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The Mermaid (Part One)

The evening was cool
and the sky was so clear
And ripples of waves
were all I could hear

The moon shone bright
and stars twinkled on high
Then from out of nowhere
came so seductive a sigh

I looked out to sea
to whence this sound came
And my eyes did believe
they were playing a game

For as waves lapped around
a rock out at sea
I saw a beautiful vision
who was staring at me

Naked as love
she sat all alone
On that rising edifice
of black granite stone

Her body so wondrous
that I shook with such lust
But a smile so pure
that my thoughts were unjust

Her hair was entangled
with luscious green kelp
That protected her modesty
without man-made help

It hung down over *******
so excitingly full
And covered the parts
that are made to enthral

My mind quickly taken
by this girl of my dreams
But as I looked closer
all was not as it seems

For legs this beauty
was completely bereft
And a long fishy tail
was all she had left

Then with a smile
that made my heart still
She slipped into the water
and I saw she was real

For she dived like a dolphin
under azure sea
And all that was left
were the ripples and me



The End........or is it?



The Mermaid (Part Two)

The man with the tear soaked eyes walked along the beach for the thousandth time, his hands were shaking and his lips quivering in the cold, he constantly looked out to sea, where was she, would she ever return, would she mend his broken heart. He had but caught a fleeting glimpse of this beauty as she preened herself on that ancient granite rock, but a glimpse was all it had taken; he was completely besotted by this angel from the deep.
Even now, weeks after the event he could still see every tiny detail of his wondrous vision, the sparkling brown eyes that outshone the sun, and the kelp entangled hair that seemed to be alive with light and glistened with the reflection from the moon. Her heaving ******* that had caused the man in him to want her body for his own ****** pleasures, and that oh so innocent smile that had replaced the pure animal lust within him with a more protective desire to take her in his arms and cherish her.
He had not kept her appearance a secret, he had told everyone he had met, and he had talked and talked and talked. He wanted to tell everyone about his dream girl, his mermaid from the deep, his beautiful fish tailed siren. But would they listen to him? The answer was no, a resounding no. He was laughed at, ridiculed, pointed at and made out to be the village idiot, just because he wanted to share what he had seen. But he didn’t care, he would see her again, he knew he would see her again; he had to see her again, otherwise, well otherwise he would go crazy.
Another tear ran down his face as he once again looked at the vacant rock where his angel had once sat and realised that maybe they were right, maybe he was mad, just a demented old fool, someone that had let his dreams overtake reality. His heart wrenched tear fell to the sand and along with his hopes and dreams soaked into nothingness; He turned away and looked no more, he must preserve his sanity at all costs so he walked away and returned to the boredom of his sad uneventful life.
So he was not there an hour later when a ripple formed in the water as a dream like beauty pulled herself from the sea and perched on her favourite granite rock. She looked around, but he was not there, maybe it was her imagination but she was sure she had seen love in his eyes, maybe if she waited he would return, but no, she was being foolish, she slipped off the rock once more and plunged deep into the dark forbidding sea, back to reality she told herself, back in the water where nobody could see her tears.

The End
Stephen E Yocum May 2018
I dreamed of him again last night,
of how he always made me smile.
Over eight years a family friend,
his daily antics always on display,
morning and afternoon walks and talks,
his joyful baths in his small pond while
he playfully bobbed and dove beneath
the spray of my garden hose.

This was no human being,
a handsome Mallard Duck instead.
The self proclaimed King
of our barnyard clan,
always strolling and patrolling the
grounds, waiting for us, quacking
his greetings, excitingly flapping
his flightless wings at our approach.

His loneliness petticoat showing, he
followed everywhere, seemed to live
merely to be in our company, eat corn
from our hands, living precious minutes
of needed shared congeniality.

Two morning ago he was not there,
we searched and called his name
but he had completely disappeared.

A coyote perhaps, or bird of prey
our King taken and gone away.
Our lives are diminished by his loss,
Though only a bird, he was our
dear companion, a convivial friend.

I dreamed of him again last night,
of how he always made me smile.
Today I mourn his loss.
A tribute to a noble foul, if ever there was
one. Friends come in many forms and hues,
if one cares to see and embrace them for
who and what they are.
Wileh Kama Jun 2014
By: Wileh Kama

I wish you were  
Addictive to me
Than you are
To Facebook

The dawn breakers birds sing
And you wake up
Excitingly full of Indulgence
From overnight's expectations
You log onto Facebook
Foremost thing you do
Then you log off from Facebook
All before me  

You forget me
During the day
Even when hunger strikes
Or when you are in the toilet
On the bus at work in the church
You log onto Facebook
Gratified from the overwhelmed messages  
Updates statuses notifications
Furthermore disgusted winching
Over internet outage low data storage
You log off from Facebook or don't
Always Facebook is in your little mind
That makes your world go round
But you forget me

The last thing you do  
Before you close your eyes
Regardless of tiredness
Even before you want to die
Craving like an addict
For the last hale of ****
Like a dog faithful to its master
You log onto Facebook
Check Facebook its Facebook
At times you forget to log off
And sleep all over Facebook
All after and without me

I wish you were
Addictive to me
Than you are
To Facebook

Date: 20140624
Ayeshah Jun 2014
I reminisce quite often

of your touch

and

the unabashed ****** experimentation's

we've shared.

I know my worth,

so don't you go forgetting,

I had you with your mouth agape,

your toe's curling

as

you cried out my name...

call my conceit one of a kind,

because

I know the way you stare,

the way your  eyes lustfully & licentiously devourer me,

the way you crave me

and

how you cling to the memories of us,

in bed.

Your priapic lust for me

is

equally accepted & measure,

almost to a point where

I could have ******-combusted

since

you always seem unable to stop,

but

you must know,

I have a very arcane little list and lucky for you

I've let you in...

hahaha lucky indeed & better for me.

My concupiscence  language

and

metaphors simplify & convey my lustful intent.

In simpler terms just know I want to repeat are coupling,

I'd like you to to bend me over and stretch me to my fullest.

open me widely

and

dance with in my silken  Venus’ cradle,

entangle me into

a dreamlike haze,

in which my  fantasy and reality are indistinguishable.

I know you've  harboured about me & the many ways,

all the very excitingly different ways you could defile

and desecrate my ripe tight little body,

I see more clarity and certainty of what might happen,
  
if ever

I'd allow you to spend the night with me again,

I still remember our passionate nights together,
  
oh so very well,  

I can see it,

I taste us and worst yet,

I can feel your animalistic

and

sometimes brutal ****** assault on me,

I still feel you deep within

my seductive tight little love box.

Your

a

cannibalistic-cunnalinguist master,

causing havoc within me,

as you attack hungrily

between my thighs,

sending me spinning,

sending me on a  intoxicating high.

Our last encounter,  

left me unable to breathe,

barely able to walk and yet I have no regrets,

well maybe just one,

and that is;

all good things must come to an end!

(until I heal.)

Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
         K.A.C.L.N ©
     All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
LOL,
had to do something to incite you hehehe, hope you liked it , trying new things, thanks for reading!
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
My fingers smell of you
Inner thigh bruises, black and blue

It’ll be innocent, what I’ll do
Work you into a sweat, morning dew

Feeling like goddesses, us two
Sticking to one another, organic glue

Excitingly painful but only for a few
My erotica magnifica, you haven’t a clue
almat011 Sep 2019
Brutally beastly ****
Your heart is like a burning ruby, you are a hot juicy chocolate skin tone brutally ****, beastly, mega tough exciting making *****, divinely sweet and incredibly ****, saturated with a sweet delicate, sensual shade, sexually exciting, you are synonymous with hot *** and sultry sexuality. My heart, mind and ***** burn with the fire of love and lust, looking at you, I think to myself: it’s just nowhere hotter. You are such a *** bomb that is capable of blowing up an entire universe, it says wow and wow, a mega explosion of the imagination of lust. With every second, love for you only intensifies, also your value, and my ***** feelings. You are my true attraction, which I had not previously suspected of, looking at your body and face is just a buzz for my eyes. Your beauty is the highest art of aesthetics. Your beauty as a powerful ****** for my mind, soul and heart, as if a very cool unforgettable ***, just the breath of adrenaline from love captures the spirit. You are the reason for my constant my ***** feelings and amazing state of love. Very tough very excitingly and ***** and beautiful. Aesthetic eroticism of love for you, the most tender and sweetest taste. I relish every second, spent with you every second your value increases, excitement and love increases, I relish every second. You just brutally excite me.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
I've never gotten flowers, not much to say
In love once, still can't beg to stay
I've never gotten flowers, but oh.. to dream of lilies
How the return of happiness will ever feel?
"Hold onto your baby breaths,"
They never given me any
All I ever wanted was a tulip
The same way my father use to gift my mother
Smiling while I hide behind him excitingly

Dreaming of  my once upon a dream as snowdrops grow
Sunflowers, how beautiful they could be
Joyfully restoring oxygen into my lungs
You never knew cause roses are the trend
Honestly, you never asked
Left, right you're gone
Not a rose in graved, they're all out of sight
Its alright I'll get gladiolus
Swimming in the lilies valley one day

Memory, Not a Flower girl

By:Zoulaikha
writing this was something I felt like it needs to be heard. I also played around with the meaning of each type of flower..
Lilly: purity, heavenly, happy, wealth, pride.."but oh.. to dream of lilies
How the return of happiness will ever feel?"
Baby breaths: everlasting love... ""hold on to your baby breaths" They never given me any"
Tulips represent respect, sunshine in your smile, passion..."The same way my father use to gift my mother"
Snowdrops: new beginnings, hope, rebirth and the ability to overcome challenges..."Dreaming of  my once upon a dream as snowdrops grow."
Sunflowers: long lasting happiness.."Sunflowers, how beautiful they could be"
With roses I went with how common they are but even tho they mean I love you:  "You never knew cause roses are the trend ,Honestly, you never asked, Left, right you're gone, Not a rose in graved, they're all out of sight"
Gladiolus: little sword as in strength ..."Its alright I'll get gladiolus"
Lilies valley: joy, love, sincerity, happiness and luck but also the lily of the valley contains compounds that affect the heart since it poisons...so if I win and gain my strength I may be at the end finding happiness at my last breath.."Swimming in the lilies valley one day"
marie Jun 2013
cobalt blue meets crimson red
one a pair, the other dead
unblinking eyes eye blank ones
currently living meets living once.

different emotions, strong urges
touch the body with careful smudges
blue meets red excitingly
one quiet, one laughing happily.
Brian Miller Apr 2012
Flash! Bang! Crack! Puff!
In an instant
In one moment
History is gone like the wind
Like the cries of prisoners who yell "Save us!"
But me...me, I look, smile and wonder

So I walk with my lighters
With my gasoline and my torches
Ready and willing to wipe out a "Sanctuary"
This "place s of residence," this "castle"
Or so they say....

So the fires dance around wildly, excitingly,
Like some liberated dancer on the dance floor
Screaming, shouting, "I'm free!"
....But I'm trapped.....
Trapped in my frustrations, my fears, and my pain
So I unleash it all
In one second of glory, of wonder...of freedom...
So while your home, your school, your hospital, gives its final farewell to this Earth
For once I'm flying

So count yourself lucky
Because I could've done a while lot worse...
I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known,
and, I believe,
the best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool.

With a simplicity of heart,
dispensing starlight to casual moths.

With the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down,
with its fluctuating, feverish warmth.
That voice was a deathless song.

Her face is lovely with bright things in it,
bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth –
her curious and lovely mouth.

Young and artificial.
Redolent of orchids and pleasant cheerfulness.
Gleaming like silver, safe and proud.

A “nice” girl.
A beautiful little fool,
excitingly desirable
with a ripe mystery about her.

And, yet,
turbulent emotions possess her.
She thinks everything is terrible;
she’s pretty cynical, you see.
But,
God, she’s sophisticated!
That beautiful little fool.
This is a found poem, which isa poem created out of phrases from a particular book. In this case, I used The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fizgerald.
My beautiful,
smart,
funny,
excitingly adventurous,
**** **** **** girl friend.

One who writes
and reads me poetry.
Sings songs,
laughs and watches movies with me.

You are so incredible to me in so many ways.
And you do it
from the other side of the world.
Because, Nick, you are not just some blur in the background. You are the subject of my vision. My present and my future.
Running down the riverbank
The moss is wet and slippery
The willow trees whisper in the breeze
As I dance with the wind
Smells of sweet honeydew and rotten leaves
Paint a smile on my face
The water lilies and narcissus bloom
White pedals in my wake


Ivy leaves like snakes do slither
And trap me in their grip
Tangle my flighty feet in its long fingers
And I meet the icy arms of the creek


The splash is loud and the slap is hard
But how I love to swim
It is cold and calm and I hum along
How it echoes in the deep
My feet are numb and my lip trembles
My battered clothes catch on reaching branches
tug me farther in
Like childrens hands excitingly pulling me close
Before too long all my troubles are gone
the restlessness finally settles


Blue blood like ink
pops out of my paper skin
I close my eyes and succor my speeding heart
And there I am, frozen and ******
From my seaweed hair to my dead white feet
The nymph of earth, water, and air
I relinquish this life of pain
Of empty pernicious words
Flirtations will no promises
Hamlet, Father, Laertes I am no longer in debt to thee


Ophelia my sweet, come from the waters deep
Thy flesh has grown so cold
Soft skin wrinkles into old
A bitter bark stains my tongue
Oh god what have I done?
Inkyu Kim Feb 2014
What is life?
What is death?

What is waste?
What is purpose?

What is good?
What is evil?

What is?

All different, yet all one.
Nihilistic ambiguity,
What is?

If you have thought the thoughts,
You might be like me- trapped.
What is?

Is our purpose to be successful?
To leave something behind?
To be remembered?
To be a conqueror and a Man of Free Will?
Or are we just a doll of rag in Fate's playhouse?

What is life without death?
What is good without evil?
What is pleasure without suffering?
Are they not equals?

Such is life in her horrific beauty,
Deceptively, yet excitingly... ambiguous.

What is Churchill without ******?
What is Richard without Saladin?
What is humanitarianism without dehumanization?
Are they not both equally powerful?
However, are they also not both one?

What is the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter?
One is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do not believe in,
While the other is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do believe in.
Wait...

What is justice and what is tyranny?
What is moral and what is immoral?
Well...
The true question is, to whom is it a moral law and to whom is it an immoral law?

That is when you realize, that everything is one.

Truths become lies,
Lies become truths,
Good become evil,
Evil become good,
Hate become love,
Love become hate,
Justice become unjust,
Injustice become just.

Meaningful becomes meaningless,
As a couple's carnation is destined to wither and turn to dust.

Yet, in it's beauty, both sarcastic and cruel,
The meaningless becomes meaningful.
Being trapped sets you free.

And that is when you realize,
Life is not about being told what is right or wrong.
Life is not about leading the way,
Nor is it about following a person.
It is not about following a code,
A tradition, or a set path.

What is, becomes up to you.
What you believe in,
What is just,
What is moral,
Is something only you can tell yourself.

You may learn from others.
However, nobody reads the same sentence the same way.
And even on the same roads nobody has the same journey.

There is no purpose to anything,
There is no good,
There is no free will,
There is no fate,
There is no truth,
Nor is there a lie.
Everything is meaningless...

All meaningless... until, you breathe meaning into them.

In a way, you are just a passing moment in this Universe.
A tock on a ticking clock.
A small ant in the cosmic world.
A weakling whose death day is already marked on the calender.

Yet, until that moment, and until that day comes.
Without you, the Universe has no meaning.
Without you, there are no truths, no morals, no goals, and no purpose.

For you breathe purpose into this world,
As you write your infinite story into this leather bound diary of life.
I don't find limiting myself with a title,
There are no boxes left for me to fit in,
Or burst out of....
I find it's excitingly horrifying to be,
This lost.
There's a similar difference between identity and persona,
I am what I am, am I?
What am I?
Do you think the men I have only half loved,
But stroked their meek egos of,
And the woman I have cowered at,
As they screamed my name,
Know what I am,
Is not who I am?
There is a solace to be found in being wanted;
Are you the one they fall to on a late night,
When they are alone and drunk?
What about when their beds are cold?
When they cannot see you because, they are blinded,
By their quest to find themselves more, and you,
And you,
My dear,
Oh my sweet you,
Who is no one in this world,
Are a literally stepping stone in under their feet,
As you wish to be a moon in their stars.
What they don't tell you,
About surviving trauma when your brain is developing,
Is that your world turns to opposites,
Chaos is home
Drugs are home
Hate is home
Fear, is home;
Here secreted beneath my pallid skin,
I try to find them all a home,
Knowing I'll never find mine.
If self care and therapy was literal exercise,
I could bench press all of you, and more,
And save you all;
My motivation to not be broken is stronger than my will to die,
And they'll never know that,
As they try to break me,
Over and over, and over,
And over again.
Everyone's broken.
No sorry, everyone has cracked edges,
Worn
Rusty
Mishandled a few times
Repainted
Cracked
Not broken, slightly damaged.
We, the ones filled with gilded light, and songbirds,
We know the ******* difference between depression,
And eternal internal sadness,
From not understanding love, to
Loving EVERYONE
From seeking solace in the extreme,
To running away from arms that seek to confine.
Where for art ******* thou?

We are not here for your pleasure.
But we are.
How could we be, but anything else?

I tired.
Sorry...
I tried.
Men.
Women.
Whisky.
*******.
Driving too fast.
Telling them.
Saving them.
Being everything.
Hating.
Fighting.
Drowning.
Breathing.
Exalting.
Cryi­ng.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Writing

This isn't a shopping list.
It's. Not a bucket list.
It's what we do to survive,
When you're born without love.
JDK Sep 2020
Life is so friggin' weird, I'll tell ya.
The older you get, the weirder it gets,
and it just keeps on getting weirderer.

Grossly weird.
Wrongly and disturbingly weird.
Upsettingly weird.

But then, now and again,
pleasantly weird.
Delightfully, excitingly weird.
Weirdly endearingly weird.

Then weirder still.
Off-puttingly weirder.
Over-sweetly weirdly weirder.
Understatedly, low-key weirder to the highest degree contradictory weird.

Maybe weird isn't so weird after all.
When it's the only constant in life,
then weirdness becomes the only reliably normal thing, oddly enough.
Weird way of seeing it.
Sharina Saad May 2013
When love is strawberry red

What an exciting flavor would that be?

Dip it in tantalizing chocolate

The flavor of love, excitingly sweet

Mysteriously sweet and sour and sweet

Does love really have a flavor?

If so guess what would it be?

Would it be the sensual chocolate?

Or the delicate Vanilla

When you mix the ingredients together

It’s like two personalities dancing

It takes time to mix the right ingredients

Sometimes it might not mix well

Or it may not turn out the way you want it to be

But once you got the right chemistry

It will become a delicate delight



While you watch it baking

It’s like a relationship

You let things grow and mature

Developed into something deliciously wonderful

Then as you taste your food

Heart may be pounding, body calm and relax

You close your eyes and taste every flavor

You fall in love, in love with life, food, and your lover.
Danielle Rose Sep 2013
The surface of the water was placid
Reflections of Fall spotted this canvas in commencement
So excitingly colorful and vibrating with life  yet so still,cool,and welcoming
Inviting a storm
This tiny pond was willing to fight reguardless of the score
Well aware of the baited hooks and the illusions sold to implore
Tiny fins wave in unison
Fragile yet admirable all the same
Maeve Oct 2013
His arms
His lips
His hands
Venemous to the core
They stung as they touched me
But so excitingly painful.
I knew he'd left his mark
I knew the poison would spread
And the walls I built would slowly deteriorate
Break me down as he found his next victim
But he was a drug
An addiction
Something I couldn't escape.
The way my stomach jolted
When those fingers tugged at my hips
The way my body froze
When he kissed my lips
The way my skin heated up
When his arms wrapped around as he kisses my cheek
Maybe a sudden inervention was for the best
But I know tomorrow when he does it again
I'll be as weak as I've ever been
Strychnine slows a quick heart till it is still, in a boreal forest where  
my bikini from Brazil hides my hoo-hoo like a ******* hides a pill
or my Brazilian bikini warms ****** like wet ******* feeds a thrill
because my bikini chomps more Afric **** **** than Bobby Seale
the raw confusion of the nucleotide fusion,
the great concoction of recombinant DNA,
when we cross over our own boundaries
and subsume, integrate, reformulate our
very selves, with inhalation complete of
another human being; the danger’s inherent,
absorbing a foreign body totally is the creation of a new being entire, vulnerable
despite the new totality of the resources of
two hearts acquired for mergence

and the rush of two different bloodstreams
now circulating, stronger by far, and equally
vulnerable to diseases never prior considered,
these tissues patches, interwoven skins, two
fabrics, silk and wool, a smooth itchy, that
makes us stronger with yet unknowns of weaknesses, and then we encounter what
cannot easily be digested, comprehended,
for even new cells split apart, and the terrible
terror of dividing division that is the side effect of integration, new subdivisions never
ever forever foreseen cause volcanic tremors
and trusting your other half is awful,
until the fear subsides

this is the why
I write of
only love poetry,
the study of this process
so poorly and powerfully
misunderstood
is the atom bomb
of the human psyche

in rivers dark we travel,
oars with cotton muffled,
for there are dangers on each bank,
and in the waters beneath
the salt and the fresh
excitingly & violently blending,
different weights
somethings fall to the bottom,
others rise to the top

and when the process is nearly resolved
(for never ending,
by default defined,
for end is a conflict
constant
interrupted by truces fraught,
fragrant and vulnerable)

this then
is living,
this physic of the
bio-il-logic process
called love,
and the endlessness
that it requires

the inconstancy
of the
constancy
of the
deepening well,
and the
redemption of
redefinition
of what is
well


<>

2:10pm
nyc
10/21/24
music
———
“Sometimes Whrn We Touch” Dan Hill
“Total Eclipse of the Heart” Bonnie Tyler
“By the Rivers Dark” Leonard Cohen
Elizabeth Nov 2014
i've spoken so many, many things these past days, sprouted feathers drifted gracefully between us
it was so easy
three years brought us here we smile in daydreams and realizations this is our life
calm, down to earth like clay
i'm lost for words in full places
writing is a friend to sorrow, these past days are excitingly kind
apart, i'll sit in bed tonight, pillows to my back, eyes tracing lines on the wall
for so long i've lost sleep to worry
this sleeplessness is the same yet so different, this sleeplessness is a train to somewhere new
you were the first boy i ever etched into poetry. and that fear i wrote of long ago was just that, a fear, it doesn't exist anymore. now we do
Gaffer May 2016
It wasn’t the ***
That wasn’t important
Well it was
It was him
I gave him my time
He gave me five minutes
Christ, he came quicker than the 9.05 express
Actually, the 9.05 has been cancelled due to a ****** malfunction
He said he got excited
He’s forty two
It’s a breast thing he said
What, the two of them
Well, actually it’s you being naked
Should I keep my clothes on
Could we do it in the dark he said
Yes, just ****** do it
I was excitingly waiting
Nothing
Maybe he’s a Ninja lover
I heard him chewing
What the hell are you doing
I’m coming
For christsakes, not again
No, I’m ready for you
Well get on with it
I’ll just close the door
He screamed
Something told me satisfaction was 999 away
The paramedics put it in ice
The police took down my particulars
God, how i wished they would take down my particulars
He blamed me, could you believe it
Other patients were calling him, Bob it.
I told him straight, the ****** door got more action than me
Is that all you can think about, ****** ***
I started laughing, he didn’t get it
Just like me
Honeydrops Jun 2014
Bloomy as it seems the road to perdition
Hastening, excitingly
we match on in a Merry
Thought we toll in a roll to heaven
Little do we know that we sojourn down to
Hell.
     At sights we see tormenting pleasures
A glance or twice
couldn't quench our urges
Its succulent touch mount in deep to our soul
Little do we know
That we re riding down to hell
   The merry that flows through our vein in oneness
The lap dance that stir up intriguing moments
Driving our thoughts towards the gate of Hails
Little do we know that we head to an Halt

As time passes by,distance wails
Awaken me
And alas, it dawn on me
that those that we ride
Are but no more

The pleasure got cut with aching teeth gnashing in distress
The intrigue moments fades at I stare
At the gate of shadow
Locked with doom, agony and despair.
Seven devils bound the wretch with nine cords, and dragged him from the road to heaven, in which he had professed to walk, and ****** him through the back-door into hell. Mind that back-way to hell!!
Eleni May 2020
My strawberry kiss
stains your lips so scarlet
But brace your touch
to the thorns of the blackberry bush.

Excitingly simple it seems
when the fuchsia's pollen is filling
The air with cherubs, holding
a scent that pierces the senses.

Nature grants its deuteronomy
sprouting freedom to masses of
Timid children who misunderstand
the fangs of a snake's bite.
GraciexJones Dec 2018
Sitting on the beach on the coldest of days,
Winter chills which skims across my face and hands,
Watching the waves rising up and down,
Beating against the shore,
Roaring against the wind,
The smell of open sea rises across the land,

Birds are fleeting above my head,
Glimpse of the sun is peeking through the clouds,
My partner is drawing characters in the sand,
I run my hands over the seashells and tiny rocks,
I explore a combination of sharp edges and wet stone,

A misty gloom appears along the coast,
The sound of seagull’s squarking and dogs barking echo’s in the distance,

My partner lights a cigarette and sits across me smiling,
We hear the pitter-patter of a greyhound dog walking towards us,
The greyhound greets us with a curious gesture,
We welcome the dog with open arms and stroke their furry face to say hello
The grey-hound pondering between us,
Excitingly moving around,
We hear the sound of people talking in the background,
The grey-hound wonders off to accompany their owner,

A shift of temperature occurs in the atmosphere,
I feel the cold cracking my lips,
My partner begins to roll a spliff,
I contemplate about the warmth,
I propose we hit the Carrot Café along our way,
My partner agrees as he smokes his doobie
We get up and set upon our next journey.
Skylar Jones May 2014
to awaken
so sudden and abruptly,
to the only thing that brings me comfort,
ironically brings me to my nightmares
was it me crashing into everything,
while the fall was so perfectly acknowledged,
so quaint and serene,
yet loud and bold,
excitingly
I obsess over it,
trying to jump off any mountain
just to feel the fall from grace again,
blindly,
even with broken hands I'm reaching
so eloquently matched with this heart,
was it the supple form of her skin,
or the laughs we manufactured
in the sea of sheets we slept in,
****,
I would drown if that was the only way I could set sail again,
to move heaven and earth
to go through hell and suffering
just to feel you again,
in exhaustion I breath in the cold,
hours spent with a numbing drink,
hoping I could see straight intoxicated,
because everything was blurry in a perfect state,
and in the unknown
I lose who I am,
just to find the truth,
and in the truth I find love
just as lost as me.

-S.J
Astral Aug 2015
The romance you try to find, in all the little absences that no one seems to be aware of

The lone flower among the sidewalk cracks, the simple rays of light through the leaves

The purity you have to try and look for that, is something to be treasured in a world like this

Never try to give that up for another view, this world is cruel from the skies to the streets

You hold something organic that not many people have, nor too many people appreciate

But you musn’t let that cynical claw break your wings, for you have a pure soul that can help

Even if you don’t think that you can contribute, you are innocently unaware the kindess the world needs from you

You write such beautiful stanzas from the steps you take, the small smiles you give to the sidewalk warriors across the town

From the gentle touch you give the hurt pigeon on the steps, to the small laugh you direct to the mothers child

You have such a grace about you, you hold something purely universal in the fingertip hymns you conduct on those cups of water

You must never lose that joy you have so naturally, for it is infectious to those that see you as something to inspire towards

Magnificent is your speech about the breeze in the afternoon, you talk with an open choir of unapologetic happiness

Somehow you are a living version of a sonnet, a painting that walked away from the ink, and dawned flesh and bone

There’s confusion to try and figure your presence, for you are a candle of vanilla evenings, a soothing bible psalm in the eve of dark

Don’t give up your flower crown for one of thorns, you hold a golden river in the lovely iris of your eyes, an oasis in those freckeled cheeks

Sunshine in this morning can not look as radiant as your exuberant state,

illuminating you are to the day as it washes by on your waltzing beaches

How the atlas ribs seem to map out your inner content, something of the biblical purity, but never do you judge

Only to you help and love in the maelstorm that can arise, a rare type of creature you are, rare and excitingly amazing
Dellynor Feb 2015
Stupidly sad
Fakely smiling
Strongly pretending, that i'm doing fine.

Loathing the past
Excitingly scared of the future
Patient for now, waiting for the happy moments.
Zoromir Nov 2015
remember as a child, you'd go to the beach
smothered in suncream that smelt of peach
running off before it was all rubbed in
don't care about sunburn, just means a pink chin.
scratchy grains clinging to your arms and your feet
entirely complacent, the weather is sweet
ahead is the sea, so excitingly cold
who cares about taxes or growing old.
in the sea the grains float away
my skin is free, the sand astray
the sea is so enticing and blue
oh how its favours,
to remind me of you
Christina Dec 2020
There you were on 658 North Skyline drive, visiting the place where you once called home
With those innocent, helpless girls on your restless, manic mind.
At the age of twenty-five, a hopeless law-student drop out
Sitting in the blistering hot Summer Tacoma heat in your battered beige Volkswagen windows down,
wind blowing on your ruddy face.
Wishing you had a flashy Maserati
Thousands of beads of sweat trickle down your head like a waterfall.
Frustrated and exhausted
Knowing the fate what's going to become of the pretty, carefree girls laughing, walking ahead on the street by your car, but they're completely unaware.
The reminisce of cheap beer and stale cigarettes on your breath
As you quickly glance at your velvet crowbar, that resides on your chair-less passenger side, so desperately wanting another hit.

Jittering with panic inside, that familiar feeling surges with an adrenaline rush in your body, going from zero to eighty in 0.01 seconds
You start to get in a trance with self-destruction, panicking with chaotic anger beginning to emerge again, in waves like the ocean.
The entity begins to set in
Yet something abruptly stops you.
Holding a crumbled picture of dear Elizabeth and Molly, you keep your wallet in your right blue jean back pocket.
Yet you don't give in to your double life.No. Not this time.
Letting the devastating, destructive behavior from the entity consume your entire being.
As you begin to have sudden regret ignoring the powerful, impatient fidgety urge.


Ten girls have now suddenly evaporated into thin air, caused by your harmful doing.
Police and newspaper sightings of a certain man named "Ted" have appeared out of the woodwork,
But you keep that identity hidden under lock and key.
Newsflashes pop up at the five o'clock hour, but nothing seems to phase you into utter shock.

Now sitting in an unclean, rat-infested jail cell in Colorado
The walls only seem to know the REAL you
The light fixture is almost sawed off entirely to your liking, for your excitingly filled escape, set for tonight.
Going through the small labyrinth of the ceiling of the jail,
New, fresh, clean clothes on, and annoying coveralls off
You open the front door, as a blast of the bone-chilling cold goes through your body,
Fast, snow falling on the ground, and luckily a car with its doors  unlocked
You now fade away into the blackness.

After you've completed the horrendous event in Lake City that you so desired to do on a whim
There's now no recollection of your recent event, even though you were there.
The trees with the wind are whispering and gossip your horrific acts.
Only they truly know your lawless stories


A couple of years has rolled by,
Trial after trial, day in and day out
Hoping and confident that you'll win, but each time, you've disappointingly lost.
Judge Cowart sits on his throne, tentatively listens
The buzz from the ***** and pills that your beloved Carole snuck in for you is finally beginning to wear off.
Irritation sets
As you razzle-dazzle each individual with your stealthy charm
The time has finally come that the jury decides your ultimate, timely fate


Flash forward to eight years on death row, with that heavy metal that you wear
Living in a concrete castle, in a desolate foreign land
Indeed not Buckingham Palace.
Rowdy, loud, *****, unclean, unshaven men surround you.
Something that your not used to doing.
Not the place you wish to be at the moment.
Body odor and sweat with no air conditioning in a stagnant, minuscule cell might also be Hell on Earth.
While just an old malfunctioning fan tries to keep you cool from Florida's oppressive heat.
You talk to the four walls, that listen when the detectives get fed up and bored. With your perpetual beating around the bush rhetoric.
You wasted  your life on behalf of your destructive behavior and wrong choices
Time is ticking faster and faster when you only have a few days left till death day arrives
Rose is officially gone and is now a long distant faded memory of your failed career of a deadbeat father and husband.
It's been a few years since you last saw her and Carole as they vanished from your life.
Vanished and stolen.
Like the girl's lives, you had vanished and stolen from happy families only to destroy when you willingly obeyed and fulfilled the entity's destructive wish.
Your tears become your lullaby, for your last night on Earth.

January 24th, 1989.
Your expiration date has arrived.
Rowdy, drunk onlookers are at your last hurrah
The warden swiftly comes to your death watch cell and wakes you up from the unrestful, anxiety-filled sleep you had gotten
Are you ready? He asks you.
No longer now is a handsome forty-two-year-old, but a shaven bald gangly, ailing man, with the appearance of looking like a sixty-year-old who's unrecognizable to one's eye.
"Deadman walking," the warden shouts.
Emotionless expression looks of people that you've once known in your past are now seated in small white chairs
As officers restrain you in the infamous wooden chair, of the many in-humane men who've gone, years before your time.
Adjust your electric crown
Nerves begin to quake internally like a rattlesnake
And in less than a flash, with two- thousand volts, you'll be gone from this world forever.
At approximately 7:16 am, you're pronounced dead.




Alone & Forgotten.
storm siren Oct 2016
If I had to take one lesson away from life, it would be that love conquers all. Now, I know that sounds corny, but please, hear me out. Love runs the world, whether it's platonic, romantic, selfless or selfish. Love is the motive for all things.

And most excitingly so, if you find the kind of selfless, end-all-be-all kind of romantic, best-friend-where-have-you-been-all-this-time kind of love, there's some stuff you have to know. It is almost impossible to find someone who feels the same way about you in a way that is even somewhat compatible with your way of thinking.

So when you find that type of love, when you fathom that feeling and find yourself having the burning desire to show it and act on it time and time again, drop everything. Let go of your preconceptions and inhibitions. Jump into it like you're blind to everything else. This is it. This is what everyone spends their time on Earth searching for, hoping for. And you've found it.

So you know all that guilt you hold on to, all that anxiety about everything you've ever done that is somewhat wrong? Let it go. And hold on to this love, this fresh start, this life-changing desire to be good for someone, like you've never held onto anything before in your life. Hold on as tight as you can, and never ever let it go. I promise it will still be there when you fall in.

Because I know this as a fact, when it's right, it's right. And this fantastic destiny, this beautiful serendipity, this red-string-of-fate theory, it all gets proven right with this. This is the reason it didn't work out with anyone else. This is it.

Are you holding on tight? Good. Now jump. Because if I know anything else about life, it's that if you wait until you're ready, you'll be waiting for the rest of your life.
I love you, Bluebird. Two weeks and six days! <3
Zywa Feb 2019
From working you get wounds
****** clothes in washing machines

Then you sit beside and wait
with spinning thoughts

doing nothing but caress
your skin and fantasize

to do that together with whom
and how and excitingly beautiful

the wounds would heal
and also, very gently with the nails

scratching the scabs
Collection “BloodTrunk”
Athu Feb 2019
Rest your head dreary boy.
For some reason, you were chosen to live.
This burden you must forgive.
An envy you are to those never to manifest.
Those before you have come and left, forgetten in time in their eternal rest.
So rest your head dreary boy.
When eternity finally comes, look at those stars, those winds, those hills, those people and those dents.
Then rejoice! Dreary boy, for you most excitingly did exist.
Don't Forget
Antonio Caudillo May 2017
Dreaming of coffee dates
and your hand crawling towards
mine.

Dreaming of watching sunsets next to you,
My fingers excitingly reaching out to you.

Dreaming away these bitter cold days,
When the sun shines but fails to give me
Warmth.

Here I lay dormant under layers of ice,
Dreaming of the warmth in your touch.

Patiently waiting for the promise of your soft kiss on my chapped, shivering lips.

Dreaming of writing a verse that touches  you where my hands can't reach.

— The End —