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V Oct 2018
we explored one another,
similar to that of how the seven sins
would explore their vices,
corrupting their virtues.

but that's what made the garden blossom,
grow with intense passion that radiated
with a melancholy glimmer, with a dipped
and ragged vine of sweat and sheen
arousal and desire.

  craving, begging, mewling, whining;

gluttony, craving for the excess
sloth, craving for moments of rest,
envy, craving for a bearing of arousal,
****, craving for a touch, a sinful taste;
greed, craving the moans and swatches,
wrath, craving for sullen destruction,
pride, craving for the fall of a bereaved apology.


    our garden;
a place of virtues, a place of our vices.
you showed me the deepest things,
darkest epithets of what was to be explored,
blossoming a crimson rose of pure desire
in the pit of my abdomen, vines of thorns
wrapped firmly around my hips
and the soft ashen flesh of my wrists
soon to be accompanied around
the thin circumference of my ankles.
the shark divots soon finding their
way around the swells of my breast,
and the tremble of my inner thighs;
body arching, lips quivering,
ecstacy of your words,
your seed planted garden that
became a part of me.


I found the cardinal sins in
the dropping countenance
of your words, of your demands, and of your wishes,
and i bathed in it,
soaked myself up in the lavender of
your scent, the scratchiness of your thorns.

our garden was the place to cast our sins,
delve into them, and it ruined me,
but oh how I solely craved it.

our encounters, our actions, our experiences
putting even the seven deadly sins to same,
forcing them to turn when catching a glimpse
of us. The swells of their cheeks blossoming
with that of a rose tinted hue.
Big Virge Feb 2015
Do you ever ... " Find " ... ?
that words ... sometimes ...
keep on running ...
through your mind ...

Sometimes ...
My Rhymes and Words
are ... STUNNING ... !!!!!

These days ... I find ...
My ... " Word Designs " ...
" Refine " ... and dine ...
just like ... " Fine Wine " ... !!!

So ....
Here's ... A few ...
to give you ... clues ...
as to ... some of the ways ...
My wordplay ... moves ...

Wordplay just ... RIDICULOUS ... !!!
Volume ... Straight Up ... INFINITE ... !!!

Inception is ... SYNONYMOUS ...
with Big Virge ... " The " ... EPONYMOUS ... !!!

Conception ... NOT ... INGLORIOUS ... !!!
******* ... " Nope " ... ERRONEOUS ... !!!

My use of verse is ... GLORIOUS ... !!!
In fact it's ... MERITORIOUS ... !!!

because it's ... "TIGHT" ...
NOT ... Porous ...

Chorus ... NO ... !!!
because it flows
and has ... NO PLACE ...
on ... " Talent Shows " ... !!!

TALENT ... Whoooooaaaaa ....

You'd ... BETTER KNOW ... !!!

What I construct ...
may ... one day ... BLOW ... !!!

A hole in all these ...
shows for ... " **'s " ...  

" Prostitution " ... NO ... !!!
NOT ... how I roll ... !!! ...

Talking of those ...
NO TIME ... for Coc' ...
or YES ... ******* ...
because my nose ...
Does Not ... house notes ...
where air should flow ... !!!

Flows ... I got those ... !!!
Quotes that ... " Rock Boats " ... !!!

Races Places ...
So Many Faces ...
Sometimes my mind ...
DEFINES ... INVASIVE ... !!!!!!

Wait ................................... ..........

I'm just ... " Playing " ... !!!
and ..... Relaying .....
words of verse ...
from the thought of ...

... BIG VIRGE ... !!!

My head ... IT HURTS ... !!!
just like ... MY ARM ... !!!
because I write ...
like those who ... fight ...
and wear the garms' ...
of those who choose to ...
YES ... Bear arms ... !!! ...

Violent ... Naaaaahhhh .... !!!!!

Big Virge is ... calm ..........................

I'd rather ... " Charm " ...
But ... Please Be Smart ...
before my words ...
get in ... Your Claaat' ... !!!!!
or your ... " Rasshole " ... !!!!!

Am I Bajan ... NO ... !!!
But ... Here's the quote ...

I'm English born ...
So ... know of ... Their Scorn ... !!!

But am now ... REBORN ... !!!
with ... " Caribbean Views " ...
just down the road ...
from my ... New Bedroom ...
On ... Bajan' Shores ...
NOT COLD ... but ... " Warm " ... !!!

I'm ... HAPPIER NOW ... !!!!!
that ... I have found ...
A place for myself ...
on my ... " Parents' Ground " ... !!!

Africa ... " Next " ... ???
Well ... More or Less ...

So much of this world ...
I haven't seen yet ... !!!!!!!!!

Girls ... that's where  ...
This poem ... ends ...

SO MANY ... " Look Fine " ...
but I just ... Can't Find ...
one who's down ...
to ... " FOOL AROUND " ...

With ... The Man ...
..... BIG VIRGE ....

The ... " Connoisseur " ...
of .... Spoken Words .... !!!

I guess that's why ...
I write ... These Rhymes ...
and ... Put in Verse ...

Words that ... " Traverse " ......

That I now find ...

" Run Through My Mind " .....
Literally, words just started, running through my mind, and these ended up being what came of them .....
ManxPoetryGuy Dec 2018
The words I write mean everything to me, something to other people, and nothing to others.

But it isn’t what people hear from my words that matter, or how people see me because of them, but what those words mean to me.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2018
I am not the master of my writing

-
my writing masters me,
seizing me when the seizure is a sure thing,
it dictates to its enslaved scribe
what it desires this utensil to reveal and expel -
the contraries
who having battled to a ****** draw leaves the battlefield trembling with indecent indecision; the optimal conditions for its macrobiotic invasion of my brain stem;

the she-muse offers me two choices:
she wants a poem writ forthwith
on the lyrical expression
of depression and refusal is
non optional

so I fantasize escape and that becomes
her property as well;
evidence against me to be used at my trials,
the one where there is no statue of liberty
from the limitations of prior bad acts;

I offer the she-muse two choices:

give me a cabin with WiFi
and self-enforcement of solitary confinement and
tie me up with the rope remainders of broken bonds,

bonds that tied me up worse
when they were broken
and the peaceful withering
that won’t disrupt disturb nobody
from a distance

my other choice is to bury me
forthwith next to my parents
and shutter my constant tearing eyes which are drop-resistant

muse says that’s no choice
I own your voice stilled or not,
will bill your soul’s account for
denial of poetic services

weep; i don’t want the noises that curse this troubled
bodyship don’t want recollections good or bad

the muse-***** cackles with insanity of delight
for she accepts this writ as partial payment
on her commission, whispers I love your
lyrical expressions of depression
that ****** recognition algorithms
alert me that seizing time is nigh

there is no on/off switch for one like you:
father son and holy ghost
Haze Jan 2018
I am help captive in the arms of my captor

Only looking at the future it gave, no other

Walking up the path filled with grave-given, fallen flowers

I rise above the clouds having hope as my only power

This is she to me, *España y Filipinas
This was my own attempt in interpreting the message of a painting made by one of my countries best painters, Juan Luna. It was actually in the test given for arts class where they asked us to write a one-verse poem about how we interpret Espana y Pilipinas and this was my answer to that portion of the test. I must say, a lot of culture and symbolism in one painting. I realize how great the other art forms are besides poetry.
Tommy Randell Jun 2017
The world has corners where Ideas meet to exchange gossip -
I speak quietly in my life about my thoughts, their meaning.
It is more than eloquent to believe mere Ideas have a life unspoken.

Like seeing the clouds moving as one and time passing as they go,
Seeing the wave of a breeze running across a wheat field, like some hand
Brushing the ripe grain and saying 'There, there – It will be time soon.'

The life imagined out of what the world presents to us, its substance,
This life becomes us as Thinkers, Poets, Artists and Human Beings -
The shapes we make of these thoughts are very much the best of us.

In my daily turns I speak quietly about such things to my friends,
Letting the zoo of my imaginarium mix freely and wander wide.
On the whole my words mean no harm and grow from the good of it.

I speak quietly of some things only as Poetry, however -
That I like the small persuasions. That the wind can move our thoughts.
That our fates are the paths we walk. That time is a present to be shared.

That our hopes are the slipperiest of dreams, sent to keep us awake.
That Joy in the world can heal it, though happiness always breaks.
That mountains are a silent scream, never to reach the stars.

That not speaking of some things at all is often the most arduous.
That sometimes ideas have a ferocity best to be kept unheard -
And in those Poems, that is when I want you to listen your very hardest.

Tommy Randell 06th June 2017
This poem isn't at all about Politics. In fact it is only about Poetry
Stormy Grey Dec 2014
There comes a time
In everyday,
Where sense of reality
Withers away,

In hours or seconds-
Days or years,
Your soul will awaken,
Along with your tears.

Red as the roses
And weeping like willows,
The windows start crying
While your lungs start to billow.

But when this time comes,
And you cant get away,
Please stick around
For at least one more day.

I know things are hard,
But they will be okay,
Please let down your guard,
We will make it someday.

Stormy
Grumbling engine underground
Again
Rotates and repeats.
The echo
The steamy yawn
Mellow fiend unseen
Creeps
Bearing teeth in metallic joints.

A fat snake's yawn
Blows and bellows quietly.
Uncoloured ornament at ten feet
Floats through that crawling wind
Full from everything it could eat.

***** sand in the far east
Rustic in the sense of dripping spit.
The blue walls painted over the white plain
Are scratched
White walls slain.

Drilling ripple
In the black pool
Ink
Coloured the lonely riddle.
A cold under the sun
Blinds our noses
Disguising away our senses.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Madison Nov 2018
Music devours me.
Every note
Every verse,
Chips away at my existence
Until I’m lost in its rythme
I want to run, I want to hide
From all the pain he caused inside
I want to scream, I want to cry
Why can't I just tell him goodbye

I want to move on; I can't let go
I love him more than he'll ever know
Memories come, when I'm alone
Thinking about all the things that I've been told
I want to start over, I want to be free
But this pain and memories just won't leave me

"If I am stressing you out, then you should just forget about me,"
How could you think it's so easy?
He hurt me bad, the pain is deep;
From all the promises he couldn't keep
All the things I heard him say,
Are in my head and just won't fade

How can I forget him, leave him behind?
Erase the memories from my mind?
He doesn't love me, and he never will
He will never care about how I feel
Originally written and inspired on 24/8/17 by Chloe Keane Sapphire Lim
Edited on 22/11/17
©2017-2018 Poems_expressions_words_truth. All Rights Reserved.

Instagram: Poems_expressions_words_truth & clej__chl.oeelim
Jme Love Jul 2018
Only i am to blame.I carry with me this heavy burden of self pity and shame.
I took time for granted always thinking I had enough.Wasting it,losing it,always in a rush.
Never did i realize what was passing me by.All those memories that should have been disappeared in the blink of an eye.
The time I wasted is no longer around.The time i lost can longer be found.
I sit and I dwell.My thoughts are proof im living in my own personal ****.
Only I am to blame.I wasnt there and everything changed.
I missed all those special moments in time.Now im sure im the furthest thing from your mind.
It breaks my heart.Please have no doubt it tears me up inside and out.
Only I am to blame.Im the one that left and nothing was ever the same.
I hope you know you are always on my mind.If time would allow I would surely press rewind.
Time was no friend to me you see.I took it for granted now its left me empty.
There is one thing tho that can not be taken by time.Its the bond between your heart and mine.
Please remember no matter how much time we lose,You will forever be a part of my heart and i will always love you.
mothers day 2018.a letter to my 3 children
Speak Slowly Sep 2018
I write to you, to you my dear. I write now but I'll read to you soon, I hope you'll hear me then. I need to get it off my chest, words I want to express. I'll tell you three things, to express your worth to me. I hope you keep this close, to free up doubt in anytime of your life. I hope you think of me, when you read these three poems.

To you my dear, I fear that anyone who comes to know you, will discover you're true beauty. Not just looks, not just pretty eyes but a beautiful soul behind that lovely personality. I love how you care so deeply about me, seemingly so when you are troubled yourself.

To you my dear, I adore how kind you are. You see, I find myself smiling every time you do any small good thing around me. I appreciate your deepest qualities and your kindred spirit. Even when I see your inability, I can't help but adore and love you.

To you my love, the enchantment of being with you, are moments I enjoy most. Latent with so much love and chemistry, I cant wait to see where our path goes. I'm so fond of the idea of 'us', I wonder where this river flow will go.

To you
From me SS
-SS
Day 25
Bella Dec 2018
true expression,
a look in the mind of a poet.
writing is all about bending:
words and punctuation and rules to your will
to make your work sound the way you want.

Because in writing there is what is written,
and there are the directions,
which are the punctuation.

And if the writer chooses
for them
to contradict
it makes
everything oh,
so beautiful.
This was part of a comment to a poem "ME" by another author "Lidya" that I wrote a long time ago
And I turned it into a poem
Gabriel burnS May 2018
I hadn’t spoken for so long
a tiny spider had moved in
at the corner of my mouth
eating my words

my tongue laying limp like a
slain dragon at the bottom of the cave
like a king who passed away right there
on his throne having given the last order

my arms almost as still as uncontested borders
only palms carry out maneuvers
and fingers patrol the manifestation of expressions
commanded by thought fibers
like puppet soldiers

and the lines in the sand are words
born of themselves
telltale heartstrings stalking now the realm
just outside the eye orbit
Eric Pon Mar 29
As the growing world unraveled
And I began the dismal ascension of maturity
I stumbled out the  fog of childhood
And there you were.
The unpredictable scope of your gift
Multiplies with my misery and condemns the compassionate-
And is only ever outshone by;
How you choose to use it.

Advice to head and educate
A Battlecry turned a Mandate.
Faith; in things to happen yet
Strength in knowledge- hope in regret;
Stories expressing casually:
Evils impartiality. and
tales of golden fantasies
How no drugs ever stronger than me.
so these few things  have given me
Something I can keep.
from start until the seventh day
  in dreamless dead bed sleep.
how you cushion the destruction-
the entrancement of seduction
to paint to play to grow to teach
Expression extending as I reach.


"tare me down?
between church, and under hikau,
They can't take
it is, raveled in
you-
deep blues;
out of my thoughts.
Between Church and
under every scar there's
under haiku, it is,
a battle I've lost.
raveled in in deep blues
there's a battle that I've lost.
deep blue
It is,
Take
raveled in
you-
Deep blues,
Between-
Out of,
Haiku."
A letter to the greatest artist I've ever heard or seen

found poety in lyrics from Metric's All Yours and Emily Haines's Shrine to Fast Goodbyes.
Marla Toledez Nov 2017
Feeling
Is difficult to express
In words.
Yet I know
What the horn player
Means
When he plays his chords.
Pain can't be made
Plain to those
Who don't feel it,
Yet I know why
The pianist sobs with
Eyes that are dry,
His fingers moaning
A cry of mourning,
Filled with dread.
Until his fingers
Are the ones that
Sob instead.
Eleven Dec 2018
This is the end, the end is near
The time has come so loud and clear
I saw this girl shedding her tears
In silent of words we cannot hear
Like a fading sunset or her smile
Only she will last for a while
I dare not to touch nor to pick
The beautiful flower gloom and sick
So I sit in deathly silence, and admire the view
Something so timeless as I look at you
I'm glad I witnessed something so beautiful
But the glimps of heaven how pitiful
She stand still then wave a goodbye
The beatiful rope will end the cry.

Read it backwards.
Inspired by The Universe.
Alan S Bailey Dec 2018
You may never love me
I wonder what to do,
I'll be at the end of the tunnel waiting
But I might never be with you.

This is a sad day for me,
It's already time to go to bed,
I can't think of a worse ****
Than trying to get you out of my head.

N+A for never...
To Nikki, wherever you may be
When we met I was pretty ****** up
I was a boy and all I liked was playing with my toys
I was hurt
I could not express it i had pride

When I met you i was unaware
But i become aware of you
How you move, even when you shy couldn't tell
'"Mm look at this girl", I said in my mind
Look at how she walks with confidence
There was really something special about you
Something that made me at ease and want to spend more time with you

I remember the night I spent liking all your pictures on Instagram
Must have been a bit strange to you but
I was just amazed glued to my phone seeing a beautiful girl in all those images
Remember the night it was just you and i
sitting late at night it felt like it was us against the world
You plus I, I promise the thought always follows with a smile
It is how you make me feel
It is just amazing how I just find myself
In a space I have never been before
A space where it is only you who exists  
stop hurting you
because it only hurt myself
Expressing without fear
Letting you in
Getting lost Behind those beautiful marble eyes
And get embraced by your sweet pure love
That type of love
The one which  heals all wounds
You know the First heart breaks
And even feeling the void of a space left when the boy lost his mom
Looking at you a perfect girl, beautiful capable woman
Who has endured it all but still stands tall
When we met i was pretty ****** up
There was really something special about you
Looking at you a perfect girl, beautiful capable woman
Maziar Ghaderi Feb 2018
I got alotta things I want to say
so when you got nothing better
than to hear me mumble
the usual suspects,
the whole ensemble
I’ll be the one in leather
the one that was just across the hallway
at that office on main street
you used to temp at, ‘member?
in summer ’06
or was it fall of ’09?
it doesn’t matter
the whole cast is here, yup
each is reborn when i tell a tale of theirs
but only if you insist
that I got alotta things to say
and that i want to.
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2018
If anyone asks,
"What is your favorite color?"

Just reply,
"The Color of you."
Alright

With different expressions
You keep on changing
I wonder how you do it
Sometimes I don’t know
What color is it
Sometimes the hue
Keeps on surprising
Close to magic it seems

Often,
Sudden change in contrast
From bright moonlight to eclipse
From dark shade to snow white
Puzzles me
Should I trust my eyes?
The two sides of life

The color of you
Makes me concern
What to expect, the next

Hopefully,
The best color
Yet to see
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Color of Happiness Vs. Shades of Sadness
Hannah Christina Jun 2018
I don't mean to only express myself
Let's turn our gaze outward to something else
Because really, we're nothing
reflections and vapors
our lives seem so long to us then as time tapers
down to the end
it's
getting faster again
and it's time that, my friend
in this time that you spend
looking out for yourself realize your wealth and your life and your thoughts they are
just
so
small.
I'm nothing at all but a freckle of dust
but looking around there are millions of us
there's a picture out there taking shape so we must
have courage and dare to ***** off all our **** for
our own affirmation
our self-presentation
must find a foundation in something much bigger than us.
As you cry to be heard pause and listen to hear
for when long you have listened the Light will draw near
and you'll find all the words that you cannot deserve
so please gather the nerve discontent to preserve
And climb outside and point out to the stars over hills
and from you the joy and the knowledge will spill
For expression is best when it's not just for you
My confession is this, let it always be true.
I think this one is best read as spoken word/ slam.  If there are parts where the rhythm feels off let me know!
Snowflakes scraped underneath fingernail tips
When the charcoal was pressed harder.
As often as the cheetah runs with the crocodiles by the nile
They do not look for each other.

As often as the bees sing
Only once could they muster poison and sting
With a clockwork, shelter and carpentry of honey.
The fruitness of a living body.

The sound that gets lost in the woods
Gets lost and carried
Flying through the whispers between the branches and twigs.
All the creatures are all but lost
Yet the striking fur
Shocks
Hunters into firing hot shells across
and the falcon fell.

A shouting cull
The silence that meant that wildly blooms have been collected.
A bouquet was calling the passing hours
Wrapped in the scraped white spirit of the wooden towers.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
HeWhoExplores Dec 2018
Here you are awaiting my inevitable return from work

With your dough eyed expression, purring static moans

Eager, for another pouch of 'Darcey's Fish Mix'

Unwillingly able to backoff, so I can find some clearance

In order to serve you, my pets; my overbearing bundle of fur

Whom I truly love, forever and always.
cats
K Wolff Aug 2018
You
When I'm parted of your presence,
I merely exist;
To say I'm living would be a lie,
For it is you I greatly miss.

Days without you pass like years,
Every hour drags by;
As the end of the week nears,
I wonder if I'll see your smile.

Because no words that I possess,
Can quite tell you how I feel;
No words adequately express,
The love for you which I conceal.
I'm really bad at expressing myself with people i love. Somehow this is easier.
English Jam Apr 2018
This desolate road seems forever long
And my worn feet will carry me through the ruin
All alone, but if you had heard my song
You might just understand why I’m doing
Maybe I’m the strongest person of us all
Maybe you’re used to me being alone
But that doesn’t mean that when I take a fall
I can survive, live on my own

Noticing someone else’s suffering is hard
Wrapped up in your troubles, with an aching heart
But if you open your eyes, you’ll see a man apart
If you can call me a man, I guess

Walking round with an unchanged expression
Ducking and keeping away from the deed
You might think it’s all to get attention
And you’re right, but that’s what I need
I knew a group of people whom my heart held dear
I loved them, and I love them still
But they weren’t there for me in my time of fear
Now I’m not gonna bend my will

How many days of quiet can I keep?
How hard will the blade into my mind seep?
How long can I hide away and weep?
Before you realise I’m not at best

So it’s time to say fare thee well
Don’t know where I’m strolling in my daze to
Just gonna follow my path down the well
See if it’s someplace new
So I’ve thought it through and through again
No pleading will make me change my head
Maybe, before, if I had a friend
But now, it’s too late to hear what I’ve said

The love I have for you will always burn
But my back’s to you, and I’ll always turn
If you haven’t figured it out, you’ll never learn
I want a hug, but I’m drowning in my sleepiness
Speak Slowly Jul 2018
There are things people want from me but can you not see that some things cannot be. I just want to be me, I write poems decently fast. But its so hard to spit bars. I dont want fame or glory, but with these hands I'll tame the expressions within me. Read my words imagine my world, but never see me in it. I'll share a new point of view, but only the open minded few can understand the work of hand, pen and paper. Is it a talent to write such raw feelings, only you, the being reading this can judge. Judge my words, my flaws and my ideals. Do I hit you deep in the feels? Do you relate? Is this fate? Maybe you and I are looking for our inner selves. It feels like digging through a book shelf. But as we age we find our greatest collection of stories and just as many worries. A pile of imperfections but there are still perfect moments.
-SS
Day 22
It was a restless night when I couldnt sleep so I started writing and after reading it over many times I settled down and could finally sleep. Enjoy :)
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