"enact" poems
This is how it goes
your hands will be proxy for mine
my hands will be proxy for yours
your fingers my fingers
and my fingers yours
what I describe, you enact
told in detail so exact
Just to begin
I squeeze your *******
knead and pinch
tweak a ******
give it a tug
Stroke your tummy
work over your thighs
move up the inner
where skin is smooth
circle around, moving in
till soft contours are caressed
through pants that burn
to be removed
that pain you to wear
and I see in my mind
as you describe
the spreading, darkening patch
that fills the gusset
Now they're pulled down
removed quickly, completely
and you are revealed
spread, opened, shameless
Gentle fingertips tease
dance in circles, barely touching
yet the fire within grows
back and forth, round and round
dance the fingertips
as both reciprocate
with growing pace
and firmer touch
I hear you gasp down the line
and your breathing quickens
as you hear mine
as your excitement fuels mine
as mine fuels yours
in our feedback loop of lust
And I tell you how
my fingertip would give way
to tonguetip if I could
that I can taste you
in my imagination
fragrant, salty sweetness
with musky undertones
the tip of my tongue now circling
then flicking back and forth
beating out the rhythm
that you best harmonise with
bringing forth your moans
Then darting down, back
between wet, glistening folds
exploring each ridge and valley
working remorselessly
Breathing faster now
with animal grunts and moans
directions of pleasure gasped
breathless down the phone
As fingers again
take the lead
find the opening
slip readily within
probe, explore, ****
find that place
on your front wall
yes, just that spot
that's a little rougher
and feels sooo goood
Add a second finger
working and *******
licking and rubbing
moaning and gasping
barely intelligible now
...yess...more...yess...ohhh
are all that have meaning
Finger three joins one and two
then the pressure builds
demanding release
and shaking and thrusting
grows to shuddering
and...yes...yesss...sooo clooose
******* faster furiously
till we both explode
hearing each other's
voicing of our ecstasy
in language intelligible
only in this one context
Brains and voices return
as we bask in the afterglow
and what passes between us then
in those moments
is the deepest intimacy of all
Cynthia Pauline Jones 01/02/2014
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes
another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see
for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes
for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils
As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does
Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed
Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee
eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes
come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee
This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs
Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam
Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex
but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes
perchance unlike you common goons, she knows distinction has no comparison to thee
Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms
Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee
so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches
we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas
in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah
for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes
Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we
lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches
indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea
and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies
It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence
Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
The purest sense of understanding that allows two hearts to move beyond the borders of the conscious, thinking mind.
Without the thoughts that twist the words, that distort perception; what is conveyed, is... is... unconditional acceptance and love. In this simple concept we find solace, we find connection, we reach the precipice of and stare in awe at the beauty of the humane soul. Everything seems perfect.
By this perfection, given face value, we draw the ever permanent distinction between what what is black and what is white; what is wrong and what is right; what is virtue and what is moral travesty. For inherent to humanity is the eagerness, bias and extremity with which we represent the good and evil of this world. For who would believe that the "caretaker", wrought of good intentions, could be soiled in his actions?
The caretaker that empathizes with the troubled or broken soul is a testament to the honesty of a human heart; but he who enables others with his empathy becomes not the caretaker, but the "jailer". Through his conviction to ALWAYS be there, to sooth the hurts, to understand the pains and to maintain control... by those actions, he belittles them. The relief of empathy is only temporary. Empathy does not enact change, it is mere salve and bandage, it quells the aches for but a moment. And when they return, in their woes, the service of the empathizer becomes requirement.
For though empathy may be needed, with the power to forge a bond of deep understanding, its indiscriminate use only stunts. Personal growth, it is found by many paths in this world. We must grow and mature; let others do the same. Life is a journey with many opportunities but also many hardships, we are defined by these. If we are stunted by the empathy of others, in their quest to protect us, we will never grow, never achieve that which is greater, and never leave our "prison".
Virtue or vice... once again in the hands of the beholder.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 2:04 PM UTC
1336
Nature assigns the Sun—
That—is Astronomy—
Nature cannot enact a Friend—
That—is Astrology.
4.6k
Maverick Don’t Panic
A Bad Boy,
with a good Heart,
at the tail end,
of a head start,
“Oh he’s prolific,
he’s profanic,
he’s depressed,
he’s manic,
he’s processed,
he’s organic,
he meditates and sits,
when he just can’t stand it,
and remember this is just a test so for the love of God please don’t panic,
or take anything for granted,
**** it,
I’m a good kid,
but got some bad habits,
got a good plan too,
just have to enact it,
bad,
but not the baddest,
and if they want it,
they can have it,
the map is,
my plan and,
in other words,
the Atlas is how I Nav this,
a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir.,
no Jr. a señor,
well not in age but in position,
in other words they’re minor leagues and we’re major,
a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir,
no Jr., a señor,
like Mark,
Zuckenberg,
a stark,
contrast between Comcast,
in other words,
Light & Dark are different castes,
in communications at least,
ComCast Communications Caste,
same waves just different frequencies,
in the sea,
the internet catches,
big fish and small fry,
Dark Shadows and Bright Lights,
right?…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
Relaxing peacefully on her lap
Her fingers ran through his hair,
And,speaking soft, soothing words
Waves of calm caressed him there.
Delilah used her feminine wiles,
Honeyed words dripped from her lips,
A sense of serenity enveloped his soul
From her tender fingertips.
The secret of his amazing strength
Was reluctantly revealed to her ears
Leading to open the floodgates
Of times of sorrow and tears.
On her lap he continued to rest,
Unawares of her subtle scheming;
Carefully his luxuriant locks were cut
With scissors sharp and gleaming.
Little could Samson have known
The intentions of her black heart,
Her cunning and overpowering charm
Hit him as with a poisoned dart.
Samson’s strength suddenly left him,
As weak as a kitten he became,
Delilah had truly duped him,
Although it seemed to her a game.
As hard as granite was her heart,
No true feelings of love were there
Else, why would she hurt him
With no chance of any repair?
His life had a very sad ending,
Of this most people have heard,
It’s recorded for our perusal
Within the pages of God’s Word.
The lesson to be learned
From this ghastly episode
Is that disloyalty is as acid
That the heart can corrode.
Like a wilting yellow lily
Under the sun’s searing heat,
Samson’s strength melted
Into a pool of utter defeat.
Remember this we should
And be careful how we act
Lest our deceptive hearts
This drama we re-enact…
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
There was death and gore,
During the second world war.
Many people died in extreme violence,
Killed before they could call out to loved ones.
Young men were trained to ****
Often against their morals and will.
So when I see your 1940s weekend -
Your 'war was fun and cosy' pretence,
Your clichéd polyester and fibre glass mockery,
Aiming to re-enact a mostly imagined happy-go-lucky camaraderie -
Forgive me for not joining in,
As I happen to feel it a cardinal sin,
To idealise and romanticise a decade,
Made up of austerity, rationing and air raids.
I've read a little social history,
The 1940s were not idyllic or crime-free,
Just as now, there were heroes and villains,
Among the soldiers and civilians.
Heroism abounded but so did black marketeering,
There were brave sacrifices but also racketeering.
City-wide black-outs were a gift,
To those who would rob and grift.
Your jolly nostalgic tribute is an annual celebration,
Celebrating your own fabrication,
Of a time when the machinations of war and a crazed ideology,
Saw the near extinction of an entire ethnic minority.
I do not wish to be a party pooper,
But don't just step into the fake shoes of a fictional trooper,
Please occasionally remove your rose-tinted glasses,
To remember that beyond your nostalgic narrative of the routines of the masses,
People lived with the daily fear,
Of the likely deaths of people they held dear.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC
By Joseph Childress
“Habeus corpus!!!”
Yelled in court
From some youngin’
In the back row
As he rose
With a roll of parchment
The constitution laid dead in his hold
.
A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes
As he glances, quickly
Behind glasses
While guards escort
The disrupter of courts
To the unknown
.
All hail the corpse of freedom!
Warranted from the lack of warnings
All hell: The corporate companies cooperating
In coup d’etats
Disguised as peace keepings
Offering the
Sacrificial kings of Africa
Offing the
Head of state
In a distasteful display of feardom
Fear dominates
The war on terrorism
Military minions pillage the dominions
Of the defenseless
The final blow
Screams
Like the Final Call
In the falling of an empire
Protesters test the unrest
And spread
Words
That are read
In the weaving of our future
Detention
Sit-ins for those who
Speak during class warfare
Constitutions re-written
To constitute illegal imprisonment
Of free
Speakers,
Thinkers,
And believers
Citizens find it harder
To not pay attention
When the war in the Middle East
Is fought in America
Patriotic Acts to enact
Unpatriotic actions
That exact
Hate on the coward-less fraction
Surveillanced
As if ass-kissing will ever be in option
They’re warning us
To stay sleep with the rest
Those who awake
Will meet a force
Worse
Than the crusades
As they raid the houses
Of our brothers, sisters, and
Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins
They will come
Like thieves in the night
To undue
The debt due to society
The battle begins,
And the Martyrs are ready.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Silence. And. Rage.
The beast in the cage.
Mercy till its death.
To enact on stage,
Forever holds its breath.
Ignited. And. Away.
The beast in the cage,
Patience was its gift.
Straining with its edge,
Finally out with swift.
*For them to grieve
For them to heave.*
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 10:59 AM UTC
741
Drama’s Vitallest Expression is the Common Day
That arise and set about Us—
Other Tragedy
Perish in the Recitation—
This—the best enact
When the Audience is scattered
And the Boxes shut—
“Hamlet” to Himself were Hamlet—
Had not Shakespeare wrote—
Though the “Romeo” left no Record
Of his Juliet,
It were infinite enacted
In the Human Heart—
Only Theatre recorded
Owner cannot shut—
2.6k
An hour before midnight
On the night of 1930
Fire blazed in hearts to fight
For their Independence
And to attain their rights.
Yes, it was the night of 1930
And in the cold winds of 26th Jan
They declared to fight for our freedom
And they had a simple plan.
They promised to give Swaraj
To all of their natives
Something that was just a mirage
Until it really happened.
Yes, India got freedom
On 15th August, 1947
That was when they decided
To transform India into heaven.
They completed our Constitution
On 26th November 1949
And they had their contribution
In their hands but that date wasn't fine
To enact the book of laws.
To pay respect
To our fighters
The law was finally enacted
And was papered a bit nifty
On January 26th 1950.
(The End)
[Note: Happy Republic Day!!!]
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 6:39 AM UTC
594
The Battle fought between the Soul
And No Man—is the One
Of all the Battles prevalent—
By far the Greater One—
No News of it is had abroad—
Its Bodiless Campaign
Establishes, and terminates—
Invisible—Unknown—
Nor History—record it—
As Legions of a Night
The Sunrise scatters—These endure—
Enact—and terminate—
2.4k
Before my eyes is the war dance, the armies of light enact,
is this, one inane madness or pursuance of a vision divine?
what makes me lose my heart, to you for all the time?
White lotus of my thoughts, the blooming my every cell echoes,
we are no different, I am reminded, our union is beyond time.
Through this limitless moor, tireless miles,alone I walk,
feel your presence everywhere when the wind booms
the blazing desert sun is unforgiving, it implied this:
"I'll make him regret for his insane love, the intrepid adventurer"
even if he scorches me to death, would I ever let go of my love?"
Rain lashed, strong guests of gale pelted hailstones,
uprooted trees asked me to stop,paths became waterways,
nothing, except your face, entrenched deep in my consciousness,
was in my recall; our love,I resolved, wouldn't die, even if I fall.
White lotus of legends, in you enshrined, is my essence,
don't pretend, you are unkind and I am not in your eye shot,
for you the rules of love I'll throw to the winds, cross the river of fire,
pull out all the stops to reach you, may it be in this life or in any other .
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted
Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless
Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble
You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly
Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible
I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion
After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles
After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge
In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel
In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Do we ever forget what we see?
Do we enact what we believe?
Do we arm the spine of our diaries?
To self-detonate to remain drama-free?
Sometimes my intent indents ignorance,
But maybe I've umpired too many bazookas,
And wore out the strength of my remembrance,
Catching rockets aimed at this loser,
Loser?
What are you talking about?
Lost the L in Laughter
Lost the O in Optimistic,
Lost the S in Simplicity,
Lost the E in Expressionistic,
Lost the R in Reality,
So now my soul's succumbed to gravity,
Tragically hatching my apathy with a Whack-a-mole mallet,
A dastardly dressed casualty,
Actually,
I'm trying to reverse the black magic curse and verse my happiness,
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
I.
you never saw me in winter:
shearling fur and kettlebell boots
my outer crust cracking from one step outdoors.
I wear socks to bed
and smoke Belmonts to cover
my breath with toxins
instead of you.
II.
I never wear pants when I’m with you
mostly because I’m hoping to re-enact me walking
over the Millennium Bridge
in May.
if the wind pushed any further
up my skirts, it would force my lungs right out my throat.
my hotel room called for us
but you were on a plane to Norway
and I was in my head.
III.
the last time we had ***
you told me you’d finish me off first next time
but I’m always like your backup song for karaoke,
in case someone takes your first choice.
you never:
acknowledged that my rice was shaped like a heart
and yours like a star at dinner,
ask me what my tattoos mean,
but always ask me if I’m pregnant.
you’re a roll of film that needs be developed but
I keep smearing the edges with my fingers
and scanning the red light over myself.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
Her lips scream
" KISS ME "
Then whisper
" kiss me now "
At once
a thousand nerve-ends wake
electricity
rampant beneath
tender
sweet
candyfloss skin
Anticipating contact
her inner rhythms quicken
from ‘ bump-n-grind ’
to ‘ swing-beat ’
Hearts play along
to the new tune now
She smiles with those eyes
the message of her mouth
Delight
I understand at once
Replying
without reaching for a word
No second thoughts invade
the privacy of spontaneity
I just move to accept
this luscious invite
In a flash
ecstatic urges awaken
erotica in our minds
as we close
our telltale eyes
a split second before
the precious
perfect impact
Seems magnetically
heads tilt
Moving closer
till our silently screaming
half-opened mouths
knowingly meet
in once vacant space
Intentions projected
instantly accepted
Mouths
express new feeling
Tongues
take on new meaning
Suggestions
of intensity requesting
passions
yet to be fulfilled
The warm silk
snake of temptation
reacts to vibration
Twisting
Rolling
Curling
*******
Chewing
Playfully biting
Unspoken promises
Exciting
She plays a sensual game
Active / Passive
Strong / Soft
Control / Yield
Secrets revealed
Releasing for a moment
our mesmeric communion
Poised in breathlessness
we stare
as we subtly swallow
the essence
of our watery endeavour
Eyes smile
that insatiable smile
Still thirsting
chemical reactions
conceived by our emotions
Speed of light sensations
send shivers down our spine
Time
sleeps for a moment
Lost
in a fragment of dreamscape
we too escape
“ Mmmmmmm ”
The gentle sigh
waves through the air
We lose contact
with our unwelcome surrounds
as once again we entwine
to re-enact
the passage of our bliss
A repeat
of erogenous stimulation
replays the symphony of desire
in a higher vibration
Mouths in motion
mirror dancing
Automatic reactions
assume control
Whilst my mind
Is with her mind
my Soul
is with her Soul
Her grip tightens
Wanting more
wanton more
Red-hot
lava in the veins
seeking to surface
in a fiery eruption
Our watery essence
Seems to feed the flames
Yearning
I hear her
Burning
I feel her
Softening
Stiffening
Pulsing
I'm in her.
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 3:49 PM UTC
Clothed in our fancy garb of colored cloth,
We spin around the ballroom in our dance.
We float about on wings of dainty moth.
We dream our dreams of myst'ry and romance.
And yet why do we wear these feathered masks?
We hide our face because it's all an act.
We're players on the stage: it is our task
To entertain the crowd and to enact
A show where we take on another role.
We play the part that they assign us to,
And to please them is our only goal.
We dance for them until they say we're through.
When we conform we join this strange ballet,
And watch our own identities decay.
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 8:16 PM UTC
1689
The look of thee, what is it like
Hast thou a hand or Foot
Or Mansion of Identity
And what is thy Pursuit?
Thy fellows are they realms or Themes
Hast thou Delight or Fear
Or Longing—and is that for us
Or values more severe?
Let change transfuse all other Traits
Enact all other Blame
But deign this least certificate—
That thou shalt be the same.
1.8k
I have the shape of the institution.
Each email address is a human.
They are known by their words and actions.
The whole wide world is just a fraction
of all I do not know. Expansion
and contraction, breathe in, out, meditation
on existence, non-existence, creation
and duration. I have no explanation
for fusion, fission, taxonomic relations
or artificial classification.
More I do not know: locomotion
by combustion, electron separation
and transportation via superconduction
which supports the idea of the unified nation.
What girls are like behind their eyes. ************
a useful restraint on overpopulation.
The story of a life, my life, any life, cohesion
must be rationed, conjured, a fiction
about a vexed, tenacious town, its rail station
truck stop, high school, night spots, recreations
the temporary citizens enact visions
dream-like orations, ballets, conflagrations
to in the end receive in annals honorable mention
from family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, institutions.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
It is a constant pressure underneath my breastbone
That whispers evil at all hours of the day
'I could rip the life from a human without remorse'
'I could bleed them out with a smile on my face'
It is an unending notion in every corner of my brain
That, had I the motivation, I would immediately claim
'I could ingest a deadly concoction and disappear in a second'
'I could enact any complicated process that ends with me slain'
It is a nightly terror that follow me through daybreak
That renders me speechless with both fear and liberation
'I could let go of control and forget about mere consequence'
'I could finally allow my brain to drown in this sensation'
Homicidal. Suicidial. Manical.
I exercise control against these urges.
Massacre. Exhaustion. Insanity.
I wonder when I will forget this.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
The artist is as stable
as he is self aware.
Reflecting his world,
projecting on yours;
He fulfills fantasies,
fears & fun,
in his work and
Out of the alleyway.
A captivating mind
held captive by
A need for novelty,
The artist must express
his thoughts--
Dark in private made
Light in public--
or enact them out:
An eventual addict
or shiny superstar.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
Magnetic electricity courses through my lungs
Vibrating my heart in its path
How can written words enact this much damage
Yet heal my wounds nearly as fast?
Your heart lies broken from years of abuse
At the hands of others and yourself
And all I want is to hold you
While you fit the pieces together again
My mind clouds with panic
As I don't know what you think or feel
But I crave your approval uncontrollably
As I let my feelings out of their protective cages
Is it lust or love
That keeps returning us to each other
Or are we simply comfortable
in the company of a familiar flame
Do you feel what I feel?
A connection beyond our chemistry
That makes me care more for you
Than I do about myself
While I'm not available to you
All I want is for you to want me
But you deserve so much more
Than this broken life you've been handed
I want to write you a poem
That embraces your beauty in every line
But words will always fail to describe
The depth of your humanity
Incomparable strength has kept you breathing
And your gorgeousness takes my breath away
You are an amazing friend
And I think I may still love you
I'm sorry I can't love you the way you think you want me to.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC