"engorging" poems
The aching she endures
in her waking
feelings of her body quaking
to sounds of his voice
she quivers
Excitement racing through her veins like lightening
An unbearable desire rushing through her so exciting
entranced by his spell, his words so enticing
with his pleasure
she welcomes his pain
feels like torture.
she yearns for more
her body aching for his taking
her fantasies
he made belief
engorging her soul
her urges
he feeds
with his selfish needs
either way they are
both left, pleased.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
a future promise
a hard on like bundled gym socks
in stuffed blue jeans
a future threat
a shriveled phallus wrinkled obsolete
she remembered fondly
being beaten drum chatter
and seized like slow roasted
fall off the bone pulled pork
****** raggedy Ann
catapulted beyond Euboean heavens
ravaging scrotums Gordian ******
with her wild fiendish mouth
drinking a river of
haloed golden showers
spit and ****
in a runaway hot house of glistening pink
buttery spires
engorging her macerated orifices
half eaten radish
chocking on hordes
of big do do *****
a ****** face; cross eyed
Babylon abalone
bashed Ashly mashed
begging for
a face full of swinging *****
like caped chandeliers
trotting faint giggles
in a constellation
of ruptured arteries
and thick sparked ****
on her knees
milk glitter faced
scared with happiness
she counted one smiling bruise at a time
her badge of calamities
black and blue silhouettes
grinning invitations like party favors
without a crease of shame
her skin rapturous
spackled patchworks
bled like torrential fountains summer tide
while every body had fizzy red ice phlebotomies
and steamed through her drooling tumble pie
lust ***** totem
house of winding labyrinths
honey pumped transfusion
flush on blush
opera of tangled limbs
red pulse wedding flowers
slick ***** palace
blood tongued orchard
caressing knotted mooned
**** spill
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
The voice I hear is ruminating in my head,
that treacherous depart was wounded instead of behead.
How I long for this pain to leave akin the December sky,
this imminent glory was only dreamed about in disguise.
How persuasive the universe was to the story,
it did not project the upcoming fury.
Of a devious bequeath that upheld the tantrum,
the sky soared with anger until its utter collapse.
When a drop of water fell from the engorging sky;
it dropped thousands of miles beneath,
until it splattered like a human who couldn’t breathe.
This anger spread like a wildfire, infecting all those longed desires.
The heart of which pumped no more blood,
Became equivalent to a plant breathing through a frozen sun.
Nature believed there were no further storms,
until the quarrel beneath was profoundly explored.
Through the bodies sensation one could not ignore,
made the heartache of this man’s soul.
Oh why are humans so weak.
Must the sun anger the kindness soul,
For I had only hoped for evermore.
Was I a victim who loved no more?
Or an open heart waiting to explore?
This journey could not be real,
however, it became nurturing to one’s appeal.
The ignorance disguised as love evidently appeared,
as the devil danced around as one had feared.
Ambiguous to the commonality of faith,
that created an ambivalence that aroused distaste.
The traitor became her experience and ego her age,
I was in love with a spiritual woman of a certain year of age.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
I sometimes I get this feeing as though I was being forced into a meat grinder.
Urged to remove my fat only to spit out chunks of blood and bone instead.
The cracking, clicking snaps of marrow that exudes from it like wastage.
The fat engorging through the tiny weeping holes.
All I can see is the repetitive nature of damage leaking from this abstraction and I feel it in my flesh.
Crawling like tiny bugs, entrapping themselves and eroding their bodies into the hair on my skin.
Uncultivated; I have fallen into the funnel hooked up to the grinder and I feel its body churn me.
It thrusts its cold metal exterior against my lean limbs; ticking.
I try to form a response when all the while this loud heavy machine is echoing against the walls, making my voice utterly meaningless.
Like ground beef I am belched out only to be covered in a plastic film that pushes all the oxygen from it.
I am stuck in this silhouette, shaped as a slab of meat.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Sometimes we live our lives out of fear.
Sometimes we are unaware of what is actually real.
Sometimes we take things for granted before they disappear.
Sometimes we need to break our glasses to see in the clear.
Look around and what do you see?
Beauty lies within the nature of every facet you perceive.
Take a moment to suddenly pause time;
becoming aware of your zen state of mind.
When you observe droplets of water falling from the engorging sky,
visualize that moment frozen in time.
Become mindful of the chemical process elegantly combined;
as you experience the moment before it passes by.
Clarity will suddenly reach its remarkable peak,
after reliving the vicarious journey of the droplets feat.
Sometimes we stop living our lives out of fear.
Sometimes in the mist we become aware of what is real.
Sometimes we cease taking things for granted after they disappear.
Sometimes we need to fix our glasses to continue seeing clear.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
Press me into the mossed tree
flanked in auric diaspora
lifting billowing dress with one hand
pressing it with mine into the drape of fabric
framed by tree bark divets
breath incumbent
drifting in mellowed heaves
heavy against my frame
pulse cadence
requisite engorging
blood thinned
eyes dilated
spine *****
pinning me
expectancy
pelvic tilt
sacral arch
calf raking thigh
I climb you
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
You paused to look at me as if you were browsing a book shelf
and your fingers brushed ever so slightly across my skin
hesitating, lingering, at my spine.
Then you chose me
you laid me down and opened me up
it wasn’t easy because not many have read me before.
Your eyes looked me up and down, side to side
taking it all in,
engorging yourself.
You licked your fingers before you turned my pages
for a steadier and more meaningful grasp.
You said paper cuts were pretty
and that they were safe with you.
But then,
you read something you didn’t like
slammed the book shut
and shoved it back on the shelf.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
On the banks
of the
Delaware
where
memories
of Valley
Forge's
dire winter
encampments
still linger
where sons
and daughters
of liberty
shook off
a mid-winter
rigor mortis
risking the
slow death
of complacency
to seize
the prized
celestial
article of
freedom
America's
Labor
Movement
amassed
in the
streets of
Trenton
a vigilant
battalion of
General
Washington's
invading
brigands
speaking
in tongues
of radical
insistence
armed with
the might
of truth
demanding
respect and
equitable
treatment
from the
lordships
of state
doing the
bidding of
527 llc's
Unionists
stand
firmly
on the
shoulders,
walking
in the
tracks
rowing
the boats
of militant
forebears
pledging to
fight on
in a battle
that never ends
to
liberate
the
******
river
of justice
hijacked
by the
privilege
of plenty
diverted
into
culverts
of greed
a
gluttonous
few
siphoning
off
the spoils
of liberty
engorging
themselves
leaving
workers
wanting
democracies
require
the cup
of liberty
to be
shared by
all
The Spirit
of
General
Washington
has
mustered
new
legions
to turn
back the
entitlistas
the
pelting
rain of
lies, the
flinging
arrows of
ridicule
will not
deter
the workers
trooping
for
justice
the
fight
to roll
back
the ugly
tide of
greed
coursing
through
the veins
of America
despoiling
the blood
of our
democracy
is on
the
explosive
dynamite
of struggle
will blast
the dam
of inequity
to bits
unleashing
the river
of justice
to roll
again
Music Selection:
Pete Seeger:
Solidarity Forever
Trenton
2/25/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
“How can I get you to go down on me,”
he asked, without preamble.
His voice, nervous,
laced with strength
hums through her form,
summoning
a tatting of ***
She moves her entire form
Across the room
pushing solar plexus
With index finger
The wingback chair collecting
His form – assuaging her intent.
Retreating nine steps
To gather
Her acumen in dripping her clothes off
Adroit pivot
portent gaze
locked
exteroception - engaged
His exhale
executed succinctly in shallow lung
puckered alveoli - clenched
resonates as her own.
Pearls scooped catatonic
atop lingering breast ascension - alone
Remain –
Summoning brine.
She tastes his pulse
Derma puckering sweat globules
Redolent aeriform vapor corpuscles
declaring his need.
Fingers supporting her upper weight
she glides - crawling
pressing half inch spurs into the carpet
Lackadaisical dactyl dance
Seizes
muscle calf to thigh
Invoking listless leg drape
Pausing
Warm breath – rendered
Upon knee cap parallel
Framing shoulders
Engorging - in aching silence
Pulse thick, wrought in shaft
Kneeling
Primed
Proud
She flicks the button
From slit fabric recess
Cupping palms under thigh,
She renders garment to puddle
half-in – half-out
whole
chthonic shaft to palette
Sliding exhale
to mound
lax jaw
focus
Iris entreats -
narrowed corneal withdrawal
Oblong lip array surrounds
Supping the creamy, coppery,
Smoky, saline inoculation.
Latent dribble invokes tongue
Furl about lip cusp
Absorbing globule
Into slaked smile.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
“There was something about that house..” She said,
drifting into moments non-existent.
“That old house, with low, low ceilings.
..The german furniture..”
In the realm of this woman’s memories,
the sky was tinted crimson for the first time.
Rings of smoke embodied the souls of evil men.
Men who knew nothing of death, of the intricate concept of being.
The light engorging in his pupils,
an old man thinks:
“This year will be carved into the marble walls of history.”
The man’s statement echoed in the trees, in the strings of existence.
The woman, now part of the crimson sky that adorned her skin,
remembers the suffering in the way a man remembers a deceased lover’s smile.
Children, creatures and materials burned without color in her eyes.
Their voices muted, the crackling sounds replaced by Mozart,
“The Day of Madness”.
It was the least she could do to be safe in a shattering world;
to dream without the dangerous colors,
to fill a sudden void with familiar sounds,
with fragments of anything she considered to be home.
“I never went back.”
She returns from the pool of memories, dripping in truth and lies.
Her frown decorating her mouth.
“But I know
after the chaos,
the house was just a pile of ash.
A pile of ash and misery.”
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 8:58 PM UTC
O deeper sea
That waves restless between us
Engorging and disgorging
The changeling creations
Steep rills and ridges
Making not a dent above
So stays my heart hidden
Hidden in its element
So stays our viscous love
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 8:44 PM UTC
The night is a creeper bent laden with brooding meditations and the mists of time:
Tonight, the moon is a distant jasmine bud; nascent fragrance waiting to pour into the world.
I've seen your work, magicienne, how you roll the stars out from your hat.
A wand wave, and the celestial chorus of chants and hymns pours out from the skies.
I've walked with you, on the old beaten steppe, pole star,
I've seen ships dock at ancient inlets of water
engorging in parched lands - they were reed boats before;
they were catamarans later, rafts and sailboats;
This is how we rose from the mollusc, seeking you in the stars;
When thunder strikes the lonely peak and rains wash our plains,
I've seen your footsteps, half-erased by the swelling riverbanks.
I was in your womb, and never afraid of the primordial waters. Yours, an umbilical love.
The clouds part for your evening sojourn through the western sky,
where the larks go forth spreading cheer.
I am the wood, the last refuge of all mysteries.
I am the clearing where a solitary home hangs in time.
I house all the antiquities.
I am the subtle space that hosts bubble worlds.
I am Hyperions.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
i awake from dreams about not eating certain things
and eating certain other things ....i wake
i dream sub-marine
submariner flossed at sea
dreaming
i lost the race
astronaut untraceable
spaced
pacing out a heartbeat
obscene dreams
by the plunderful
engorging
plentiful
digging like a thirst
carving out a craving
digging like a dog
ever unquenchable
Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 9:29 PM UTC
“Swallowing Pearls and Lace”
“How can I get you to go down on me,”
he asked, without preamble.
His voice, nervous,
laced with strength
hums through her form,
summoning
a tatting of ***
I moved my entire form
Across the room
Pushing his solar plexus
With index finger
The wingback chair collecting
His form – assuaging my intent.
Retreating nine steps
To gather
my acumen in dripping my clothes off
Adroit pivot
portent gaze
locked
exteroception - engaged
His exhale
executed succinctly in shallow lung
puckered alveoli –
Clenched -
resonates as my own.
Pearls scooped catatonic
atop lingering breast ascension - alone
Remain –
Summoning brine.
I taste his pulse
Derma puckering sweat
Redolent vapor
Knotting between each pore – skin taut
declaring his need.
Fingers supporting my upper weight
I glide - crawling
pressing half inch spurs into the carpet
Lackadaisical dactyl dance
Seizes
muscle calf to thigh
Invoking listless leg drape
Pausing
Warm breath – rendered
Upon knee cap parallel
Framing shoulders
Engorging - in aching silence
Pulse thick, wrought in shaft
Kneeling
Primed
Proud
I flick the button
From slit fabric recess
Cupping palms under thigh,
rendering garment to puddle
half-in – half-out
whole
chthonic shaft to palette
Sliding exhale
to mound
lax jaw
focus
His iris entreats -
narrowed corneal withdrawal
Oblong lip array surrounds
Supping the creamy, coppery,
Smoky, saline
Latent dribble invokes my tongue
Furl about lip cusp
Absorbing globule
Into slaked smile.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
Finger tips, lightly drawn
Across bare skin
In places
Usually hidden
Goose bumps raised
Along with expectations
Stimulations and possible
Permutations
Blood boils
And expands
Filling and raising
Engorging
Electrical impulses
Spark along neurons
As temperatures
Increase
Lubricants and friction
Fight a battle
As other fluids
Are exchanged
Ecstasy reached
In full release
As squeezing and kissing
Reach heights
The sounds and smells
Of fulfillment
Fill the room
Spent and weak
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
It starts
In the pit of my stomach
Roiling raging roaring
Noxious
Overtaking thought-stragglers
Forgotten words
And half-remembered smiles
That stumbled too slowly
Down the road to Rational
And It swallowed them whole
Before slithering forward
Searching for prey
It feeds
In the depths of my conscious
Eclipsing encircling engorging
Bittersweet
Splish-splash-splattering
Viscous globules of poison
And turning the knobs beneath
My television-eyes
Until everything around her
Is of the deepest green
It beats
A pulse beneath every word I speak
Replaying recreating reminding
Me
Of every word and move
She makes
Her hands on his shoulder
Her voice in his ear
It paints
Her
In shades of
Emerald-forest-field
Until her skin
Matches It
And to me
She is the color of the
Lime-green curtains
In our window and
I cannot see her
Through the verdant haze
Or speak because
My voice gives me away
Every time
As
It consumes
My thoughts
Instigating infuriating
Little red ant
Crawls over my heart
Hiding from
Rationality
In a cloud of olive-dust
Little blood-spark
Sticking stabbing stinging
My bitten tongue
Longs to be set free
From Rational
Longs to be controlled
By It
Longs to ask her
Why exactly she’s
Playing performing pretending
Not to know
When she should
That he’s
Not hers...
He’s mine.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
Promises are like candies,
Beautifully wrapped in hope,
Colourful yet deceiving,
I was high on your candies.
As I wait and wait and
Wait,
Your candies turn out grey,
Colourless and bitter,
Your promises turned into
a delayed devotion
But I waited,
Engorging on your sweetness,
Until they choke me hopeless.
Feb 9, 2023
Feb 9, 2023 at 2:51 AM UTC
There is a monster who eats time
and he always knows when I’m running out
the door
of milk
of time
and he often seems harmless, mewling like a kitten in
a sunbath on tile
but then
his teeth gnash like a bear trap and
he growls like a starving grizzly and
he bolts like a tabby
lightning fast in a quest for the red dot, and
as I claw at my time with
jagged
chipped fingernails
begging it to stay
the monster eats my time
engorging himself on the
ever-hastening electronic cucking of the
clock
consuming my days like a teenage boy eating a
pizza.
I have a monster
and I hope he chokes on sand.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
Depravity Acts Like Gravity
Bringing you down
to Chaos and Degradation
And Degenerating Entropy
Trapped in a Path of Iniquity
Engorging an Extremity
To part the Lips of Life and Love
Enshrouding all that would shove
Pursuant to the path to Ecstasy
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
Every now and then, helium
fills up and expands the entirety of the bottomless soul,
a beat drums ferociously deep in the heart
like a du-wop du-wop du-wop,
engorging the fruity pulpy flesh with a
bu-dup bu-dup bu-dup,
flushing the skin a satanic roar
(always mechanical in it's clockwork nature),
and juices flow outwards unable to contain
an inedible inky fickle black
an explosion, compulsion, revulsion,
as it
spills consumes conquers
this too often naive heart.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
tingling spraying head
hitting, engorging zones
nothing like morning showers
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 9:43 AM UTC
I drank from you like wine
Engorging myself with the sins of another
But the thing about alcohol is the more you drink the thirstier you feel
I became so dehydrated i was bedridden with sadness
I wished this melancholy would come in waves
So i could find the water my body needed
But i only felt satisfied empty
Which was okay because you took more of me than i anticipated
So I'm left feeling antiquated
And i think i make a better ghost than human being
But today i woke up and decided that your face and name would no longer make me sad
But i never said it'd make me feel whole either
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
Who carries enough weight already
Shoulders taught, bowing backs under
The extent that is already carried
Strength born from what was torn asunder
That the burden we all place
From misguided necessity
Would hardly disrupt their pace
Sheltered from all uncertainty
A true hero, to save us from ourselves
To walk their fragile line, keeping us afloat
Lest we drown somehow, in our own murk
Shifting, grounding
Shouting out our names
From somewhere behind us
Furthering our doubt
While always reassuring
Keeping us in place
Granting us our freedom
To ignore what we came from
Picking up our broken remnants
Engorging always
To feed a toxic ego
Reaching out ahead
Affixing our alluring
Goal, so we would miss
How it's come to be
What we would achieve
If given half a chance
I guess we'd be indignant
Should we shoulder burdens
Similar in scope
To struggle with the truth
Internalize the world
How it is, not how we'd like it to be
Or how it's been perceived for us
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 5:45 AM UTC
Pale skin scattered with black and blue
Deathly pallor engorging hues
Sorry eyes sobbing their woes
Pleading for help but hoping no one knows
Little people still unformed
Perfect shadows now forlorn
Twitching lips quivering in fear
Dry flesh flushed with tears
That had only recently disappeared
Who will hold his hand
Who will take a chance
Who will wait and understand
Why the innocent can’t dance
Fading as all things discarded, ill-used
Garbage, soft human refuse
The child unsheltered scarred, scared and abused
Who will save the children and doing so save themselves
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
your hands are calloused from all the nothing you've done today
and you are tired of looking when there is nothing left.
screaming these things at me doesn't accomplish much,
but we are a family, so i let these things vibrate through my spine
and i let them loose into the air.
'you don't have to take everything so personally.'
you're right, i don't.
i obviously choose to have my heart spew at the seams
from all the swelling, pride and sadness
engorging me and i'm always ready to break.
i do it because i love you.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC