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"celibate" poems
Are you listening to the whispers? are you feeling scandalised? Harbouring ***** little feelings that you wanna sanitise? Walk through the swinging doors of a catholic franchise Ask em for that sailors knot a black-n-white man-ties To the pairs of prying eyes his practical rebuke Is a marital disguise and a tactical puke Throw the garter ‘mongst the pigeons, the voluntary victims... Whose single minds are filled with matrimonial conviction Paired up poets pool their miseries; the price of art Each miserable synergy - the sum of its parts Did he swear that he’d hold you ever dear to his heart? To love and to cherish til your knees did part? If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another? There she stands on ceremony all silk and sinew While the vow evicted from his Adam’s apple continues To stutter as the panic builds like stifled farts Til it splutters its devotions on her lady parts Her eyes sentence you to sit though your neck-hairs stand She’s the ****** ****** written in the lines on your palm Old scores squeeze sideways through her gritted teeth And he takes on the debt of every promise she believed Hide the love-bites in a polo-neck, your love life in a Rolodex When the ***** hand of happen-stance runs its evil down your keks Cos like the indelible digits on your bathroom mirror Love is for life until you dress it with liquor If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another? We are but experiments, seven billion shades of wrong The clever ones stay celibate, the others pass it on That’s an easy line to settle-on in present company Single-riders in the peloton to pick up the debris
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Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
(You Will in Your) Holy Matrimony
Are you listening to the whispers? are you feeling scandalised? Harbouring ***** little feelings that you wanna sanitise? Walk through the swinging doors of a catholic franchise Ask em for that sailors knot a black-n-white man-ties To the pairs of prying eyes his practical rebuke Is a marital disguise and a tactical puke Throw the garter ‘mongst the pigeons, the voluntary victims... Whose single minds are filled with matrimonial conviction Paired up poets pool their miseries; the price of art Each miserable synergy - the sum of its parts Did he swear that he’d hold you ever dear to his heart? To love and to cherish til your knees did part? If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another? There she stands on ceremony all silk and sinew While the vow evicted from his Adam’s apple continues To stutter as the panic builds like stifled farts Til it splutters its devotions on her lady parts Her eyes sentence you to sit though your neck-hairs stand She’s the ****** ****** written in the lines on your palm Old scores squeeze sideways through her gritted teeth And he takes on the debt of every promise she believed Hide the love-bites in a polo-neck, your love life in a Rolodex When the ***** hand of happen-stance runs its evil down your keks Cos like the indelible digits on your bathroom mirror Love is for life until you dress it with liquor If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another? We are but experiments, seven billion shades of wrong The clever ones stay celibate, the others pass it on That’s an easy line to settle-on in present company Single-riders in the peloton to pick up the debris
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32
Love, the world Suddenly turns, turns color. The streetlight Splits through the rat's tail Pods of the laburnum at nine in the morning. It is the Arctic, This little black Circle, with its tawn silk grasses - babies hair. There is a green in the air, Soft, delectable. It cushions me lovingly. I am flushed and warm. I think I may be enormous, I am so stupidly happy, My Wellingtons Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red. This is my property. Two times a day I pace it, sniffing The barbarous holly with its viridian Scallops, pure iron, And the wall of the odd corpses. I love them. I love them like history. The apples are golden, Imagine it ---- My seventy trees Holding their gold-ruddy ***** In a thick gray death-soup, Their million Gold leaves metal and breathless. O love, O celibate. Nobody but me Walks the waist high wet. The irreplaceable Golds bleed and deepen, the mouths of Thermopylae.
