"exordium" poems
Verily the exordium told anent a beauty engirdled in her fedora
soliciting those whoever descried her into her mere servile admirer
eight trenchant tinctures upon her body invigorate like a cadenza
I dare not to contradict the verity that I am beguiled afore her
whilst the snain distilled faintly enwreathed her in unctuous silk
concordantly she devote herself earnestly to the impeccable rain
that emanate her fragile poetry with prestidigitation in a whisk
forsooth she is but the vernacular sobriquet to the soul of the rain
recall me otherwhile during the rainstorm champagne did coerce
and the sunset's glass of wine exude her ingratiating persona
like a myriad of aphrodisiac summarized in a single verse
when harmony and lyrics danced in the crepuscular crescendo
all of that needed to be enunciated is it is you
do not harshly let me be thy unrequited dilettante
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
Sweet beautiful machine behind the woods,
chuckle with tears and carries a barren womb,
"Do you regret the Unlife?". I shouted.
And a soft voice whispered "No".
I have not seen the crows singing to the corn,
I believe in nothing, and nothing at all,
"Do you fear the sky?". I thought.
And a soft voice whispered "No".
Your harmony pleases the pace of the trees,
I have forseen all of this inside of a dream,
"Are you even trying to see me?". I asked.
And a soft voice whispered "No".
Spreading those legs of yours around my neck,
I kiss the cave of wonders as if were a threat,
"Is everything fine, my love?". I licked.
And a soft voice whispered "No".
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
Raw candor is necessary for this one
If any of you readers met me, you would not enjoy my company
You females may find me mad, over-amorous and devoid of any set moral standard
The men might perceive me as an arrogant, disgraceful chaser of impairment
By the end of this that shall all be proven true
I am blessed with a ****** appetite that can never seem to be appeased
And you are all cursed for living in the same world as me, for you are all on the menu
Men
And women
I'm not sorry
I want to touch you, lick you, **** you **** you
And I will
If I have not already
I will love you
I will hate you
We can go for a drink or five
Have a smoke
Cigarette or joint?
Do not fight it
You are much too cautious
It's better to just go with it
Do not fret
We can go to the city
To a a restaurant
Dine and dash
We will rob a bank
Look at art
See a concert
Write a bestseller
Map out the ****** of one so deserving
Create a new belief, a new system of faith
All in one afternoon
But I'm warning you
Do not fall in love with me
Do not want me
Do not even look at me
I'm doing all this for I am bored and in need of a single-serving "friend"
I warn you
I only desire *** excitement, experience and intoxication
Do not disappoint me
**** me well
And I will reciprocate
And every time you ****
And you ***
Whether with me or an other
Think of me because I live for and live in that feeling of complete satisfaction
There you go, a declaration of my personal itinerary
It is not decent
It is not humble
It is the truth
Unapologetic
I am Tommy Johnson, one of an entire race of flawed mortals lost in their own derangement
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
“This scorched land has a proteus yet correlate intimacy,
Could it have been I was once before thee in the aft?
Maybe when I was on the abscond of tortuous criterion,
In search of something imminent that is decisive coeval,
Scurry beams of spirit would be like a noxious gallimaufry,
Oh vault of slags bitterness where feathered creatures ****
Remote land that is before me in lieu of the love I have lost,
The quietude air whisks flower chorale refrains of melancholy,
I am a lost pioneer on an unending expedition for melioration,
Deep blue brine in the vastly distance awaits an archipelago,
To not have her in my arms would be like a blade of dread,
As the fiery sun blazes brightly with a sky of blue as am I,
I can only say at the endow of this journey I hope for her,
Scorching this barren land is nihility compared to her loss,
It is her love that keeps me live as I thrive forward,
As eventide arrives frigid cold that was aft scorched land,
As I ponder exordium with the thought of oppressed feelings,
Yearning as my love has befallen with my present anguish,
For I now am that oppressed suitor on Scorched Lands”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 11/07/2019 #172
Nov 23, 2019
Nov 23, 2019 at 3:10 PM UTC