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September Rose May 2018
I run myself a bath, I put fluffy bubbles and soothing soaps in it, I light candles and turn down the lights, and make sure it's the perfect temperature
To cry in it

I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth and get dressed, I tediousely organize my room, alphabetical, by colour, I get out my books, I dust the smooth pages
To cry on them

I pick out a fresh shirt, pants, shoes. I tie my hair and dry my face. I put on a nice jacket
Just to soak it with tears

Just to cry

It's seems most of my time these days, is spent on things that stray to sobs
Stray to crying
Karijinbba Aug 2018
Love Story byAndy Williams
'Unforgetable"
"I'll Be Seeing You."
"Can't get enough of your love"
"Are You Lonesome Tonight."
I'll Make Love To You"
"What a wonderful world"
Red red Wine
At Last.
"Yesterday" J.Lenon
~~~~
[ Nathan, Joseph-Pat-Rick ]
Close your eyes, make a wish
And blow out the candlelight
For tonight is just your night
We're gonna celebrate,
all thru the night

[Shawn Pat.Rick, J Paul Taylor ]
Pour the wine, light the fire
Guinevere your wish is my command
I submit to your demands
I will do anything, Karijinbba, you need only ask

[ Joseph-Paul-Patrick-Richard]
I'll make love to you
Like you want me to
And I'll hold you tight
Angelina-babe
all through the night
I'll make love to you
When you want me to
And I will not let go
'Till you tell me to

[Wanya, Shawn, Pat-Rick]
my true love AnKarijin,
relax let's go slow!
I ain't got nowhere to go
I'm just gonna concentrate on you the whole night through
My Kariginny are you ready?
it's gonna be a long night.
Throw your clothes (Throw your clothes) on the floor (on the floor)

[Shawn Wanja, Nathan, Pat-Rick]
I'm gonna take my clothes off too
I made plans to be with you queen bee mine Karin whatever you ask me, you know, I could do

[Angel'Q Karijinbba Chinny Chin]
I'll make love to you too
Like you want me to Rickie babe
And I'll hold you tight
My baby Pat
all through the night
I'll make love to you
When you want me to
And I will not let go
'Till you tell me to!

[Wanya,Shawn,PatRick, Nathan:]
Angeli'q Babychin
tonight is your night
And I will do you right
Just make a wish on your night
Anything that you ask
I will give you the love of your life, your life, your life
love of my life.
~~~~
Boys To Men: For:Karijinbba.
start 54-(74-95)-05.end.
This songs I choose to play on my HeadStone...when I die.. To all the man who sang and danced with me.
even if it was only a Scripted love. sigh..PLEASE DON'T LAUGH BECAUSE WHEN I WAS DONE HERE I LAUGHED SO HARD MY TOMMY HURT;so did my daughters.
Gemma Aug 2018
He's rubbing me
through my clothes
something wonderful but unfamiliar
does it so very well but I can't let him know
Because it will blow the atmospheric fear of being bad at this sort of play
He'll soon find out however as I'm gonna overload
all over his face.
Jordan Rowan Jun 2016
She came down from a mountain
Higher than the valley she's been in
She broke down like an engine
On a highway towards forever once again

She says "I don't know where my life is going", but
Baby, nobody knows
Just take a breath and do what you've been doing
True angels wear everyday clothes

She lives inside the mind of a mercenary
Staring down the barrel of a gun
She's tired of the weight they ask her to carry
And her back has been broken for so long

There's choirs that will sing of her memory
Like a fallen queen with silver in her hair
As the flowers bloom and God starts descending
To touch her hand and take her anywhere

She says "I don't know where my life is going, but
Baby, nobody knows
Just take a breath and do what you've been doing
True angels wear everyday clothes
Francie Lynch Sep 2018
Parading past in the emperor's robe,
I looked with wonder at the fool,
Left, right, right left,
Out of step.
I stood too close to the sewer cover,
A stench was in the air.
Behind and above on a balcony,
Leaning on wrought iron,
A woman's voice, drunk on demonstrations,
Called out, bouncing off balloons,
Never look a clenched fist in the mouth.
CK Baker Jan 2017
Thank you:
for a life not to trade
blessings, in spades
tight spaces
behind laundry doors
packed closets
and open drawers
gator tails, tarnished brass
cracks in kitchen sliding glass
wet towels, withering plants
foundation filled
with carpenter ants
buckets piled with
shoes and tags
village clothes
and saddlebags
peeling paint
and broken walls
****** seats
in bathroom stalls
clogged pantry
frigid rooms
table scribe
and carbon fumes
comfort capsules
empty tanks
broken limbs
from children’s pranks
**** finger
double tongue
long goodbyes
and sidewalk dung
cluster flies
chavie’ clique
accompanying
the hypocrite
cracked back
and hidden smiles
chalk on board
with mr miles
atomic wedgies
closing doors
wrotten eggs
and open sores
jaw jack
nasty folk
dinner calls
for pig in poke
penny pinchers
double dip
yellow mouth
and silver tip
brown nosers
thick red tape
paper cuts
and pimple nape
gallivants
so out of norm
the joy of life
in basic form
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2015
grace on a birch branch
a pair of silky redbreasts
among red buds of spring
no worry about tomorrow
for God feeds them today
and clothes them as kings
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
CLOTHES HAVE NO MEMORIES

Your most prized dress
must confess

that it
cannot

remember

the swell of your breast

the rise & fall of your breathing.

Clothes have no memory.

It is Winter now and your summer
frock has totally forgot

the sheer sunny shockingness of being
(underneath it all)    

absolutely knickerless.

Kisses like butterflies
alight high (high)    
on your inner thigh (thigh) !

Clothes have no memory.

Your bra
unhooked & unhinged

cannot really recall

the thrill of it all

as my hands caress

create your *******.

Clothes have no memory.

Clothes have no memory
...but I do.
Vera Jul 2018
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
—V.H.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
English Jam Aug 2018
Before the screen turns to black
And the credits roll
And the curtain shuts
And there's no more control
I'd like to take a cigarette
To the parallel lines who never met and the spaces in between
And wish we'd never forget
The people painting the backdrop behind the scenes
Well, we'll always remember for a moment
The parting of Olympus and the gods making love above our heads
But the gods have all faced the court of age
And Apollo was torn apart by infinity on the stage
And the moment that we held dear in our hearts has blown over like the wind, been kicked open like a door, caught fire and burned like a mountain
It's gone, love

I guess I have to pack my clothes
And cast out all my hopes
Drowning in the sour milk sea, where dreams are shell carcasses of suicide
The sour milk sea, a flash flood of regret curling into a tide
The sour milk sea, where the only texture your fingers touch is the acid guzzling from your ears
The sour milk sea, where the sailors wrap themselves in a blanket of jabs and jeers

         Time to fade away
gracie Feb 2018
lightning flash across the sky
silver clouds begin to cry
our clothes are cold and soaking wet
but we don't run inside just yet

if I said I'm ready now
darling, would you show me how
to blindly run through fields, unplowed
until the thunder roars?

fire races through my spine
warm hands meet my waistline
let's dance together, intertwined
like flowers in a storm
only an innuendo if u want it to be
came a beacon from space
seeking an interface
with the people like me who live here
it began as a drone
something like a ring tone
from a cell phone hid deep in the ear

every man, woman, child
got the signal, first mild
maybe voices at night in their beds
and they said with smile
mad is now the new style
maybe time to try on some new threads?

and that call from the dark
made our dull neurons spark
then our senes got set to re-tune
made our synapses blink
and our transmitters wink
as the dish run away with our spoon

just a lifestyle update
where the jackets were straight
we put padding all over our walls
haut couture, a la mode
from that cosmic download
sending patterns designed to enthral

as the fashion year passed
the array grew more vast
we got faxes then texts with a 'Ping!'
next came video feeds
thanks to fast network speeds
making visions the next 'must have' thing

soon the experts concurred
a malfunction occurred
when they asked for a status update
and our mind's IT suits
sent emogies and tweets
and world leaders kept saying 'it's great'

they just could not conceive
of the stuff we'd receive
so the doctors suggested some pills
that would keep us they'd hope
from the end of a rope
put an end to what they saw as ills

so we'd do what they say
- pills don't work anyway
we believe what we want to believe
and next time we won't tell
we know their system well
it’s a shame, but it’s best to deceive

'til their memory clears
and that cursor appears
on the screen at the front of their minds
neon green set on black
saying join us and *****
and we'll lead as they follow behind

sanity's last year's fad
now the new black is mad
it's en-vogue, it's so rad, today's meme
they'll get hip, get on trend
come unzipped, round the bend
in the year of our Lord, oh-nineteen

become part of the fad
where decisions are bad
and we vote for those more mad than we
emperors in new clothes
like the ones we have chose
for this end of the world jamboree

let the normal folk talk
while we stalk the catwalk
pop the cork - our mad moment is here
and don't have any doubt
when these mad duds wear out
we'll be wearing psychotic next year.
Zoie Marie Lynn May 2018
and i don't even know if i want to kiss your lips or just your skin
because i'm
     falling
       falling
         falling
           falling
         falling
       falling
     falling
but i don't want to hit the ground again.
are you sure your arms can hold the weight of my love when it's wrapped in wet clothes?
and are you sure it's the best idea to take this where the wind goes?
i'm not yet sure if love is a real thing
it's just a
   beautiful
  fictional
deadly
play,
and you still kiss me like i'm sane
but i know it's all just another game
so don't be surprised if i refuse to participate.
and you're like a
         cynical
           patronizing
             inconsiderate
           impartial
         callous
song,
but your vicious words still gently drag me along.
and i'm not sure if you're really toxic
or it's just all in my head.
because
i love you
love you
ove you
ve you
e you
you
ou
u
or maybe i love when you're in my bed.
there's a difference between someone telling you they love you and them actually loving you
i haven't figured it out yet though
laura Apr 2018
Spent all my money on comfy camo clothes
Diors and Docs
and none of them have pockets
for you

would’ve spent it trying to get to you, get me out the friendzone
but i’m good, the gleam
of spring rain incites the wetness
and half drear to outshine

but i’m doing me and making each day
mine
8)
aj Dec 2018
I came back to a bag of clothes on my bed
that you left there for me while I was gone
they looked little and silly, the things;

once mine, then yours
now neither of us want to take credit for what belongs to us

you were giving back what you'd kept hold on to in the most material way you could

thought basically saying in less words than one
"I've made the choice to forget you"
onlylovepoetry Mar 2018
Friday night immodesty

theater on East 4th street @ 8:00pm,
so the girlie stuff commences on schedule
90 minuets a-priori and the medley music
(adele+amy+alicia+ pink bach for some zing)
a harbinger, a pioneer Greek heralding of
Friday night immodesty

the clothes laid out upon the bed, the shoes,
pumps selected and already on,
(always a puzzler to me,)
the subdued lower east side jewelry possibilities,
on the dresser drawer,
indifferently hoping for selection, but
casually beaming quietly,
like those kids waiting for interviews in the waiting room
of the college Admissions Dean’s office,
all with serious smiles
and tiny tearing eyes

aside:
helloooooo, I am in a poetry polo with my best jeans ready to go
2 hours before the curtain calls out,
hellooooooo

she sits at the makeup mirrored desk,
clad in only her underneath garments of varying utility,
when I sweep in imperially
and with one hand twist gentle her hair upwards,
betraying
her neck nape which is again
the sujet of a poem aborning

lips,
like a Greek lyre strings, pluck, the tiny hid hairs never seen,
her instant moans at the never fully expected motion poem,
beg more mercy but no quarter given despite repeated cries
of you’ll mess my makeup,
the best defense known to a lady!

god gave men two thumbs to lift up,
simultaneously stimulating,
slide down each of the thin black brasserie strap invitations,
upon each, a writ,
upon her flesh colored shoulders,
stating
“what was she thinking!”

my lips,
now polar explorers, those power (filled) poles side by side,
(east/west for the designer was a smart
bipolar guy-person);
the lips play silent night progressive jazz,
tinkling with higher noted keys,
nape to shoulders moving down to the back’s prefrontal lobe,
the small of her back, the body’s quivering,
a con-federate flag of surrender

her last defense swept aside, we drink honey and milk,
celebrate the week’s mellifluous finish with immodest touching,
the lower east side will belong tonite
to only the hipsters, the millennials,
as our hips are milling and  otherwise
pre-theater and post, occupado

some hours later, watching TV and eating delivered Chinese,
she laterally and literally arm punches my arm
intensely to mark her discontent,
still annoyed,
for I

1) messed up her makeup,
2) best blouse to the dry cleaner and
3) the tickets wasted, and worse,
hits me again!

after I laugh and giggle upon proffering
most modestly, most assuredly,
seconds of
onlylovepoetry

9.21am Saturday
thank you all who liked this tale of
the poetry in the details
of our lives.
olp
Poetoftheway Aug 2018
how do you know when (a human is too broken?)



<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
Lizzy Sep 2014
Shrink yourself
Oh she's fading away
Hold her bones together
As the movies play

When a diet becomes an addiction
I felt myself give in
My mind was hooked on these
Skinny thoughts

Bones dance in my dreams
And I couldn't be shaken awake
Yes I'll be skinny like the others
Beautiful like I want

But there's nothing beautiful
About your hair falling out
And passing out and hitting your head
And freezing in the summer
And constantly falling asleep

There's nothing cute about
***** in your hair
And on your clothes
****** noses
And aching bones

Nothing glamorous behind that bathroom door
Just a ****** girl
With her head stuck half way down the pipes
King Panda Oct 2015
lover old voice
bed bug boy
timbre distinction of
man vs. boy vs. baby
raspberry at the lips and
bubble beaten air
boy in bed clothes
locked
rolling
sad sad boy down
the steps in a
laundry basket
weathered hands and makeup
prongs boy
you’re cute
let me buy you
a drink
Sammie wells Feb 2013
When I was a little girl I wanted to be a princess, parade around my castle all day in pretty clothes and tiaras on my head.

When I was a teenager I wanted to be a mummy, my very own tiny baby that would sleep all night and be kitted out in only designer gear, we'd  have everything.

When I was becoming a adult I wanted the big white wedding, the fancy ring and husband who would stand by me through anything.

Now I'm a woman the wanting has left my head, life is not a fairy tale and designer clothes ha! Only if you're rich, beware of the husbands you choose two for they can turn out to be just pigs.

Now older and wiser still I really must say, the only thing you should be wanting is happiness and peace for each and everyone.

(SW)
Thought I would try something other than glum
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