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22.9k
Letter In November
When the sun is down The moon comes around to try & hug her Night & day are lovers Forever chasing each other An endless endeavour like no other They are meant for one another Hiding their feelings behind the Earth's cover During dusk & dawn, they blend their colours It's their love they utter The moon adores the sun more during summer In awe of her in her element Surrounded by stars, he stays celibate Astounded by her being above par Far above, yet still with benevolence No one comes close, they're irrelevant Shines so bright, she must be heaven sent
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Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 6:54 PM UTC
Sun & Moon lovers
Silver skies, tranquil nights Gently gazing down from afar Silver rooftops, twinkling lights Buried deep among the stars Silver memories paint silver portraits Hung from my interior walls Silver melodies, not unfortunate I hear, my name, it calls Silver teardrops stain my cheeks Making melancholy of innocence Silver snowstorms, heartache's peak An evocative and celibate synthesis Silver dreams, silver eyes Meet silver nights, tranquil skies
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Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
A Very Sonnet
Words and letters are written on walls Some as vandalization others as messages Words and letters are written on walls Words and sentences are written on billboards Some serve as advertising others to arouse awareness Words and sentences are written on billboards Words and paragraphs are written on my brain Some serve as inspiration others to support guidance Words and paragraphs are written on my brain Words are the weapons I use in a society that controls my image Words are the only thing that can divide me from being ghetto or educated My words are the only thing that I can vouch for like my ***** My words are the root of the intelligence that propels this sentence Letters in my words stand close to each other eager to make a statement If I do not show my words, my letters of cheerfulness begin to fade away Sentences are the compound of the mind that begs to be understood Sentences are made up of a tyranny chained down by a trendsetters mood My sentences contain verbs, nouns, adjectives and subjects that explain a lost purpose My sentences define the meaning of an ironical imagery that leads me to dream Sentences paint a picture that any blind character can see If I do not paint my sentences how will I ever show my brains art gallery Picasso used the paint brush to express his moods and feelings on a canvas Shakespeare and Allan Poe used ink to utter their thoughts on a sheet of paper Somewhere in my mind the collision of words and paint occurred Where I fused the essence of writing with the masterfulness of painting My words and sentences have met a significant other called paint Paint and words are my new best friend Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls Some are called vandalization while they represent artistic skills Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls Paint and words are written on subways So the eyes of the young and old can see the traveling message Paint and words are written on subways Paint and words smack up at my face So that the world sees who conveys this message Paint and words smack up at my face Paint gives visual to what words cannot picture My Paint serves as a method of expressing the mind’s tears and smiles My Paint becomes a tour guide through the loops of divine wonders Paint is just a stepping stone to the magnificent path of beauty A brush is just a brush depending on who holds it A brush is like the keyboard I constantly battle with to unleash my mind A brush can combine negativity and positivity and make peace A brush unites celibate beliefs with those whom are perverse Words and sentences along with paint and brushes help explain my motive Jonathan Pizarro Lost Cause © 2011 April 17th, 2011
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Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 12:42 AM UTC
Words and Paint
Words and letters are written on walls Some as vandalization others as messages Words and letters are written on walls Words and sentences are written on billboards Some serve as advertising others to arouse awareness Words and sentences are written on billboards Words and paragraphs are written on my brain Some serve as inspiration others to support guidance Words and paragraphs are written on my brain Words are the weapons I use in a society that controls my image Words are the only thing that can divide me from being ghetto or educated My words are the only thing that I can vouch for like my ***** My words are the root of the intelligence that propels this sentence Letters in my words stand close to each other eager to make a statement If I do not show my words, my letters of cheerfulness begin to fade away Sentences are the compound of the mind that begs to be understood Sentences are made up of a tyranny chained down by a trendsetters mood My sentences contain verbs, nouns, adjectives and subjects that explain a lost purpose My sentences define the meaning of an ironical imagery that leads me to dream Sentences paint a picture that any blind character can see If I do not paint my sentences how will I ever show my brains art gallery Picasso used the paint brush to express his moods and feelings on a canvas Shakespeare and Allan Poe used ink to utter their thoughts on a sheet of paper Somewhere in my mind the collision of words and paint occurred Where I fused the essence of writing with the masterfulness of painting My words and sentences have met a significant other called paint Paint and words are my new best friend Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls Some are called vandalization while they represent artistic skills Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls Paint and words are written on subways So the eyes of the young and old can see the traveling message Paint and words are written on subways Paint and words smack up at my face So that the world sees who conveys this message Paint and words smack up at my face Paint gives visual to what words cannot picture My Paint serves as a method of expressing the mind’s tears and smiles My Paint becomes a tour guide through the loops of divine wonders Paint is just a stepping stone to the magnificent path of beauty A brush is just a brush depending on who holds it A brush is like the keyboard I constantly battle with to unleash my mind A brush can combine negativity and positivity and make peace A brush unites celibate beliefs with those whom are perverse Words and sentences along with paint and brushes help explain my motive Jonathan Pizarro Lost Cause © 2011 April 17th, 2011
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I became celibate quite a few years ago only in part because of religious reasons but probably mostly because the *** was so bad so after I became celibate and after much meditation I experienced a new kind of *** for me, these internal ******* from kundalini flow and to me, it is better than regular *** and I have it much more frequently like entire days of ****** so that sometimes I think that I am not celibate but actually have become a bit too promiscuous.
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Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC
Promiscuous Celibacy
Glacier, Flake Time Crystal Collective Mass Gravity, Flow Breaking Celibate Monastic Oath In This Cathedral Tower Bedrock Cracking Groans Moans Under Exponential Cave Crush Crevasse Plowing Scoring Tearing Mush Melt Calving Diving Block By Block Headlong Into Wave Reflecting Clouds.
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Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 9:04 PM UTC
Glacier
You look at me. I look at you. The heat rises. Arousal is overpowering. The nausea begins. You ask, ‘Shall we?’ And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time; Going against my celibacy of a year, Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday, Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you. I sit on your lap. I feel your hard on in between my thighs. I rhythmically move with closed eyes. Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls. I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter. Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open ***** I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on. Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood. Suddenly, I become faster than you. I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips. You pause. I don’t see you no more. I heat up. I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and  nibbling it for what seemed to be forever, Until I choked. Paused. The clothes are gone. And you pulled me by my hair. Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance  of your rugged beard, Of your sour kiss, And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts. And a million more thrusts. After an eternity of an endless void, It pulsated inside. I felt a mild tingle. Nothing much. Nothing heavy. Nothing shivering, to me. To you as well. It seemed strange. And then you were out. And then you were gone. I dripped. I dried. I spilled. And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life, Again. Because you grow upper, and upper, You forgot to make love. You forgot to kiss me. You forgot to look into my eyes. You forgot to caress my hips. You forgot to clench your nails into my neck Because the ground does not move anymore. To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me, Because there is no more passion left of this copulation. This coitus is a blank frustration and none more. It is just a routine now. It will just be a routine again. I swallow the pink-butterfly pill. And I know, that this nausea This arousal Will enslave me the next time as well. And next time too, It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void, Feeling the tingle in my crotch, Awaiting a warmth, Tingles, and all the other fantasies. I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle, And you will too. We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
Everything simply grows older, duller and Dimmer, Even *******
You look at me. I look at you. The heat rises. Arousal is overpowering. The nausea begins. You ask, ‘Shall we?’ And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time; Going against my celibacy of a year, Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday, Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you. I sit on your lap. I feel your hard on in between my thighs. I rhythmically move with closed eyes. Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls. I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter. Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open ***** I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on. Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood. Suddenly, I become faster than you. I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips. You pause. I don’t see you no more. I heat up. I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and  nibbling it for what seemed to be forever, Until I choked. Paused. The clothes are gone. And you pulled me by my hair. Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance  of your rugged beard, Of your sour kiss, And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts. And a million more thrusts. After an eternity of an endless void, It pulsated inside. I felt a mild tingle. Nothing much. Nothing heavy. Nothing shivering, to me. To you as well. It seemed strange. And then you were out. And then you were gone. I dripped. I dried. I spilled. And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life, Again. Because you grow upper, and upper, You forgot to make love. You forgot to kiss me. You forgot to look into my eyes. You forgot to caress my hips. You forgot to clench your nails into my neck Because the ground does not move anymore. To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me, Because there is no more passion left of this copulation. This coitus is a blank frustration and none more. It is just a routine now. It will just be a routine again. I swallow the pink-butterfly pill. And I know, that this nausea This arousal Will enslave me the next time as well. And next time too, It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void, Feeling the tingle in my crotch, Awaiting a warmth, Tingles, and all the other fantasies. I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle, And you will too. We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.
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The kids chemically induced Reduced to ego threnody. Amidst chaos he possessed influence. Would disregard coincidence And curse at the omnipotent. Known as lonely pessimist Could laugh at their own ignorance. Pops was drunk. Waved goodbye to any kind of innocence. Patronized Sympathized Irrelevant Sunk below the sediment. If humans could be celibate This death would have ended it Instead of only him.
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Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 10:01 AM UTC
Pro Choice Aborted Fetuses
"Notice me Senpai" Something that started as a joke But now it's just fact But if you try to tell me that You were just kidding I will take my bidding I'm the winner of the prize Oh yes I am Wisemen of the wise You were always my favorite I was always celibate You said I was full of it Maybe in the moshpit Say my name No not that one Say the one you say to me When you're lonely Say the one that will tame The one that my heart won
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Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
A Text
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, ******** ********* Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive! This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom You've really ****** the naval officer And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer Telescopic hindward the lump Uranus Arsenic is scatological And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo And I think my sputnik knows which direction to **** Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom? Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom? Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom? Can you... From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum Telescopic hindward the groupie Uranus Arsenic is scatological And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
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Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
******* Type Transvestite
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, ******** ********* Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive! This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom You've really ****** the naval officer And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer Telescopic hindward the lump Uranus Arsenic is scatological And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo And I think my sputnik knows which direction to **** Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom? Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom? Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom? Can you... From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum Telescopic hindward the groupie Uranus Arsenic is scatological And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
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mind frozen                    body tense I keep telling myself that I care about spiritual growth but **** it all to hell                              i want to be close in the biblical sense somewhere there's bumpin' and grindin' happening this very minute. intimacy intimacy, i tell myself feel my feelings i've been numb to my ****** feelings i get all this, but sometimes ****** thoughts and feeling hit me so hard.                          i don't know what to do with them, they just mess up my head. i want serenity.         i want peace.               i want some wisdom in all this. i am not a monk.       i do not want to be celibate,                                             but **** I don't want to be overwhelmed either. For now I am embracing my *** crazed thoughts, but not acting on them.                 i am more than my thoughts and feelings.                                                   i am.
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Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
*** crazed
It can be Frustrating to look so mean When Success presents your Certificate And Honest Fans some to most turn so Green When their Tangent Voices are celibate Now my only Say to unsoak the Blame Is when that Sponge within Speaks without Words You know it as HEART; That Character sane, Serene discharge of Flavoured Bees and Birds Even when Flowers rebel and Worms spit Still your Compassion can embrace them all Believe this: In, to Out, Around and Fit Past the Royal Egg survive a Great Fall. It's been there in you; And all of this Time My Lesson to learn from Wise Owls behind.
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Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - EIGHT - TOM DALEY
Joy stayed with me a night-- Young and free and fair-- And in the morning light He left me there. Then Sorrow came to stay, And lay upon my breast He walked with me in the day. And knew me best. I'll never be a bride, Nor yet celibate, So I'm living now with Pride-- A cold bedmate. He must not hear nor see, Nor could he forgive That Sorrow still visits me Each day I live.
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3.7k
Light Of Love
Lust is a sin everyone will enjoy, from the bums in the courtyard, mingling and thrusting ***** privates, to the chaste; to you and me, and celibate, The celibate lust for self-recognition, for their gods, for a higher purpose, To strive is to lust and to lust, it is only human to lust for comfort, for control, for order. Goals of every sect are prized, Sought after are the lusts that guide us, that energize the batteries in our backs, tells us to do crazy things, some promote devastation.
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
LUST
Just feel don't know Need love want hope End up all alone End up in a retirement home Taste heart smell sun Dance shake shimmy fun Run into guy with a gun Run in the convent be a nun Worship jesus worship god Hate the devil hate the rod Celibate and frozen solid No one ever sees your *** Age wrinkle die alone Empty heart empty throne Wasted life on fake credo Now you die, now you go
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May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
rhythmic verse i
Proud to be celibate and writing "not" from a place called "be ashamed".   Touchy subject and taboo to most, this discussion of abstinence. For me it's about keeping most intimate physical part of my being, untouched by man until heart joins in marriage to the one I love. Not judging lifestyle choices or anyone who makes personal decisions based upon their own beliefs and what they feel is right for them. Times I've been in love? Proud to say, I can count on only "one" hand. My body "is" my temple and all parts to be shared only with my true love.
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
Celibacy til Love
Recently I've grown to see the weakness in my mind. I'm challenged by the ordinary resentment I always find. For I have the great power to forgive and be forgiven, but I am lacking in drive and manner, of which this action can be taken. I will call myself a blamer upon myself and many others my hopeless romantic is a failure but the lack of hope is from my lovers they caress control and swindle and leave me broken poor and ****** it leaves the torn up hard to mingle and the forgotten hard to miss. So I'll take stock in my conquests, despite how little they may be, I will be reborn a celibate and set my libido free. Nothing good belongs in deviance, sinful, ****** or more, I will retain what is left of my innocence and forget all from before.
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Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 12:45 PM UTC
****** Deviance
Start with a tin box guitar— plucking tortured notes like he’s known this kind of agony all his life. Stretching bluesy licks that bend and overlap— braiding every bunch of heart strings. We listen. Tune into something that seems to be cooing fluently in a language only the involuntary celibate can speak. No, we’re not getting any. But at least we get this.
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
songs to be sexually frustrated to
Sister, I've been to your chambers, I've seen that Holy Bible Kept ***** with your tomes. I know that you're secretly A nun, or a Catholic schoolgirl. But that's impossible, Because I've never seen you Flustered pink like A fragile glass of Lemonade On a thirsty, Sinful, Sabbath day. You can't be celibate. You are way too beautiful for that. And such beauty left to waste Is proof enough that my God is Absent. He is spending His time Dodging deadlines to watch Every move you make. There are always Judgments to be made. I beg of you, Cleanse this ***** Get on your knees and pray, But do it slowly. Kiss the shaft of your Savior Renounce your title to Him So we can both go to Heaven. You might think I'm just a mongrel, Filthy in the eyes and mind. Love is a pearl born from nature, And yours is due to be polished. -Juan Carlos Gomez
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Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 2:04 AM UTC
Hot Nuns
I ate your spinach because it was there and you, like an anorexic rabbit, ignored it, and motioned to my plate. You said, *How can you go on living like a priest in a ********** Temptation after temptation, yet still you stay celibate, your tissues clean of ***** your hands folded above the waist, as calloused as your traveled feet.* When does the bird fall it's offspring from the nest in a spring with a shortage of worms?
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Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:22 PM UTC
Defining Reasons
It is a pleasant place to lie, amidst a copse of Olive trees. The tears of muses, never dried, have effaced the writing from your stone. These hills about once knew your step, your strong and confident poet’s stride. Robert, the Royal Fusilier, Once thought dead, but you’d survived. Your home is a museum now, Your Black Cordoban hangs on the wall. I step into the little den where you finally said farewell to all. Looking out your window I Espy a naked maiden flee. Skin starkly white with Golden hair- The White goddess? Could it be? At any rate, a comely lass, Beauty to whet a poet’s pen I’ve heard you were inspired thus by lovely muses, now and then. Your domestic arrangements Were quite strange; celibate infidelity. I’ll admit that’s one I haven’t tried. Nor would I like to, honestly. But your genius can’t be ignored. by honest literary men. I’ve spend hours in Ancient Rome transported by your fertile pen. Farewell Robert, Beryl too You knew he’d be yours at the end. Muses fuel a poet’s pen But cannot love as wives may do.
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Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Deia, Majorca
I've been looking at the world from a different perspective IG filters and Snapchat interceptions I was off the grid,  I am now in inception Social media dance floors no escape or exceptions what do you stand for? put your hands in the septic so your arms can take all the **** that Your legs normally dealt with Apartment, complex complicated life consequences Brothers life deciphered into the trenches Despite all of the help we lent him Life can be a loan when you are alone It can get expensive Don't own a home, but I could show you what rent is I could show you what hustle is, I'm that relentless Slick mouth, silver tounge...this is manifested Bike peddling, rebelling Ambidextrous Quiet devilish, my medicine makes most hella lit I speak in crooked tongues like most nuns who settle with Being Singular minded there Vibes are so celibate A courier in this Corredor settlement How do I, in these times, stay not high but relevant I'm confined in thin lines, tell them **** time, if the sunshine, makes us dumb blind Like retail and it's details with the big signs See this conclusion is just a visual illusion A cesspool in the mainstream visual pollution This vortex is just a digital confusion Digits to acidic, hash tags for the lab rats to abuse them watch me slipstream into a hazmat suit and snap back to an audience all the toxics that I'm using my minds a clock incapsulated in the bottom of a backpack but only in math class, I state facts for your amusement How can you do this?! Who the **** are you kid?! I'm Duke Nukem with a scorpion fist ready to hiduken! I'm Isaac Newton with a paint brush when I do this Painting photosynthesis with my sentences, I conclude with... Nothing but a chronological order I cause a cascade of disorder I'm on the edge don't **** with me and my border...can't **** with me I'm the best this visual mess is what your ordered
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
Filtered Perspective
I've been looking at the world from a different perspective IG filters and Snapchat interceptions I was off the grid,  I am now in inception Social media dance floors no escape or exceptions what do you stand for? put your hands in the septic so your arms can take all the **** that Your legs normally dealt with Apartment, complex complicated life consequences Brothers life deciphered into the trenches Despite all of the help we lent him Life can be a loan when you are alone It can get expensive Don't own a home, but I could show you what rent is I could show you what hustle is, I'm that relentless Slick mouth, silver tounge...this is manifested Bike peddling, rebelling Ambidextrous Quiet devilish, my medicine makes most hella lit I speak in crooked tongues like most nuns who settle with Being Singular minded there Vibes are so celibate A courier in this Corredor settlement How do I, in these times, stay not high but relevant I'm confined in thin lines, tell them **** time, if the sunshine, makes us dumb blind Like retail and it's details with the big signs See this conclusion is just a visual illusion A cesspool in the mainstream visual pollution This vortex is just a digital confusion Digits to acidic, hash tags for the lab rats to abuse them watch me slipstream into a hazmat suit and snap back to an audience all the toxics that I'm using my minds a clock incapsulated in the bottom of a backpack but only in math class, I state facts for your amusement How can you do this?! Who the **** are you kid?! I'm Duke Nukem with a scorpion fist ready to hiduken! I'm Isaac Newton with a paint brush when I do this Painting photosynthesis with my sentences, I conclude with... Nothing but a chronological order I cause a cascade of disorder I'm on the edge don't **** with me and my border...can't **** with me I'm the best this visual mess is what your ordered
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he was forty but lied about his age, told everyone he looked young for his age, and still shopped at hot topic he is in late forties now, still thinks he looks young, and still shops at hot topic he buys the same stuff that people were buying in the 80's before hot topic existed he describes himself as having such a brilliant mind that he is easily bored with people. he is an intj, so this means that he knows everything. he is very intelligent according to the re-occuring craigslist misc. romance ads he has been posting for the last decade. when he gets inspired, he updates his fetlife profile (or his ok cupid profile) i met him when i was too alone, but not numb enough yet he kept on telling me that depressed people were really just narcissists who couldn't stop thinking about themselves i couldn't tolerate him, but had nothing else to do, so i had to be drunk and ****** at all times in his presence and i don't drink very often prior to that i was only a weekend stoner, but that changed real quick he made himself too comfortable and bought me a bob dobbs book for my birthday because he thought and still thinks bob dobbs is hilarious he kept on using my bathroom for long periods of time and bringing the bob dobbs book in with him every time i told him he could keep the bob dobbs book but he said, "no, it's more the kind of book that i want to read when i come over and use your bathroom" so i swallowed the throw up in my mouth, asked him to leave, threw the book away, and never had anything to do with him after that. shortly thereafter, he started diagnosing me and every other woman who is not attracted to him as having borderline personality disorder via craigslist missed connections and/or his fetlife profile (which i still read for laughs). then he broke into my apartment through the back door the night before he got married to a woman who needed a green card. i'm not sure why he did that, i'll never know. he broke the door, so it wouldn't shut properly anymore and i smashed my fingers in it once while trying to shut it. my fingernails fell off. and this is why i have been celibate for the last 7 and half years.
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Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
the intj who knew everything
he was forty but lied about his age, told everyone he looked young for his age, and still shopped at hot topic he is in late forties now, still thinks he looks young, and still shops at hot topic he buys the same stuff that people were buying in the 80's before hot topic existed he describes himself as having such a brilliant mind that he is easily bored with people. he is an intj, so this means that he knows everything. he is very intelligent according to the re-occuring craigslist misc. romance ads he has been posting for the last decade. when he gets inspired, he updates his fetlife profile (or his ok cupid profile) i met him when i was too alone, but not numb enough yet he kept on telling me that depressed people were really just narcissists who couldn't stop thinking about themselves i couldn't tolerate him, but had nothing else to do, so i had to be drunk and ****** at all times in his presence and i don't drink very often prior to that i was only a weekend stoner, but that changed real quick he made himself too comfortable and bought me a bob dobbs book for my birthday because he thought and still thinks bob dobbs is hilarious he kept on using my bathroom for long periods of time and bringing the bob dobbs book in with him every time i told him he could keep the bob dobbs book but he said, "no, it's more the kind of book that i want to read when i come over and use your bathroom" so i swallowed the throw up in my mouth, asked him to leave, threw the book away, and never had anything to do with him after that. shortly thereafter, he started diagnosing me and every other woman who is not attracted to him as having borderline personality disorder via craigslist missed connections and/or his fetlife profile (which i still read for laughs). then he broke into my apartment through the back door the night before he got married to a woman who needed a green card. i'm not sure why he did that, i'll never know. he broke the door, so it wouldn't shut properly anymore and i smashed my fingers in it once while trying to shut it. my fingernails fell off. and this is why i have been celibate for the last 7 and half years.
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26
U.S.A yes I am a resident Peace is forever relevant Especially in a warzone none of this is heaven sent Too many fatherless children too many are not celibate Waiting for the Lord not the anti-christ Many people embrace evil anti-right Like lets create on our own terms Sleep together watch a baby form from a egg and ***** A sad sight in the hood Grandma praying but her grandson selling white in the hood I recall folks asking me what's good That's was some years back When I sagged my slacks Embodied a stereotype young and black Black man mindset no not anymore My mind is not focused on it if its not the Lord So I don't focus my mind on things that are evil Evil is evil.. People are people So if you continue to lie to me I expect you to one day say bye to me I do not have nothing nice to say when I don't speak Smile when I feel like smiling ,yes I expose teeth Idk
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
Day 18: idk