in this dark, I would find.*
0
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
Captured
Tattoo's on the skin tell a story they hide a lot of sin. They tell of personal pain and personal truth. A person's journey may told by the tattoo's on their skin. Triumphs, truths,lies and love are tattoo's on skin. Even though the tattoo isn't visible doesn't mean it isn't there. Life is a like a tattoo it comes in many forms and shapes just like people. The colors vivid as blood and ink mix together in a dance intertwined,the script and symbols captured. All of us are marked, we are unique, we burn with life that is our own personal tattoo. Inked onto flesh is special meaning frozen in time now there for life. Unfolding into all i am and will be the ink that is there tattooed on my skin, Is there for the world to see. Written 3rd June 2014
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Tattoo on my Skin
. I have seen her playing With light, edging her hair, In crescents so fair. I have watched her fingers Twirl and twine, beaming gold, Threshing precious hold. I have witnessed the taming Of the sun's rays, captured, Spinning in rapture. And I feel for the pale moon Who offers his frail, vestige light, While she sleeps at night.
0
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 12:59 PM UTC
Sun and Moon