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Josiah Wilson Aug 2014
Poets seem sad to me
Because we feel more
And we hold on tight
And when we hurt, we write

Our tears fall on paper
In the form of words
Thoughts in scribbled ink
As our hearts begin to sink

Other people's pain fades
And drifts away with time
But a poet's hurt will stay
There on the tear stained page
Not my best, but after reading a lot of poems on here, I wanted to write this.

Also desiderium: an ardent desire or longing; especially :  a feeling of loss or grief for something lost (From Merriam-Webster)
Danielle Nov 2023
There's nothing I can really own,
I ache at something that wasn't mine; no memories to recollect and no sound of voice that I could memorize, not even a light could stay within.

And even the sky changes its color, it doesn't even own the stars.
pariah Nov 2014
I'm afraid I've grown addicted to her presence.

How I long to indulge myself in her touch that I grow drunk with just a whiff of her scent like a mad man.  

Dreaming, contemplating, making imagery in my mind liking to that of a movie pleasing as beer to Filipino men.

I see her as I climb mountains, as I swim through the seas of the Philippine coast on my own.  

Finding you at the tip of my pen as I slowly write down what both the heart and mind tell my soul
This desiderium  Is killing him
I think the fear has won
Him and his fear are now one
The damage is done
What he always hated he has now become
Lost without a sense of direction
Tell him self what he needs to do but none of the lie
doesn't matter how many times
can convince.
That the life that he says he wants
isn't the life he wants or the life he'll ever live.
And the chances are that if he doesn't try he'll feel as if he never lived
Maria Monte Jul 2017
When have I started seeing myself as insignificant?

Was it in 7th grade when I started to notice
How the world paraded a perfect image of
What a body should be?

Magazines, bulletins, billboards, media: images
Of how women should have the deep oceans in their eyes
or they'd be worth less than a pebble.
Of how their ******* should resemble the precious pearls of God
or they're not worth a single glance.
Of how their lips and skins have to be free from scratches, dents, and scars
as if they were Christmas poultry.

When have little girls started avoiding supper and saving cents for plastic surgery?

Was it in 9th Grade during health class
When Mr. Smith babbled about how thin
Was the only desirable body type and
If you were any other you're unwanted?

Text books and ideals screaming
About thigh gaps with curvy bottoms,
Delicate fingers and thin arms
And how little girls shouldn't have a visible stomach.

Did they hear about little Mary's sobs in the night
Because no matter how much she pressed down
On her tiny uvula, her food wouldn't magically disappear?

When have mothers started caring more about their belly pouch than how their babies are crying every 6 seconds?

Was it in college when I had to attend a seminar
About how the perfect body has zero fat composition and if you did, you're probably lazy and incompetent.
Mothers and fathers whispering to each other
About how my mother wasn't skinny enough
And how her face wasn't caked with make up

Little do they know, my mother worked 24/7,
As a manager and a single mother of 4,.
She barely had time for looks..

Now here I stand in front of what I've feared for years since I was 13..
And I see.. I'm not so bad after all.

I've started loving the way my messy black hair barely reaches the plains of my shoulders,
I've started loving the humanity in my charcoal black eyes despite how empty they'd seem,
I've started loving the splashes of pink and red on my plump body as if they were constellations.

I've realized that my sarcasm and silly personality is not measured by the numbers,
That my motherly nature doesn't have anything to do with how I'm not curvy enough,
That people care about the ways my eyes shine more than they ever will about how my gut is showing.

More importantly.. I've started loving people more now that I do love myself.
James Nigh Dec 2014
i have no need for change.
it's meaningless to me (in most senses).

so i plop $6.24 (exact change) on the counter.
he throws pillows filled with guilt at me.
and i hurriedly leave as he's shouting threads of vitriol that could trap me there forever, with my bags of guilt (what else do i have?)

commuting home is easier now.
we stand on the backs of alligators.

brave men fit them for harnesses.

but it's all good here.
until a beautiful women steps out of her house.

nothing good can come from it.

my alligator lets me off at my house.

i only have to blow on the front door at a certain angle,
my shelter has been charred so many times;
touching it might make it collapse.

my house is the only one with no electricity or running water;
noone knows why.

but i've learned to improvise.

a man on the street once told me, "it's better to be adaptable than to have no need to adapt."

i asked him "why?" but he was gone.

i unload my haul of guilt next to my collection of desires; seems fitting.

no.
i'll have them pad the totem of regrets; it's much more delicate.
and maybe if i make them more comfortable, they'll stop haranguing me every night.

every evening the floor gives out, and worse, nothing to hold onto.
but while i'm falling, a fish hook  always finds it's way to my chest and sinks into my heart.
and i just dangle there for an hour or more ("where do i keep these things?").

the floor comes back (as it always does), frozen solid.
i don't know where it goes but it is not to the core of the Earth.

as per ritual, i'll give it painful fit of body heat;
i know where i'm sleeping tonight.

i don't get any visitors,
but if i did, i'd like them to be comfortable.
Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010
**** all, **** all, **** all
Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams
**** all, **** all, **** all

There's **** all you can rip off that can't be ripped off
****** all you can spit that can't be spat
**** all you can jabber but you can wot how to fiddle the velociraptor
Page—3 girl's always ready for a chat

There's **** all you can **** that can't be ******
No one you can stuff that can't be stuffed
Sweet **** all you can ***** but you can wot how to vegetate you swanky metronome
Über—babe's loose

All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need

**** all, **** all, **** all
Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams
**** all, **** all, **** all

All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need

There's **** all you can have carnal knowledge of that isn't *****
**** all you smell that isn't uncorked
Thumbs down on the spot you lunch box be on the spot that isn't on the spot you're meant rubbing shoulders be spot on
Blonde's thick
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need

All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all
All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams
**** all is all you need
****** all is all you need
That is all you thirst
That is all you lust
That is all you desiderium
That is all you la nostalgie de la boue
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
Lorelei Adams Oct 2011
If the wind is parch white
And the universe stops
And listens to the words
Shape and form on the tip of my tongue
Vultis nosse?
Vis sentiunt?

Could I chip away the walls that separate our bodies?
Medio claustra potui dirumpere animas?

It would seem foolish, huh?

Funny, how hurt is so heavy.
Funny, how desiderium clarius est quam amor aliquando

Chant these ancient hymns
And press your lips against the sound of eternity:
*et orate
et orate
Amo te
smallhands Aug 2014
What you do to me isn't happiness
It is something else entirely
And oh, how it tortures me

-cj
Wes Noneya Feb 2017
Satietatem potare dulci nectare tua desiderium ego
Ad nos transeat, usque mane
Nostra corpora convol
Corpora nostra lusibus
Sol ortus, Sitis commoratur

Amorem vivere devora tua suavita
Vitae caelestis
Nostra ad et aut angelus diaboli
Quod viget, vitae singulis nobis,
Retorta peccatorum gaudium de salute nos

Corpora *** carnis luxuriam
Tenebrae concupiscentiis saginatus
Dolorem voluptatem servus
Impium impium fames
Sanctus diversitas peccatorum

Ita et nos, in manus nostras et amore peccatorum nos
Nos ad unum corpus est cor

Translation Latin to English

I drink my fill of sweet nectar of your desire
To pass to us until morning
Our bodies roll
Our bodies dance
The sun rises, thirst lingers

Love, live, eat your sweetness
heavenly life
Our call to the devil or an angel
That is active, the life of each of us,
Twisted sins, the joy of our salvation

Bodies with carnal lust
Dark desires fed
Pain and pleasure slave
wicked, wicked hunger
Holy diversity of sins

Even so we, in our hands, and the love of our sins
We are one body and heart

~Wes Noneya

My Latin isn't the best but I gave it a go. I like both versions.
Dolores Feb 29
I'm swinging it away
I'm giving You a hint,
I'm buying her a dark green mug,
Sugar-coated fairy plum.

Crystal drops roll down her face,
I give her presents,
A pile of things,
Shiny, sparkly, golden rings,

I buy her ships to sail away
So she could leave me any day.
All those days she chose to stay,
Every night I hear her pray.
The old toad laid calm,
metamorphosed with skyscrapers.
I felt like losing you....
Luck finds to favor
Desiderium
The Heights of purchase over less an edge
A sobbing class routes in glass in a glimpse of subtle
Peaches in rhymes and melodies
Concord in strike fuming over tendons of resilience
Come or my an affiliate to and rooted in and with greatness
Kayla Burke Dec 2020
and if you uttered in your most vulnerable space & time that eternity is how long i must wait
only blessed with the presence of you in my mind

eternity is how long i shall wait..

i may lye awake in wait of what might feel like an eternal state of desiderium  
but alas i will wait..

if to describe this ethereal feeling in the eyes of a spirit anew; elysian
i’d simply tell them my soul may never intertwine with another

in the same ways mine did with you.. <3
the path of those in love is never an easy ride,, but i love sharing my love with you <3 i will wait as long as you need me to
sofolo Aug 2023
I’m trapped, ok. Do you understand? Frozen on Delaware. Teetering on a low-head dam. Praying to be pulled into the drowning machine. Yet stuck like a glitch two seconds from death. I am the déjà vu black cat on loop. Subsisting in a broken economy where heartbeats are stutters of lace in a famished bed. Don’t you get it? I’m not even here. Or there. Call my name and listen to it echo down the halls of Lovers Lane. Ricocheted off the asphalt and taped into cardboard. Left behind in past-due storage units. A scuffed CD-R in a wi-fi world. Desiderium monolithed in bedrock. An analog fossil shipwrecked in minor key. Driftwood grief washed upon a February beach.

— The End —