"engorged" poems
#
Each body part
sizzled in pure pleasure
in the blissed wake
of your oral efforts
brought forth the waves
of rapturous delight...
Spurs poetic inspiration
in equal liberation
of desires to please.
Bodies transpose
in fluid motion
as brazen eyes meet.
Savor the voluptuous image before you.
Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo
before they roll to the back of your head.
On all fours
knees between your thighs
tips of swollen breast
caress your chest
tasting fresh honey
upon lips in a kiss.
Ripples of ardor
hover
by wet trails
of sensual kisses
suckling towards
the apex.
Breathe in
the slow motion pace
that pulsates eagerness
to the fore tumescing bulge
leaking with anticipation
of viscous lava.
Tickles of silken hair
against flesh edges closer.
Emerging subtle grumbles
in deep resonance
betray your impatience .
Hands tightly twine
in tangled hair
to maneuver
the treasure hunt.
Licked lips pause
at the sight of fire
burning in
glazed gazes
before engulfing
the throbbing member.
Plump ruby lips
greet velvety texture
in a slow deep dive.
Tongue curls around
the flavor
in a dulcet embrace.
Moans release
as grip tightens
in my hair
settles the
rhythmic pace
to taste in an
oscillating dance.
The masculine aroma of heady musk
lingering there, arouses my appetite.
With my enthusiasm
attuned to
your preferred rhythm
suckling, slurping
surface and dive
in measured unison.
Break of breath
allows tongue
freedom to roam below,
licking, soft kissing
the tender hammock
of testicles.
Tongue and lips escalate higher
to mount another assaulting dive
deeper in the depths
of the cusp in cavity.
Wetted fingers
probe even lower
circling superficially
as gasp escapes
your heavy breath;
flaming eyes lock.
Finger dips in
with expert finesse
gorging hardened growth
within a wrapped hand.
Thighs tighten
with rocking grip.
Head thrusts onward,
drilling forward
in each dive.
Salvia slips
fingers grip
lips dip
Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity
of volcanic eruption ...
HALTS
assault
Pace retracts.
Loosened lips kiss tip.
*“Soon sweetheart, your time will ***
inside me as we surrender to synergy."*
#
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
Exploring the outlines
of submission
I find dominance.
Will holding instinct
underwater
just to prove it can.
Topping from the bottom:
use me
the way I want to be used
or I will ***** holes
in your engorged ego
by being bored.
My one control:
showing up to submit.
Your one duty:
Taking what I offer.
Keep taking it
possess me
wrap me around yourself
tight like the skin of a drum
beating me
banging me
trapped in that rhythm
I am finally free.
Don’t you dare stop ******* me
or if you must
at least have the decency
to tell me what to do next.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
Tell me why it seems like the walls are closing in
Tell me why my hopes they're stretched far and thin
Tell me why my dreams still struggle in this fight
Tell me why every time I draw air but it feels so tight.
Tell me why in this turmoil my heart does wallow
Tell me why lifes' lessons by the heapfuls I choke to swallow
Tell me why I'm somewhat free but then again I am not
Tell me why I really do have but I haven't really got.
Tell me why I try to sleep many a restless night
Tell me why I am so afraid of many a fearful fright
Tell me why I still feel the way I have felt before
Tell me why I ask many questions which leaves me broken and sore.
Tell me why so much emotions run amok within me
Tell me why I look yet I do not really see
Tell me why despondence is back; it's here to haunt
Tell me why such uncertainties always beckons to taunt.
Tell me why I want more but I am quite contented
Tell me why I have to accept the path I've very much resented
Tell me why I already know but I still keep on asking
Tell me why it seems like the reasons are in every way lacking.
Tell me why I feel so happy but in fact I am so sad
Tell me why it all seems unfair but I have to be glad
Tell me why I found love in the most unfortunate circumstance
Tell me why to a mournful tune I am stuck in dance.
Tell me why my heart feels engorged but I can't release it all
Tell me why I am so scared but I would still want to fall
Tell me why I feel you close when you're farther than far
Tell me why it seems incredulous that we share the same star.
Tell me why I long to give you more when I can't this instant
Tell me why I can feel better but I seem so resistant
Tell me why sometimes I look up and curse at my luck
Tell me why I refuse to focus on courage that I really should pluck.
Tell me why I lay in bed dreaming of a place far away
Tell me why I find myself moping more and more each day
Tell me why I chose to be naive and in fate I do give trust
Tell me why time and time again it just gets ground to dust.
Tell me why I feel so beaten and weak when I should be strong
Tell me why I am so familiar in a place I don't belong
Tell me why I have to live with a mask on my face
Tell me why I feel like a marionette strung up by lace.
Tell me why I dug deep when these words make me cry
Tell me why the tears still trickle when my eyes are dry
Tell me why I share this when I know you would feel bad
Tell me why I would even spout the words that make you sad.
Tell me why these painful wounds I didn't choose to lick
Tell me why I didn't let them heal but instead I would pick
Tell me why I feel as though I am quite addicted
Tell me why it seems like I enjoy the dark I've inflicted.
Tell me why sometimes I question, the things you see in me
Tell me why you've said it many times but I don't really see
Tell me why I haven't drifted far when I should've a while ago
The reason is you; because you have chosen to love me.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Your serene lips could liquefy petals of a rose
With twigs on your spine
Consuming my dreams as you lure me
Stretching as the stars shine
Tangled in the ocean breeze
Beyond beautiful you steal my soul
Our hands unify in the shade of the unknown
Tonight we step beneath the flesh
As the path of dust disappears
I want to drink from your collar bone
Every crevice I will endear
Following the maze of your fantasy
Impeccable skin inviting me in
The anticipation intoxicates my desires
As I travel your outline I stiffen for you
Eager to gratify the valley of your liquid pearls
You whimper as I dissolve your engorged delicacy
As you spasm and tremble you ignite the evening air
A Magnetic exuberance of fervor swept over me
Our swollen, lustful lips surrender again
As your majestic heart nurtures our love
I famine to have your tongue renew me
Your quivering hands beginning to stimulate me
You brush against my hardness lightly
I stir inside my stomach
Restless and blazing I await
Teasing the tip my luster rises
As your manhood swims inside my mouth
You swell my peaks, passionate yet tender
You linger feeling my need
Slipping into your enticing throat
My fingers clutching your hips
Connecting with my core as I absorb you
I quiver and cry out loud
With handfuls of starlight and luster
We create a haven just for us
You enter me so carefully
As we wither and blend
Our flesh is stamped together
A serene ambiance is swaying with us
As you whisper and writhe beneath me
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Tied with your wrists attached to your ankles, pretty in pink.
Your mind goes numb, as you lay helpless trying to think
Think of what is to become, as your sir hovers ever so near
Holds your head in my hands, looks in your eyes a silent stare
My lips touch your soft lips engaged in a passionate kiss
I move away you reach wanting more, my lips you do miss
Open your mouth wide, the gag is placed inside, now mute
Straddling your head I stare in to your eyes, love is absolute
Between your legs I slide, my tongue in to my wet slit
My mouth ******* and licking your nice engorged ****
Your backside is invaded with a nice cold steel plug
You wiggle in bliss, your heart races as if on a new drug
My soft subtle ***** drips your love on to the ground
My *** I hold in my hands so very nice and round
My tongue deeper in to you, as you convulse and ***
I release your ******* your heart is beating like a drum
You turn over and get on all fours, you are such a good pet
I come behind you and mount you, waiting anxious no fret
Enter you deep, enter you hard, your release a loud moan
My **** invading you ever so deep never again shall we be alone
My **** ready to explode, as I smack my *** with a bare hand
You *** again as I fill you deep, my seed mixing as we planned
Remove your gag hear your words, the words of love I need to hear
Collapse together rest for a moment, eye to eye stuck in a stare
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 2:46 PM UTC
They came into this world
Starving, pathetic, and in need of work
Computer beings seeking profit,
We called them millennials and,
Like bacilli to honey,
They will eat themselves to death;
I’ll be waiting with an open casket.
