"cord" poems
What's wrong with you, with us,
what's happening to us?
Ah our love is a harsh cord
that binds us wounding us
and if we want
to leave our wound,
to separate,
it makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together.
What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory.
And how empty you went through the world
like a wheat-colored jar
without air, without sound, without substance!
I vainly sought in you
depth for my arms
that dig, without cease, beneath the earth:
beneath your skin, beneath your eyes,
nothing,
beneath your double breast scarcely
raised
a current of crystalline order
that does not know why it flows singing.
Why, why, why,
my love, why?
29.6k
Moments
Like ordering two mochas
Just to watch you make them
Forgetting your name five times
Before getting your phone number
Wiping chocolate off your shirt
Trying unsuccessfully to flirt my way
Out of spilling on you
Little moments
Like finally having the guts to ask you out
Running to the coffee shop full speed
Just to find out it was your day off
Sulking my way through my third cup of tea
Cursing the fates for their insolence
Right until you walked in to cover someone else's shift
And running out too scared again
Little moments like those
Remind me why I fight through
Big times like these
Little moments
Like driving over the mountains
To get to the first big storm
Just to be the first ones to kiss in the rain
After the summer sun chapped our lips so long
We forgot the taste of our kiss
Little moments
Like the first time I took you out in heels
And you spent the whole night
Whispering to yourself about not falling
Right up until I fell twice
Down a flight of stairs
And for you
Little moments
Like you running over to pick my head up
Off the concrete
Staring at me with this look
That made me want to ask you if you were okay
Little moments
Like that remind me
That the big times like these
Are worth fighting for
That the big fights like these
Are worth ending
If only for the shot to have one more
Little moment
Like
A movie perfect scene in the snow
With snow ball fights, snow angels
And a snow man with coal for buttons
Eyes, mouth, sticks for arms and a scarf
But we didn't have a carrot
So you ran upstairs, broke off one of your heels
And called him Stalleto-face for a week
Little moments
Like
Burning three attempts at chicken cord en bleu
And begging the old woman on the phone
To put in one more order before they closed
And tipping $100 just to have the chance
To eat midnight fried rice on the living room floor
Because the table was full of
Foiled attempts at cooking
Little moments
Like those
So dear to me
Remind me there is no fight too big
To give up little moments with you
Nov 18, 2009
Nov 18, 2009 at 4:58 PM UTC
Never let someone else decide how good you are. And never make an exception to that rule.
Your words, and your unique we of expressing them, are a gift given to you. If someone else doesn't appreciate them, then good for them. It's not their gift, so it has nothing to do with them. Its your responsibility to respect your gifts and to protect them from negativity; typical of these lower life forms, called Haters; annoying little creatures that feed off of other people's energy and hard work - they spawn fairly quickly and dewl in the depths of social media, hidden behind computer and smartphone screens. Usually over-weight, bad breath, single and filthy broke. Hindered by limited hand-eye coordination; they simply **** at every thing. They are pretty pathetic, in person. I mean they look human, but have no spinal cord, so they don't stand up straight. Their habitats similar to that of a large roach, just messier with and more filth. I hear they are contagious, so be careful. Don't let their negativity rub off on you, or you will end up like one of them. A soulless zombie, paroling posts looking for a something stupid to say.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
---
I've done some research
On cancer's cause
Western medicine, Dr Oz.
They don't have answers, I'm afraid.
And the cure is in what GOD made.
Cancer's vector? A simple virus.
A parasite and a fungus.
Candida overgrowth.
Radiation. Stress.
We all face this in the West.
So are there answers? Well. Let's see.
Tell me if you don't agree.
Sodas should go down the drain
They have sugar or aspertame.
Sugar feeds cancer. Cut it out!
I KNOW that this will make you pout
But you can find nuts a tasty treat
Find some that you like to eat!
Say NO to coffee. All caffeine.
Eat kale and other leafy greens.
If you want nutrition saved
Cut the cord on your microwave!
They watered plants
with water nuked
They died. Nutrition down the tubes.
So no TV dinners. Processed foods.
No fruits or veggies grown GMOs.
WHEAT is bad! And on it goes.
So it may cost a little more?
Shop your local health food store!
What does it matter?
What's cancer's cost?
And your life will not be lost!
If you tire of reading this
There may be important
things you miss... READ ON!
NATURAL REMEDIES FOR CANCER
Blackstrap molasses. 1 tablespoon
Baking soda. 1 teaspoon
Mix with a glass of water and drink.
(Baking soda should be found at
a health food store)
Blackstrap molasses can also be used
topically for skin cancer.
Tincture of the husk of the
Black walnut nut. 2 drops
Tincture of clove. 2 drops
Tincture of wormwood. 2 drops
Mix in a glass of water and drink. Add lemon and honey.
It'll taste better.
IMPORTANT!
DO NOT USE TAP
OR BOTTLED WATER!
Get distilled water and add
Minerals in liquid form.
Your health food store will have this.
There are many herbs and spices
Which help.
There's iodine in common kelp.
Turmeric
Cucumin
etc.
VERY POWERFUL
Soursop tea. Green tea sans caffeine
Fresh vegetables of the rainbow...
Colors are viamins!
Vitamin supplements
Especially B-17
If you can't find these in your
Health food store ask them to order.
Or go on Amazon and order.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
Quick break-up Senryus.
Pick one to quickly, cut that
relationship cord:
I'm sorry, What'd you say?
I can't hear you (confused look)
- we’re breaking up.
You’re the guy that
every girl at our school wants
- it's their lucky day.
It's time that we took
our relationship to the
previous level.
I still cherish the
initial misconceptions
I had about you.
.
.
Songs for this:
Love on the Rocks by Lizzie Mintz
Lovefool by The Cardigans
Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne
Forever by X-Cetra
Sep 5, 2025
Sep 5, 2025 at 9:54 PM UTC
the electricity runs through our veins
and past the street signs we rumble by
in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit,
the roof of the car is the noir sky above
and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces
the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips
the sound of the sky collapsing
echoes the flashes that streak the sky,
the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness
(as if god were wearing light up sketchers)
the lacy brallette that wears me
gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car
the velvet pants that ripple with the wind
drink up the nighttime rain
and the rare headlights race past us,
heading into homes and hearts
the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts
so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity
the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes
now streams down my face.
on a two way street,
we drive down the middle
unafraid in the face of direct dangers
so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers
and instead highly exhilarated
from the street signs we drive by
too fast to read the blocky lettering
the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them
the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window,
still smothering slightly.
i can still taste the smoke on your lips
and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear
and as the wind objects and inhales
unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip
the tunnel rushes towards us,
and we both hold our breaths,
as if breathing would contaminate us.
the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow
and for once, i see you for who you are
a boy too buzzed to feel
a kid who only felt "sort of"
a person who couldn't heal
and a lover who could never give love
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
In the pursuit of happiness I walked the roads,
I stopped at milestones, leaned on posts.
I saw a flock of birds in flight,
Rings of gold.. an orb so bright.
I looked around at mountain walls,
The raging sea, white frothy falls.
I looked up at the sky serene,
The valley lush a summer green.
Banyan trees with leaves bedecked,
Gulmohars lined with blossoms red.
Faces walked engrossed in streets,
A touch, a nod when eyes would meet..
Saw hunger, anguish, weary eyes,
Sorrow, terror, shock, surprise,
I saw the tears of loss and grief,
Faith, resilience, resolve, belief.
I heard the laughter of a child,
I saw the magic of a smile.
A hug, a kiss, a warm caress,
A helping hand that love expressed
I felt the cord of love that binds,
Hearts across the world and time.
I found happiness in little things,
In nature that surprises springs..
His art, the colors that I saw,
That left me breathless, full of awe,
Happiness in that special touch,
In smiles, laughter, that gentle brush.
In kind words that wonders do,
In love that breathes life anew.
In all things that I could see,
I knew happiness begins with me,
Within me what I see or do,
The trail of thoughts I send to you.
