"emptys" poems
There is a soft throb to this.
All my poems have long names.
My heart is always racing; it's also
always aching.
Beats like a clock. Tick. Tock.
Emptys me like a bottle of wine.
His kisses, like nails, like teeth; against
my spine.
heat, like heavy breathing, like unbelievable pleading; pierce my mind.
His memory. Like sand paper. Like pierced lips. Like skinny dipping. Like unmade memories. Like a life I've led before. Like lies, like keeping score. Like being scorned.
Like cuddling before dawn. Like being safe and being warm. Like being scolded and being warned. Like being allowed and being torn. Like being kissed.
Like being missed.
Like being kissed.
Like being kissed.
And kissed.
Like heat.
He's, like promises of enjoying defeat.
Of relaxing into new sheets.
Like being kissed.
There's a soft beat to this.
Like being scolded. Like being kissed.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
Winst
.
~
But O' you Winst,my darling friend!
Its so much than magic
How I counts you than tens
When I number and marks my friends
.
~
O' you Winst of spirit smiles
Let me tell you ,how best
I emptys the person I pile
When we embrace and gentle press
.
~
But O' you charming Winst
Do you know your eyes lies the honey gardens
So full of roses and spells,and envince
Edens apples and serpent pardons
.
~
But O' you Winst! A star model
A goddess daring in desires
How sweet,my sights,you bottle
When you poses,and sparks your fires
.
~
But O' you beauty to behold,Winst!
How sweet is it when you snakes
Deep in our minds,when you're in our midst
As our heart explodes and breaks
.
~
But O' you provocative body,Winst!
Melting of a thousand clay and aroma rhymes
But veils the poets works, your mist
Hope you unravels our pride with time
.
~
Again,O you my darling friend
Let's keep writing this stories of pleasure
In endless perfection,but to end
Trailing the beginnings of our time with worth measure
©Historian E.Lexano
™Recalcitration With Excellence
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
The pearls,
Oh how they remind me of the ocean
The cool breeze, the waves slowly crashing
The birds (I forget what they're called, seagills I think)
Yeah, them, flying through the sky and landing on the shores
All the happy memories I once had
All the happy times
Now taken away from me
Snatched right from my fingers
And now here I am left cold
Cold and naked in an empty room, all black
With no soul left,
no emotions,
feelings,
nothing,
no memories
A slave to myself, a slave to the only things I know
Toture to the soul
No mercy, that's all I've known
All he's taught me
Death be upon thy soul were the only words I were taught
He snatched them all, all my memories
And all my happy thoughts
He naked me, naked my soul, naked my mind
And left me there
In that dark empty room with all the voices
The voices
Oh yes, it was the voices that kept me in agony
They kept whispering
"The end is coming" "The end is coming"
Beatened down and broken
There was nothing left to live for,
So I ended it
I don't know where I got it
But sonehow a knife when through my heart
Ending all the agony and within those last few moments,
I remembered
I saw the pearls again one last time
The pearls that reminded me of my memories
Funny what love can do to you
Funny how it emptys you
How it leaves you naked with only the voices to clench to
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
I dreamt I were someone else
That my mind was just a little less of a hell
Instead of racing,
or being weighted constantly
It was as light as the sky,
and careless as the sea
Could that ever truly, once again be me?
For this feeling I can only write but poetry
Unless someone emptys the 8 pounds
From inside my skull
I don't know if I'd ever be free
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
beautiful viper
her soft shine hides
the sharp edges in her eyes
she is my perfect intent
my moment sought
my hope
her lean form in the shadows
is covered in a thin sheen of sweat
her fingers streach out grasping at the air pleading
but her cold thoughts show
her pale hunched anger at the sidewalks edge
she emptys her lust on the table
her broken eyes bright
and pumps her blown veins for poisons breeding
its her avaid hope to spread taint and sour
her body the midnight oil of twisted ruin
her mind the meat of the apothocarys to the souless
her drug the sleepless dreamland between dusk and dawn
i would surrender to kiss her
i would die to feel her heat next to me
touch that soft memory
to suckle on her disease like mothersmilk
and languish in the slow death of pale monster
her taste and words on each moment
her cold lips caress and thin fingers fumble
would be the heaven iv hoped for all this torn life
she is my perfect intent
my perfect moment
my hope
my love
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
What a thing to have and lose. That moment between then and now. The salt barely leaving your lips but already lost on your tongue. Those shivers between hot and cold and perfect. When I think back to the memories, my temperature changes, my stomach emptys, and tears flow. I can picture it right here, right now. And those smiles we had in those memories make me question my current direction. The need between necessity and desire. So I sit here and wonder, if any future moment will ever compare to the one that was lost between the salt on my lips and tongue
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC