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Aiden Williams Dec 2012
Life is naught but a gimmick,
Is taken for granted,
And is a means of society proclaimed glory and greatness.
We blame God for the things that are wrong with this world when it falls only on us.
Do you miss when times were simple,
The small things mattered,
Women took pride in being flattered
And men took pride in their approach to these women.
Where life was more than a means to please,
But was something that we knew couldn't be passed with ease.
There were no cheat codes back then, life wasn't a game
There was less of a need for us to rise to fame.
There was less of a need to have the next best thing,
And couples took more pride in a diamond ring.
Big brother wasn't watching us and we felt no need to be watching it,
There was no place on the street where black boys felt they should loiter and sit.
The sun seemed brighter and winter was when winter was,
A woman did not feel she should change to what a man is,
They were quite content in keeping their vaginas.
Was it the fault of the hierarchy top
That gave the choice for them to just stop
Being what they're supposed to be
Or was it always in wanting and just I did not see.
Music was better; back then it had more meaning
To this day I still wonder what happened to it,
I think a few more years for more real music I'll be feening.
What happened to TV,
Cartoon Network,
BBC,
ITV,
What foolishness is on nowadays,
Made for us to judge other people on their looks,
Their talents and skills,
But let's see,
Who are we to look down on others who try,
Look down on yourself,
And about yourself just try not to lie.
What happened to game?
It seems that these days,
All we need is a pin not a key to the heart.
People claming to be in love,
But do you know what love is?
New girlfriend tomorrow,
Did you sign up to have kids?
What happened to love?
Not just for man but for God?
Do you not remember how He came through when you lost?
When you were alone,
Lust for life was but memory,
How you came through but thought it was on your own?
What happened to the world,
Tell me if you had a little girl,
Would you treat her like a pen,
Let her be used by whoever would ask,
Discard her once done with knowing she wouldn't last.
Or treat her like a flower in the desert,
Treasure and savour with hope it will last,
With love and a prayer,
That this moment is forever.
DAVID Nov 2015
the ferocious coithus interrupted,
for that look, of a feline woman
of lioness on fire

your body,  screaming for the
placer, hidden in your own
body.

claming for a lascivious touch,
looking for me to wip you
tiernamente.

and then love you in silence.

the feroucious torsion, of
your body, touching
mine.

the litlle fire, become
explosion, in your gutts, of,
feline woman.

your roaring for my bite,
then you stay quiet,
looking silent.

for that loved beast,
to ******* in the dark,
as a good girl, wanting
danger.

and the equinoctial touch,
becomes plaseant.

as if the pain and the lost,
where the exquisite consecuense,
of being wath you are,
a lioness.

a goddess biting the dust,
between the lost and the
exquisit, of your fall,
of your humanisation.

being lost you find your center,
your lioness, roaring,
oh loved beast.

lost in the estertors,
of your insides, on fire,
and between that fire,
you found her.

your lioness, your leopard,
wild beautiful,
and serene,
adored, loved,
free,
  mine.

my leopard.
mi lioness on fire, wanting my lasivious touch, only on you, c'est tout, c'est tout.
WiltingMoon Mar 2021
I ache,
I scream,
But never shall you see nor hear.
Voices in my head crack and break,
But you will never hear me stutter when i speak.
Its a cures to be able to remember the past,
To remember the thoughts.
The details of those night alone.
The wall felling like they are closing in ready to crush what little strength i held close.
A life time i thought the voices would take, claming it as there own, never to let me or anyone else forget.
Almost I handed it to them on a platter made of fear and tears.
Almost did walk to the place where i would never be found again.
Almost...
That life time is still going strong.
Those voice tho still present, not as loud.
And the aches and the screams are still felt and heard,
But...
Washed away by the light, the little strength that was left.
Slowly... finding peace in life.
coffeee klonopin bagel ecigarette claming nuturing sunny sunny sunny, more coffee what was it I was thinking?  Didn't use the cream cheese no shower hair pomade and bruhsed teeth rolling stones did I miss something?  Set yet still yearing, stomach full yet still grumbling...
Sinkk the teeth into the passing loops and let it drag you all the way
Jan C Nov 2020
Is this a show?
Looking for someone I know.
I saw you across the room.
My heart went boom.

Don't mind me here,
I'm far yet near.
Close to my heart,
Realized we're apart.

You shot me with an arrow.
I thought it's from a cupids bow.
Claming it was you,
You don't love me do you?
Mr Shakya Dec 7
In the sky there is a smoke
which having shape and having form
there is an eye beside another
which has a nose beside a mouth
having a face making a smile but changing smile into a guile,,
but making the guile only to smile,,
this smile is fake 'cause having guile,,
it having smiling on the face
to hide the moaning in the face
says-" having smile I own the face
I want to smile hence own the face"

it as long as owning the face,
has to own even menace, even this mess,,,
making a case,,
in the menace, now owns the case,,
making it harder to efface,,
the smoky haze facing the case,
but it's very soothing to embrace
the smoky face,,
for claming smile,it seeks as face ,,
now has the power of its haze,
(to)declare the rest of the haze,,
as not it's face,, not the same face,as something else,,
which shows this mess of its own case,,
confining grace, Lonesome to face ,,
making a border, for only bother,
wider and broader,, clinging on smother,,
Being a vile in the same guile,,
Just for a smile,,
Making itself as something else,,
Having its cause in its own grab,
Making cases uttering blab
Depending on rest,in messy haste,
Taking as true, as if a guest,,
Itself a guest,in hazy haste,
And the rest,as not a chaste,
Now the non-chaste, being taken for a taste,
Why for taste?
For Whose taste?
Isn't still in haste?
Innocent guest,,
To lick and touch,
In its own clutch,
Which says the face,
I'm the owner ,
To efface,the smother in the border in its case,
Now to consume,
Because of Assume,
For just resume, the costume
It has taken and presume,
For the smile of inner guile,
Has become vile,
Making difference
Giving reference
While the guile,
Not for smile
But is craving only its cleanse,
In real sense
Seeking a chance
But the power of haze,
Makes it chase
That real chance
Not in the cleanse
But in a difference
Of giving reference
Of craving face
Says- having smile I own the face,
Want intense
Smile hence
Own the face
Assuming soothing embrace,
To consume rest of the haze
As not its face
But something else
Keeping difference
In hazy gaze
In hastey haze,
That is the mess
Be in a vile within for guile,,
Just for true smile
Which has no owner
Just a play without a player,
'Cause the player never bother
Or lick the play itself as something else,,
Knowing itself of the same clay
As of the play
Even this mess is in the Play,,
Of the same clay
Making the face Just for our play
But the face making grimace
And taking as
As a reference and difference
Making sense something else
Owning and craving to efface,
The difference
Of reference
Choose to consume
In vague chase
In smoky haze,,
Now
Let's go back,, to the haze
Yes yes the face,,
In its own ways,,
It's the same SPACE,,
Just the play itself,
It is given more, to those who have,
While who lacks,
It to have,
Is deprived even what it has,,
Because they do math
That's how the Maya,
Comes in monistic space
You are also what you think you are not

— The End —