And happiness is what I found,
When happiness was spread around.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
gurgle, gurgle,
groundcurrent unsettled,
moon unseen like stars
fever dreamed,
dissonance for the melody maker,
dissonance for the retired risk-taker,
dissonance for the hips of homewreckers.
civil, civil,
no minutes can afford the divide,
aside, to the crystal buildings and
the sky's sputtering cries,
compliments to your forehead's ****
compliments to your forefather's rash,
compliments to your aforementioned crash.
the current, the current
rides hot and merciless along thigh,
dribbles down chins and nightgowns,
dries--a permanent badge of scattered life,
electroshock seeps from self-made holes,
electroshock seeps from smoldering bowls,
electroshock seeps from typecast roles.
volcano, volcano,
grumble and moan.
volcano, volcano,
clear cord and stroke.
volcano, volcano,
grieve me in ash.
volcano, volcano,
I've been awful bad. I've been awful bad. I've been awful bad.
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
White dreams cascading
down my spine, down my
trembling thighs
with thoughts of slumber
close to you,
I must have been swept away
by this crystallizing sugar.
Heavy eyes, fluttering open
like an aloof spring day,
I have had my fair taste of
******* for the day,
yet it tastes rather like
infidelity and prayer.
Bitter to admit, yes,
this ******* has overthrown
my gut.
I have witnessed the curves of
it's chest and wrapped it's
spinal cord around my neck.
Platonic it may have ended,
yet my *******
began with such a sweet taste.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
Everyone in me is a bird.
I am beating all my wings.
They wanted to cut you out
but they will not.
They said you were immeasurably empty
but you are not.
They said you were sick unto dying
but they were wrong.
You are singing like a school girl.
You are not torn.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
and of the central creature and its delight
I sing for you. I dare to live.
Hello, spirit. Hello, cup.
Fasten, cover. Cover that does contain.
Hello to the soil of the fields.
Welcome, roots.
Each cell has a life.
There is enough here to please a nation.
It is enough that the populace own these goods.
Any person, any commonwealth would say of it,
"It is good this year that we may plant again
and think forward to a harvest.
Many women are singing together of this:
one is in a shoe factory cursing the machine,
one is at the aquarium tending a seal,
one is dull at the wheel of her Ford,
one is at the toll gate collecting,
one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,
one is straddling a cello in Russia,
one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,
one is painting her bedroom walls moon color,
one is dying but remembering a breakfast,
one is stretching on her mat in Thailand,
one is wiping the *** of her child,
one is staring out the window of a train
in the middle of Wyoming and one is
anywhere and some are everywhere and all
seem to be singing, although some can not
sing a note.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
let me carry a ten-foot scarf,
let me drum for the nineteen-year-olds,
let me carry bowls for the offering
(if that is my part).
Let me study the cardiovascular tissue,
let me examine the angular distance of meteors,
let me **** on the stems of flowers
(if that is my part)..
Let me make certain tribal figures
(if that is my part).
For this thing the body needs
let me sing
for the supper,
for the kissing,
for the correct
yes.
9k
I know the stories that you tell
I have them memorized so well
I take you at face value
Every time
You're everything I want
You're nothing I could hate
Hope you don't hesitate
Will you be mine?
**I see the electric sunshine
I see the electric sunshine
I see the electric sunshine**
In your eyes
It's nothing but a bruise
It doesn't mean abuse
It's just a disagreement
I'll be fine
He still loves me the same
He tells me it's okay
He knows just what to say
Every time
**I see the electric sunshine
The mask you hide behind
I see the electric sunshine**
In your eyes
I know the stories that you tell
I know they're just pathetic spells
You thought I'd fall for it
Every time
You're no longer what I want
You're everything I've come to hate
Now your gone for good and I know
I'll be fine
***I saw the sunshine in your eyes
The light you flipped on with a switch
And when it turned out to be lies
I turned into a *****
And I cut the cord to the ties that bound
I'm happy without electric sunshine now
I've seen the light without you***
I let it shine
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC
It's that hour again,
guilt sets in
because I am
awake.
Insomnia seems to be my only ally
lately,
comforting me with her consistency
like an old lover.
I feel safe here in my lonely cocoon,
here in my head
here in my heart,
again.
This unexpected world is
of my own making,
that's a hard pill to
swallow.
Spent from wrestling demons
and
waiting for a silver lining,
endless hope
dying.
If someone knows the code
or can cut my cord,
would you please indulge me
kindly?
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
I cried as I saw pimples in her dimples
Encycling her two cheeks like ripples
She was the one that got all my respect
To her I gave my time, no day of neglect
She was always having my annual rose
And her smile, my only efficient dose
I wept as I saw pimples in her dimples
As big as the size of Alaboyun's *******
She was a blend of white-blue always
And tarried for common, countless days
In the earliest moments of our fight
My emotional cord was tough and tight
I cried as I saw pimples in her dimples
For no more were those fresh apples
Those fruity, pleasant things she faked
As if there was no debris to be raked
She was always appearing ten-over-ten
And no signs of going from men to men
I wept as I saw pimples in her dimples
For I taught we'd be best among couples
The soft fingers of her green flowers
Captivated me every twenty-four hours
Then the flowers had music and mellow
Their nectars today are in sweet sorrow
I cried as I saw pimples in her dimples
Encycling her two cheeks like ripples
Her folks called me a playing tool
And her best friend, a funny fool
I danced through her demanding soul
I almost got crippled by its pot-hole
Now I cried as I saw those two dimples
Molested by her open, plenty pimples
If I knew she went after many men
I would have left her there and then
Had I known she nurtured many wrinkles
I'd have gone before an eye twinkles.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
Derartu, Haile, Tirunesh
Kenenisa, Meseret, and all
With a similar footfall!
Displaying a superb
Long-distance athletic feat
When many superstars
Awe inspiringly you beat
And as a result of it
When your sought-for
Fought-for
And nation- prayed-for
Dream proves a hit
And also with kudos
A stadium full of people opt
You to greet
And when spectators
Accord you a high five
It is for your country's flag
You immediately dive!
Also on the podium
while Ethiopia's row-wise
Green,Yellow and Red
Emblazoned flag,
Shoulder high,
Soars above
You express
Your umbilical cord-tight
National love
With tears that
Trickle down each of
Your cheek,quick.
Is it because
Reminiscent of
Each living hero
With a life sacrifice
That brought colonial
Aggression to zero?
Is it because
The bounty of the land
You grew up
Seeing first hand?
Is it because
The cherished corner
You cut in the heart of
The poor but prideful
Ethiopian neighbour?
Is it because
The unity in diversity
That showcases
Ethiopia's identity
Or citizens hospitality?
Is it because
At heart strings a tug
Or ,among others
Gratefulness to
Your iron-strong lung
When you hear
Ethiopian anthem sung?
Is it because a secret another
Deep down you harbour?
Is it because the Fertility
Hope and Sovereignty ideals
The flag advance,
Also Ethiopia's being
A beacon of independence
What is more
The nation's renaissance
Which in a curtain of mist
Before your eyes dance?
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
Because one loves you, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason you should pout
And like a March wind veer about
And frown and say your shrewish say?
Don't strain the cord until it snaps,
Don't split the sound heart with your wedge,
Don't cut your fingers with the edge
Of your keen wit: you may perhaps.
Because you're handsome, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason to be proud?
Your eyes are bold, your laugh is loud,
Your steps go mincing on their way:
But so you miss that modest charm
Which is the surest charm of all;
Take heed; you yet may trip and fall,
And no man care to stretch his arm.
Stoop from your cold height, Helen Grey,
Come down and take a lowlier place;
Come down to fill it now with grace;
Come down you must perforce some day:
For years cannot be kept at bay,
And fading years will make you old;
Then in their turn will men seem cold,
When you yourself are nipped and grey.
7.6k
I think Poetry found me very early,
From somewhere in mama's womb.
Hooked to her umbilical cord firmly.
I heard something like a tiny bomb.
It was the sound of the talking drum,
Heralding the arrival of another grio.
So with gratitude, I said thanks mom,
And to the world, I said a very big hello.
Of course, I used the language of babies,
I cried and breathed in my very first air.
This was my first sight of the ladies
They smiled as they washed my hair.
My very first poem was a sad prayer.
It was written when I was very hungry
I was hopeless, I had only one dollar,
And no real prospect of ever making it.
So I took out my old used notepad,
UnfortunateIy, I had no pen to write with.
I wrote with a charcoal found in the yard,
And I wrote many long lines on my wall.
I wrote everything I had to tell God
Sadly, I couldn't write them all.
I cried in anguish to the Lord,
Asking If He had forgotten me.
Of Course, I got no immediate answer,
But years later my answer came.
It came in the form of a letter.
Addressed to me, ten years later
It came later but it felt better,
Instantly my struggle was all over!
The first love letter I wrote was poetry,
It was childish, unstructured and ugly.
It was written to a girl, she was pretty,
She read it and smiled, I wasn't so lucky.
Crushed, yet I pretended to be strong
I walked away but ran all the way home.
I cried in anguish and wrote a love song.
The lines were very sad, I felt all alone.
But I knew it was my first real rejection.
So I tried writing again, this time to me.
I was very focused, I was on a mission.
Finally, it finished and I wrote my name.
Unfortunately, the answer was the same,
There and then I knew I had no game,
So I reconciled and just took the blame.
Fast forward,and many years later,
I found the subject of my love letter.
I wrote a note to her on messenger.
I was optimistic because I wrote better.
I was emboldened by my poetic power.
Once again,the reply came to me later,
This time it was a resounding yes!
It felt so wonderful, thanks to poetry
And the universe I didn't make a mess.
#IvanBrooksPoetry©
7/22/2018
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
Give me back my shell,
My hole of comfort and understanding.
Where I face not the hard and weary world,
Give me time to myself,
A me time that only I can comprehend.
I wanna rip the cord of constant connection and just let the thoughts and soul settle like the bottom of the ocean.
I wanna just relax and be able to be myself,
ALONE,
Without another,
And nobody seems to get that very well
At least not anyone I know,
So if anybody were to love me they need to understand this,
I'm a half introvert,
And that half needs some time to recover at times
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
the shock
of bodies—
a sound
rippled in
cheetah lightening
to wings of blasted
flowers taught
red
yellow
lavender sky—
butterfly wound
festering pollened
breeze to
where your
mouth
is opened
breath
tongue
and twisted cord—
opaque bee
twirling with
opaque stamen
lit
in a wall of
rushing
waterfall—a
perfect contrast
of forgiveness
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
*The smell of hibiscus blooms
Fragrance the beautiful evening
From somewhere in the distance
The strings of the ukulele can be heard
Lone tropical girls dance to its beautiful melody
And I begin to play my ukulele too
And I too begin to dance
On that beautiful evening
When the sky had fallen asleep
With a faint sunset in the west
And the salty breezes blew
Across each beautiful palm tree
Such a beautiful evening I can see
Only in the silver cord
Of my mind's eye*
~Marian~
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC
You loop the rope around my wrists,
so delicately
I almost forget this is supposed to thrill me.
Your eyes glow barbaric
but mine can't unlock
from the braided cord
just barely rubbing my skin.
I never liked ropes in these kinds of situations,
I never felt they were right kind of tempting.
You see when you become part of the other you have to embrace it,
Like a flaw,
Only this one comes with a body count.
The rough texture of the rope feels like hay,
Like beard stubble
pressed against your cheek
in a high school classroom,
Like broken strands of your now fried hair lying at the bottom of your shower drain.
My wrists have a noose around them,
But this is a suicide not a lynching.
When his wife crawls into her bed
at the end of the night,
she won't smell my perfume,
We never go to his room.
I don't want to know
what a marriage bed looks like.
But you have to understand,
This is my choice.
I don't want him to love me,
Nor do I think he ever will.
He loves what I do to him,
What I'll let him do to me,
And that's as much of a connection
as the both of us need.
It always ends with me being called
his *****
by a woman who doesn't know
he's turned on by that word,
But I never break them up.
Either she doesn't leave,
And if she does,
We all 3 know this wasn't my doing.
The rope snapped
And its my skin that is left raw.
Their tension will only make me bleed.
Love will hurt you.
Women like me are a catalyst,
Not a damnation
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
Took the 17 down nicollet
Passed the City Center
Passing time
Passing men on the streets with an open guitar case
Passed the kids with their skateboards
Passed the guys covered in ink playing fight night on the street
Fifth street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
The sharks fight the jets
Romeo goes to Juliet
Old men with canes talk on their cell phones
Nicollet and 4th feels a little heavy tonight
11:47 comes my bus
Down 4th ave
Passing time
Passing the former home of the Twins
Passed the cops with their lights on
Passed some kids in their visors
Red light
Doswell street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
Out on the street
Street lamps glow fluorescent
New moon fixed in the stars
Tilted, slightly
The tweakers stay in the shack down the block
They’ve got the rocks in their socks
And they’re sleeping on the carpet
Welcome mat turned over
Shades drawn tight
And an icy cold feeling runs in their veins
And they roll back into a dream
Apartment building
Stairwell
Door 10
Living room.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
I think about my death.
The seed of life
is so
profuse,
and that
is
my demise.
I might live,
but I will die.
When I dream,
I dream
of Judy Greer.
She's been there
talking
about
love and *******
and death
and hurting.
So what can I say now,
when bulletholes
of lightning
people my dreams.
When a couple
shots of whiskey
have put me on the edge
of missing you
over memories.
I moan
and dream,
because dreaming
is a moan
for hope.
And being in for a bid,
is the same
as your lips
to
my
lips.
So I evade promises
and dribble
into traps
of
depression.
I've had this problem
for so long,
it seems inconsequential
that I might
wring my neck
by an electrical cord,
or by the chords
of your heart..
Because i miss you
and that
type
of
thing
never lets go
to much.
I stare at humans with an anchor in my hands.
I don't know if I should break
their noses,
or
tell them how it got there.
Don't hate me,
just be grateful;
that I told you I'm so sad
and worn out.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
When I write,
It is like I am on an adventure,
When I am happy I am drifting down a lazy river,
When I am full of anger I am raging down dangerous rapids,
Crashing into the jagged rocks of my anguish and anxiety
Until finally I reach the river bank and I can rest.
It is like I am scaling Mount Everest,
Each level of creativity is another 100 metres into the sky
Until finally my imagination is at the peak
And my freedom is limitless,
stretching across to the farthest reaches of the horizon
It is like skydiving,
A rush of adrenaline as I plummet towards the ground,
Completely weightless and my mind is racing
Like the air that brushes over my skin
Until I pull the cord and release the parachute,
Safely land on my feet
With a new idea.
It is like a drug,
I am on an all time high,
Hallucinations of what could be,
How something that is far from tangible
Becomes existential,
Then during the come down
I make that dream a reality.
When I write, I feel like myself,
There are too many possibilities
That are still left unmarked on the map of written art.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
I lay beside you my bestfriend,
Hold hands with you my bestfriend,
We laugh,
We live,
We play,
We love,
Swear you intrigue me bestfriend,
Open arms for you my bestfriend,
The world knows about you my bestfriend,
Your beauty is gift,
And I,
Lay my hand apon your cheek,
_______________________________
I was at my whits end,
Leaving her was like the abilicle cord I could not cut,
Lost Archangel running away,
The clouds could not hide you from me,
You putting your trust in me,
Now I'm a distant memory,
Nothing more but a bunch of condoms in the backseat,
I can't breathe ,
When you say that,
I can't deal though,
Fine then leave,
______________________________
Will I Always care,
Open up so many days,
Use to like your magic,
Loved your madness,
Lusting over your sin,
The laughter made it seem okay,
But love this day I have no limits,
For I could be the Superman you've always wanted,
But will I Always,
Be a stranger to you,
Blind spot to you,
Embarrassed to face that virtue,
Afraid afterwards to face you,
You went away,
And that's why you won't ever hear me say,
Will I Always,............................
.....................be the one.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
All dimples and curls and pigeon toes when sitting,
purple; and gold dangles
light-skinned girl, dark-skinned girl
depending on the translation
hips swivel to the left, ******* that follow
in commanding black bras
and matching lacy *******
Rolling backwards into handstands for most *************
else on the loveseat
whipping love back and forth between the swell
beneath the shorts
and beneath the outer layers,
the lip gloss smiles and masquerades
beneath the veins and bone and guts:
there's a naked, quivering heater
switched on all year long
its dainty wiring peeking out,
the head of the cord puckered.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 1:28 AM UTC