When the time comes,
Issued as both punishment and reward,
Fitted just for lazy things,
And it shall be translucent,
As all human desires are
An empty display
Of material just as ubiquitous.
I’ll be the funeral director,
Engorged by suffering,
When the time comes
I’ll be waiting with an open casket.
The skin that does not bleed
When struck, requires only a few
Strikes more,
The arms which do not tire
When pushed, require only a few
More loads,
The will that does not break
When overburdened, requires only a few
Lashes more—
When the time comes
I’ll be waiting with an open casket
And let the ocean, in pacificity
Carry them to the collective
Dead of this world, to churn in anonymity
For eternity; a true hell to the ego,
I’ll be waiting with an open casket
Just to send it off with a nudge.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
Despicability is the foundation to their life
For them it is intrinsic
Genetically encoded
Simplistic
Poetically eroded
Reprehensible at best
**Unscrupulously callous
Secrets and facts, they conveniently
ingest
Distorted byproducts, they release to the
masses
To aid their campaign; a forked tongue
fest**
Pathetic and unapologetic
A beast armed to the teeth
Imported bypasses to increase the flow of police
A weakness and an act,
They so vehemently attest
**Harvesting greens off the branches of
the people
Pockets engorged with wads and folds
Crushing blue collars at the lower levels
As they sit atop their pyramids of gold**
Today they sip champagne
To celebrate their reign
Tonight we'll skip being humane
To feed them excruciating pain
**You've incited this coup with ill-thought
deterrents
Now herald the arrival of the scourge
Down with lopsided governments
Tonight... All we would topple! Tonight we purge!**
Justin G
ryn**
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
he, hardly fit,
sleeps fitfully
he, like a baby,
up and down at 2am
the cerebrum racked,
like a street *** so needy,
for a low caloric,
non-alcoholic snack
pickles - the almost zero solution,
dill in particular,
or even the slightly bad boy cousins,
the buttered variety
so in his customized original
100% sleeping skin gear,
standing in front of the shiniest fridge
gleaming,
his unfortunate reflection somewhat
steamy,
indecisive, which, his pickle, to to choose,
which to eat, completely complete,
to celebrate his dietetic restraint
so she, the yoga ballerina lioness,
finds him upright but not uptight,
leaving him in an awkward
so to speak, poem, pickling,
naked and speechless,
as the mouth is fully engorged
and on point
she summarizes
most eloquently,
the ****** and the crudités and the et. al.,
with a succinctly pithy observation:
*"ah, I see (me wincing),
still crazy after all these years*
...and other stories*
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
look me in the eye and tell me that you love me
or was it all a sad story that you unconsciously believed
while you raided the fridge and fornicated wildly
too late is not really an acceptable position
and later on is usually an example of indecision
and sometimes specimens reject their predicaments
especially if they are eventually going to be your dinner
i am sure that i am here to usher in a new authority
resurrected like a phoenix i must be stronger than before
so even if forever is often equivalent to never
and september is the month of seven (or was it nine) serpents
that are to be reborn in the dawn of Time's obsidian
as our minds have spent oblivion in the forges
of turgidly engorged shores, torn from their former continents
as forms are always gripped in hands who choose intolerance
take administrators, lawyers, bureaucrats and clerks;
as examples of this; par excellence
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
In the amber sunroom the regal canary perches,
Surveying his sun soaked kingdom from a golden throne,
Positioned just below the thick wooden rafters...
They might as well have been treetops.
The weathered oak armoire below, their immovable trunk;
The oversized tank, teeming with exotic fish, his ocean.
Through the translucent shades, the engorged sun turns orange,
And settles on the domes of the distant dragon trees.
Soon the silver haired woman, with "dust in the creases of her face,"
Will open the arched doorway, and into the sultry Moroccan air he will spring
Majestic yellow wings propelling him above the treetops,
Diving towards his vast ocean, circling between the dusty antiques,
Reveling in his glorious freedom, yet always returning,
For that is only the penultimate pleasure of every evening;
She will always call him home with the suculent scent
Of a luxurious dinner: mango, pomegranate, and papaya.
A sharp, tumbling trill disrupts his peaceful musing,
A flashing crimson streak leaves a momentary swatch,
Emanating from the open window, invading his territory and ending atop the amoire.
He refuses to look at her, intent on maintaining appearances.
She comes and goes so freely, innocent of any thoughts for me.
Feathers ruffling with discontent; jumping, leaping without direction.
Seeking the highest perch, closest to being free; only to be confined
By the bronze rods of social correctness, locked with the brass clasp of my own fear.
His little lion's heart becomes a battering ram,
Smashing against the inside of his toothpick ribcage.
Rapid fire thoughts soon dissolve in an attempt to compose
A song that is worthy of her. And so he waits, and watches her turn,
Red wings outspread, escaping back into the evening sky.
That blazing orange ball, finally sinking beneath its own weight,
And the failing strength of the mighty dragon trees,
Now merely blackened silhouettes of their former glory.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
Christmas.... ugh
Isn't this a perplexing situation?
I have an interesting question...
First, I know this poem is not perfection
But does any one know what it's like
To be utterly alone on what's supposed to be
A most joyous day, surrounded by friends and family?
That annoying cherubic man
Won't be visiting my home
It's just an idiotic holiday
And no one cares I'll be alone
No homemade Christmas dinner
I might make myself a grade A steak
I'll raise a toast to myself
Nothing to boast about
Probably just whiskey, bottom shelf
I immense-ly hate Christmas
Say I'm dense-ly, I don't care
Been that way as long as I can remember
From the makeshift tree, when I was three
To being stuck homeless in a snow drift at sixteen
I can count all the "merry Christmas's" I've received
On one hand
It's never been merry, or happy
Most I got was engorged on stuffing
And a poorly cooked, dried out Turkey
No presents under the tree
With a gift tag saying Melanie
You know what? Sorry Quin,
but this is too **** depressing...
I quit...
Tequila, Velveeta
Distant, instant
Solemn, Gollum
Under-wear, I don't care
Tiny, finely
Flightless, loneliness
Hindrance, appliance
Backward, forward
Orange, purge
Rooftop, please stop
Kringle, Pringles
Ha! Invitations?
No...
Salutations...
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
by
rgpage
in this late hour on a mid-august night
the day's torturous heat now just a trace.
with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright
and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate.
naked to the night on a blanket she waits
from a crystal flute she sips her wine.
its acrid taste makes her body brace,
and her silky skin to shine.
our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be,
she's made her nest in secluded style
away from prying eyes, alone in the night
she patiently waits for her lover to arrive.
her warm body bathes in the evening breeze
eyes closed she lets her fingers roam,
her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze
'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown.
laying a hand to her most sensitive spot
the cradle of life's onset if you will,
her first finger eases itself into place,
and deftly a second does follow.
slowly and softly in clockwise rotation
wishing it were her lover's trace;
the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion
her soul now wrapped in silk and lace.
with quiet stealth on an old forest path
her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover,
spotting his sensual prey's silhouette
naked and silent he slips toward his lover.
feeling his presents her eyes slightly open
towering above her as tall as the trees,
she sees her muscular handsome young swain
in time to see him drop to his knees.
leaning in he gives her soft kiss'
his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth,
slowly and gently he brings her along, with a
touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth.
reaching forth and touching his face
and gently pulling him down to her lips,
they lightly touch then drift apart
as he makes his way to her ******* and hips.
the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts,
every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss,
as a hungry lion studies his prey
not a single sound made, nor morsel missed.
seductively firm he leads her to ******
she honors his every wish and whim.
knowing his every move leads to pleasure
from pleasure to rapture time and again.
as the moon crosses over making way for the day,
and the star's disappear in the sun's early light.
our lady awakens alone where she lay
her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
my turtle doves are pondering the broth of my head space.
tingling.
they gibberish the nest and lay eggs of dragons that still believe in dragons.
they wish for thick lightning in the lustrous void. they beak the shell of no made thing.
the Eternal Hum.
the one Always that had Never Begun.
Only Ever, Ever Been.
and That's It's
Name.
my turtle doves are robbing the bog of it's undead wyrms. they swoop in the morning.
down down down
to the gamma ray golf course lawns
of our suburban necrophilia. the one with the empty dreams in their peanut butter stars.
the one
with the eggshell Camary Toyotas and the delinquent epiphanies.
n' more ice cream than Ben n' Gerry's Wet Dream of Selling
More ******* ice cream
than You
can Imagine.
Plus One.
my turtle doves are holding me hostage. in the dizzy breach. of god's contract.
a damp shade of misspent youth. the Old Way.
seasoned by the Eons
and the swollen Love of the First Love.
engorged in the Kingdom of Desire
like a fat mosquito. Sated on Cyclopian forearms.
and the shoulders of Giants
on a small blue world
in your mouth.
just sayin'.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
***** feet
***** of them ache
they're dry
all dried out, moisture to face and digestive tract make little difference
but comfort a little sort of; maybe
subdue to replenishing
skip the pain with a drink fucken, fucken drink fucken
dust lingers in the brain, it swirls
a cloud of ground envelops the shape of u
u become covered
u have a layer,
salty,
and dry
and 'organic'
(surely bio (though im not sure what is or why are))
full city boy, suburban boy, not particularly gritty boy
along side hippies
and volunteers all tripppy
and unwashed, and un plastic
yet forcefully hemped
drunk of micro beer
and burnt brown and blotchy red
and wire-y
and dry
and matted
as if nothing really matters except for principles
misguided and randomly enforced
feel like a husk; peanut shell
insides swallowed by the mouth of the party embodied
a monsterous sweaty man tanned and thickly bearded
and beered
fat dreads fall around and surround u; a forest of hair
a circle encroaching of fuzzy pillars in fibres
entrapped inside them; feel their lingering time matted hold
a wealth of effort to become unkempt; they are bars
they are walls
and the FACE!
……………………… ………………………………… oh
looming down, wafts of armpit vapour cloud; a looming puft that surrounds
engorged by the scent as it circles u, the mouth that lowered onto u
chews u and spills bits of u
chomp chomp
protein for vegetarians; u; ur rigour ur vigour ur guts
eaten in a flurry of chomps and slurps and it crunches
and it grates
like the rocks on the ***** of ur feet it grates
u are digested
and reused
as they would like
but for them; for a collective u dived into
for fun
2 days to peddle ur wares
to progress ( admittedly through some days of regression…)
for all humans, and Humans; for fun
on monday we will repent
for the damages waged on the inside of the body
and the outsides too
for some gain
i guess on this which we settle
for always for display for fun
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
To write of Love, of Heaven, and of God,
Hills of joy, o'er which Angel pursued
Of that Boy, a sublime hippie shepherd,
Who in Heart the wisdom of Heaven had,
My pen, it labours, I give sweat and blood,
To paint world in cerise, a sweet red flood:
Or Prussian blue, depending on the scene,
Let Poets tell true folk from chess piece Kings,
Feign benevolence, when they are mean,
Who strut and rule above, superior things,
Who on the carcass of the suffering wean,
Drunk on power, Almighty sovereigns.
To write of Love, Heaven, apart from days,
Spent in drudgery at whim of Lords,
Who sit engorged by gold, wealth as they graze,
Upon the fruits yield by the mass, that horde,
As mass toil deep 'neath sun's sweltering rays,
To give and barter time they can't afford.
But they will be the ones in Heaven crowned,
As all time vindicates the plight of souls,
Who in port, or wine, have never drowned,
Rich gluttony the faithful mind abhors,
Upon which Saints and angels incensed frown,
So to tyrant's whims take pious war.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:39 AM UTC
that’s all I know, title, subject undisclosed,
new morn amourning arrives, when writing~writhing
hunger, comes and remains till fufillment,
sometimes, nagging, sometimes roaring, completion is
the satiation satisfaction when the pouring/
spilling is from within to without, topping off
the nearest receptacle with hugger-muggery,
beauty jumbled, elegantly jagged linen creased
the it of it, must be done, so my heart un-seizes,
breathing to nearly next to normal, yet the distance there
incroyable, inch or mile, meter matters not, until closed it’s a
chasm rupturing,
fingers grasping my temples, to hold the
jumbled tumbling innards within, redirected towards my
screaming fingertips, hoping, relief will come sooner,
making room until the throat and lungs engorged,
when~with this selfsame need returns
on the morrow
if, when,
my eyes open,
and yesterday itself
is a writ,
a realization accomplished
~~~~~~~
perhaps, you recognize yourself?
perhaps, you reconcile yourself?
Sep 26, 2023
Sep 26, 2023 at 9:54 AM UTC
The air is burly
trees harvest soldiers on the line
combines, threads, manure, life--
A whole world lost amidst the flats
Saplings are the next season's
Almonds, Apples, Dates,
Waiting for food shelves and stockrooms
packed in banana boxes and given a place
They will find the plates of capitol city dwellers
They will be engorged far away from their origins
The Sierra-- oh the great plutonic mass
They are grey from age, peppered with white whiskers of snow
They are asking to be known as the interior
Pilgrims who traveled over their spines, seeking these fertile swampland
Now airstrips and dirigibles
The edges of clouds on the valley, the deserts and the mountains like folds of a book
they crackle in the sun and the skin of the earth shrinks in its gaze
Migratory birds dance in the fields, the lowly clang of bell
Bleached american flags tell us this is the land
The land of things and endless breadth
This is only California, but the majesty of it
a gem valley encased by the rocks, in silicates
A roaming place for cows, wanderers, farmers, dreams
Where the only edge of things is the mountains, saying
-Climb me, surmount me, lay me under your deeds-
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
All across your body,
lines written in rainbow thread.
A heart is only
so much weight, wait...why?
Would they dust your body
for the remnants?
What they have found,
is it hesitant?
Engorged like a hibiscus pistil,
covered in pollen
dripping with dew.
This is no request, but an order:
Extend your tongue
til it pulls with a bit of pain from behind your lower teeth,
open up,
and
prepare
to
swallow.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
an old familiar,
an adversary of the first degree,
when we wrestle,
me and this god
disguised as an angel disguised as man,
the door to where we tangle,
clicks shut with a perceptible oval sounding,
a trumpet announcing commencement of the festivities,
that we are
Occupado
no stray observers permitted in,
the room entrances locked,
someone's two hands upon each temple,
(cannot be mine, for)
inside we combat literally,
"mano-a-mano"
hand to hand,
word to word,
gradually, continuously,
up close and personally,
one on
One
over the course of a lifetime,
each battle named,
famously borrowed and thus recorded,
Agincourt, Waterloo, Gettysburg, Leningrad, Ðiên Biên Phú,
for the record keeping purposes of our unforgiving ******
historian
the rules of engagement somewhat flexible,
biting, choking, eye gouging,
kicking when down, not just legal,
encouraged, no holds barred,
when we wrestle,
the dirtier the
better
take turns declaring a victor,
for that matters little, truly,
just a record keeping notation,
the battle and its aftermath,
the waves of pain inflicted,
the casualty count engorged,
is the greatest glory,
dans une manière de
parler
though sent away the children,
our earthly goods,
designating them purportedly,
non-combatants observers,
yet 'no rules' meant
they could be accidentally drawn in,
non-combatant status does not prevent them
from being freely captured or
killed
the conflict ongoing,
no one ever calls for a truce,
for both unequal adversaries know,
no quarter will ere be given,
and though the tide shifts,
each individual battle produces as always,
a winner and a
loser
noisy affairs,
long after the battle,
the slain yet scream,
perhaps I am confused,
perhaps it is the day's survivors,
announcing that sadly,
they are still
alive
it must be the latter,
for here I am writing and recording,
and though alone,
I hear an ever growing louder,
gouging sine wave scream piercing,
daring my soul to leave my wracked
body
for though mortal wounded,
I am therefore
both dead and alive,
but which more so,
none can surely
say
this conflict remains
unconcluded
the pain in my hip, now
everywhere,
my Jacob, now, Israel,
marker
so visible even if itself,
unseen
3:59am
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
sounds of the engorged worm’s lumbering steps,
they pierce not so stinging as the golden glow of orbs outside your window.
Quietude will find no home here.
neither will that longed-for sense.
what we want,
the ‘soul sleep,’
rests further,
further still, and away from finger tips,
gently rest me in myself,
to sweetly mine the interiors of subterranean caverns,
within which, we held exiled domain for millennia before we were men.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
I seek greatness,
Not perfection but
Something more.
I want jagged edges,
And symmetry long broken.
I want rhythm and beat,
rhyming galore, but flowing,
so fleet, off the tongue of my keyboard,
into your minds, drilled bore
never to be filled but left void,
never to be lit up or explored
save by my depravity, the
wanton insanity that is my quest
for eternality, for remembrance
for the suddenness by which
a heart attack do prance
tip toeing around your soul,
twisting it in, and lithely
make you beg for the encore,
even still won't be satisfied,
I'll become who I am,
The best version of myself,
Ravenous, more, than any lion,
Tiger, or engorged man,
Nay, even if I look down upon highest perch,
like The Raven itself,
Even if Poe himself, were to raise up again,
Weeping, claiming oh, John, your poetry,
Nay, your beating, has me breathing,
Still will I deny that drum,
Even then will I be empty,
and so this emotion that I am releasing,
Will self servedly do nothing,
You can not destroy that which is not living,
Only close your eyes, and forget quickly,
For if you let my greatness roam,
Oh upon your shoulders I will loan,
my delicious insanity upon the world,
And the toll my greatness,
shall collect,
will be worth more than all the gold.
And I'll simply just,
waste it away,
In search of some greatness,
greater still!
Some vision, some sign,
that is meaningless except,
like happiness,
In the pursuit, never to be found.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC
HER *****
dedicated to Tamara
Her bosom...so swollen....so full
Bulging beneath her blouse
Straining against her huge nursing bra
I long to suckle her deeply, till the end of time itself
Her ******* thicken....becoming so *****
She sighs deeply....her let-down gently washes over her
She smiles...guiding my hands as we unbutton her blouse
Her ***** takes my breath away
Her bulging cleavage qiuvers at my touch
Engorged.....veined
I bury my face....my lust.... in her *****
Savoring her womanhood
She unhooks a cup....her huge ****** weeping
Longing for my hunger
I suckle her deeply....lovingly....wantonly
Her warm milk, life's sweet nectar
Flows...flows......flows...flows
Feeding my desire...feeding my love for her
My love for the warmth of her *****
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
sometimes
I wish that I could get out of here, away from the dead thud of your approach.
You remanifest with a mouth full of flat line, nothing’s changed.
A man with the same nature about him, the same engorged rhetoric toward life
I wished to bury in my garden long before.
A wound in the backyard, untraceable and
unremarkable.
Not of my heart but of Her Red Sea in which you reside now
Only as blood.
Buried along with my naked, along with my softness and my victim.
When all this is over, don’t look at me
and expect to see the same person.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC