"flamboyantly" poems
"Stoner's Poem"
I see your snapstories,
I see your ask profile.
I see how you comment and reply and flaunt your English skills.
Trust me, I love your rebuttals,
More than Biryani and the Lebanese pornstar.
I see your Facebook posts,
I see your WordPress,
And I see, how you craft your poems flamboyantly,
And then, and then,
Pilfer my breath,
And rob my me.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
Your deportment bewilders me,
More than Lowry-Bronsted's theory.
I see how you dance in the rain,
Like "All, sin, tan, cos", do in my brain.
I see how you frequent every segment of my cardiac muscle,
And then desert it, like it's one of the many dilapidated constructions.
My reminiscences about your thingness,
Escalate me to a higher spiritual level,
More than **** does.
Oh, that smile,
Oh, that look,
Oh, the mystique in you.
And again, I am writing of Love.
And the pen doesn't seem to stop soon,
For I have taken a greater risk,
Than asking my friend about cathodes and anodes and electrolysis, while I took my last chemistry exam,
When the invigilator was around.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
A precious hummingbird, left rhythmic sounds, in sweet soft notes
Playing music, light and heavenly, as I waved adios
Soaring freely, upon Springs gentle breeze
With finesse and ease
With iridescent feathers
Flamboyantly taking flight, in this lovely weather
Graciously gazing through
Surely, dazzling too
Quickly resting on tree branches, in attune
Fearlessly humming, in romantic tunes
Dancing smoothly
And elegantly
Modeling beautifully, in its fine long beak
Very entertaining and chic
And casually stopping in the center of a flower
Obtaining nectar, in the morning hour
Placing a grin on my face
While engaging in an impressive, cozy space
Instilling a fulfilling and pleasant day
And quite excited, it came my way
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
365Nectar #60 Devour Me
Fri. November 22, 2013 9:18 P.M.
Devour me...
A provocative passionate pouring
of pillaging and plundering...
A pleasing prowling
of a piercing plunderer...
A lovely, limp nymph
laid upon a sizzling alter...
Smoldering...
Awakening all the senses
a choking of lust
unleashes exhilarating
and
envelops you...
Effortlessly evoking ethereal...
a sinister seduction
seductively seduces
and hungry hips
breakdance with hysterical
Stimulating a surreal surge of a sweet seeping...
waiting...
impatiently...
For you to chisel
an unimaginable devouring...
S slow steady climb to the summit
of the ultimate ******
Time-
Time-
Time... a tool to employ flamboyantly...
immediately...
eargerly...
Expose my conquered heart
that leaks
of streams
of cream
of succulent sensation...
Expose my tamed moistness
that whispery whines
as you build a legacy
of torturous licking....
Seductively...
Slithering in spicy spirals
of stirring screams
from stormy shivers
of steamy anticipation
of your redefining touch...
Suddenly...
drowning in the sticky sensation
of all that is us...
A tender luscious love liquefying flesh
and penetrating souls...
We blend in blazing bliss
tapping taboo for titillating thrills
you rock a rowdy ravishing
inside me...
I whisper wet whimpers
and beg for bitten breast...
Our wrestling hips
hug, ***** and groan a hungry growling...
Pounded into saturated submission
I linger in lubricating dreams
for you-
to...
devour me.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
*I wish we met when her tarmac road was still mellow
Then when she still danced to the Congolese tune "Mbelo",
I wish we met when she could not stare in the eyes
Right when she was too shy to tell any lies,
I wish we met when she was still under her Mama's apron strings
So innocent, when she still trusted human beings,
I wish we met when she did church each and every Sunday
And had no thought of bearing a guilty conscience someday,
I wish we met when she saw the world for her best, not her worst
When the balloon of her ***** wasn't yet burst,
I wish we met when her future was still blinding bright
Wish I'd seen her in the dawns of her life, not the nights
When she knew no whiskeys or beers but only Fanta and Sprite
So that she wouldn't get herself in trouble and drunken fights,
I wish we met when she still had dry “unkisssed’’ lips
When she thought kisses were an unhealthy swap of saliva,
I wish we met when she hadn't developed attractive hips
When she wasn't a depressed Heart-wreck survivor,
I wish we met when she still believed in fantasy and fairy tales
And had a honest fascination for cowry shells,
I wish we met when she flamboyantly wore her natural African hair
When she still thought herself naturally beautiful and fair,
I wish we met when studies hadn't corrupted her mind and stolen all her hours
When she still smiled at the sight of frail petals of red rose flowers,
Wish we met when the movie title that described her ******* isn't “Olympus
Has Fallen”
But probably “Hard Boiled”, “Only the Strong” or “Swollen”,
I wish we met when she had faith in things like weddings, when her soul was
a spring of hope
When she hadn't lost respect for such societal norms preferring to elope,
I wish we met when she still respected danger
And risked not accepting courtesy from every rich stranger,
I wish we met when she believed true love existed in the world
Maybe then she'd believe my each and every word,
I wish we met when she still honestly needed a friend
I’m sure I’d be there to love and care for her till the end.*
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Memories of moments
Pressed into my mind
Like the flowers in your journal
That you keep.
You are the
Soft and silent
Break in the wind
Through the strongest storm.
You are the
Flame that flickers
In the
Depths of darkness.
You are the
Color of the leaves
As the sun
Falls flamboyantly
In the fall.
You are the
Beautiful bird
That flies and sings
As it bounces
From branch to branch.
Calmness and surrender
Sets suddenly
Over me.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 6:25 PM UTC
grown too big for my britches,
I run my fat, fat mouth until I
look like a fool--a happy one.
flirting up a storm with his friends,
antagonizing my brother, my friend,
until she yells, and he kicks my ***
I went for a hug, and he kicked my *** (!) physically pinning me, I can't move
I rolled him over once, at least I got that, and he later apologized for be a ****
I mean, he's got three inches
fifty pounds of muscle, and
actual fighting
training on me
How long could I really last?
I am a woman, I am weaker.
Kate told me that in Nepal, the men backhand the women and children, very easily, and she was backhanded for not remembering how to say her name in Nepallian. That must feel awful, to have a feeling of power handed over to big fists because of strength, not money.
I watch the trees, I break a beer bottle on accident
I flash the cars over the bridge, I wasn't even that
drunk, I am just sad--very tired of feeling nothing.
It's just sibling rivalry, and we'll both get over it.
my family makes a tall crowd;
my mother is 5'10", the shortest
we were raised to party, hard, and we entertain, flamboyantly
we were raised to clean it up, efficiently, to take responsibility
I might be a fool, but at least I'm going to be happy later.
That's not guaranteed though, I am sure of that, certainly
He might be too jaded to be as successful as he could be.
That's not guaranteed though, I am sure of that, certainly.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
Across a million faces
in a thousand different places
I find you in blossoms of flowers
like am a captive of your magical powers
I find you in the depth of my heart
even if we are completely worlds apart
in cold days mocked by soothing patters of rain
pattering right above the echo of my pain
I see you here with my eyes shut
in the emptiness, as my mind is dead alert
*I hear your voice in whispers of the wind
maybe you're invisible to me since love's blind
you might be right here as well, trapped to this moment
on the same wave at war in the torrent of torment
bearing painful blisters of regret from burns of desire
enduring stifling emotions that won't retire
reeking of an excellently brewed obsession that won't expire
and since you were my breath I can hardly respire
even the hardest of scotch and wines couldn't lift me higher
out of the abyssal deep doldrums of this mire*
**I smell your scent of roses at night beneath my sheets
and as I walk feeling isolated along these crowded streets
at every single thought about you my confused heart beats
while in my palm where your fingers fitted, cold emptiness slits
I see you in the hovering birds of prey as they bask in the sky
flamboyantly spreading their vast wings as they fly
under the sweltering haze of Sun where I burn for you
in recollection of your entrancingly licentious sigh**
*everywhere I go, in different places
I see you masked upon a million faces
I feel you in the roseate blossom of flowers
in every second of every minute of my hours
for am still a captive of your enchanting powers*
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC
There is a beat, where the rhythm of questionable origins pulsates throughout the uncertainty of our lost generation.
Insects which crawl into the darkness flamboyantly portray the message of Liverpudlian honesty,
Whilst desolate railway arches echo the sound of destination in the face of bewilderment and a heightened awareness of loss.
Oh, to be found in the midst of the brickwork tunnels of death!
I remember how the sticky leads of the ECG scan and my declarations of abstinence merely resulted in intravenous gambles with the reaper of the ancient abyss.
So, I urge you to burn incense, my friend of forgotten rock festivals, whilst I seek to connect with your vein.
You are a lifetime away, yet you are ever present.
Thank you, for sitting with me in my hour of death and for your Isle of Wight being.
The price of MD 20/20 will be etched on my heart forever.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 1:50 AM UTC
A lame table barely stands in a darkened room.
Upon it sits a candelabra tainted with scarlet rust,
Holding like a pedestal two forgotten candles.
One, with its cardinal design, flamboyantly lit
This room a brilliant red and gold,
And illuminated guests
While eating lamb from porcelain plates.
The other, with its pale hue, pitifully lit
Its master's chamber a dreadful orange,
And guided his sleep
To the land of Devilish dreams.
Their melting paraffin forms pools of elegant simplicity,
While the candles slowly get consumed,
No more to sit upon a lame table in a darkened room.
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 12:44 PM UTC
We get it ok,
You're "in love"
Whatever that means,
Flamboyantly displaying PDA across my Facebook newsfeed,
Great,
For you,
But seriously,
Give me a break,
For I got no arm to hold, no kiss to have, no compliments to receive,
Or a "Baby I miss you,"
Yeah that's not for me,
I watch it everyday and wonder why I'm not this way,
Probably because the rhythms in my heart are not as dysfunctional,
I can get on without a "I love you"
For that's like ropes or more like chains on my ankles,
But I don't mind waiting…
Just tired of watching of every so called friend fall to love,
When I'm resistant to all it's evils,
Maybe because I know how evil it can really be,
How attachment strikes the heart and turns a person into one neurotic zombie,
Barely even living,
I say life alone is more worth preserving,
And heartbreak is not worth having,
I feel more easy to breath with just me
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 10:15 AM UTC
The clouds seem to mock the buildings
On days like today,
Flamboyantly drifting across the space
Their grounded counterparts
Don’t have the heart
Nor the stamina
To conceive;
Knowing they will never part
The ground.
Brick and mortar,
They stand
Stagnant in cement;
They believe they have the upper hand.
When capricious skies
Are prone to fickleness,
The buildings stand
Like they do best.
Staring out their window eyes
Story by story
People-watching people
Oblivious to their silent presence
And their
Delicate, intricate scaffolding
For a more pressing interest
In those cloudy skies
And the imaginable possibilities
spawned
By their passing by.
c.e.m. 1.19.15
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:23 PM UTC
My father married a scheming witch
The month that my mother died,
He barely waited her final twitch
And it killed something inside,
I suddenly found myself alone
Apart from my brother, Liam,
But my heart inside had turned to stone
And the house was a mausoleum.
I’d hear her wandering round the house
When my father was away,
And something about the air in there
Made me feel some blank dismay,
For Liam was little help to me
He fell to the witch’s charm,
I tried to warn, but he looked in scorn
While I only felt alarm.
My father became a wealthy man
When my mother left him all,
She’d been the heir to a ladyship
And the deeds to Woolhampton Hall,
A wooden chest with the whole bequest
Was locked in a basement room,
And giant rocks in a jewel box
Would flash, they said, in the gloom.
But Lara never could find the key
Though she searched, both high and low,
My father never let on he knew
For he’d promised my mother so,
When she had said, with her final breath
‘I know all about the witch,
Don’t let her near my jewel box
Or you’ll end in a pauper’s ditch.’
He carried the key most everywhere
In his waistcoat, or his cuff,
He fastened it to his horse’s hair
And once to my choirboy’s ruff,
So Lara stormed while he was away,
I could hear her scream and curse,
And beat her feet on the basement door,
I didn’t know which was worse.
She asked Liam if he’d help her find
The key, and she’d see him right,
I heard him lurking about the house
To our father’s room, at night.
I asked him, ‘Where is your loyalty,
To your father or the witch?’
But he cursed and said flamboyantly,
‘Well, the witch will make me rich!’
‘I wouldn’t go in that basement room,’
I said, in a word of warning,
Remembering something my mother said
To her mirror, one dark morning,
‘I’ve made it plain in my will,’ she said,
‘And it’s there in the many riders,
Whoever thinks they can steal from me,
Must deal with a world of spiders.’
And so it passed, when Liam at last,
Found out where the key was hiding,
Was taking her to the basement stair
While my father was out, and riding,
I heard the screams in the basement room,
That sounded much like a riot,
By the time that I went to lock them in,
Both he and the witch were quiet!
David Lewis Paget
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
your fragrant scent
brings the fresh fumes
that intoxicate
my whole self
your love is in my blood
your love is in my bones
your love is in my vessels
your love is in the corner of my eye
and in my every corner your love
fumigates butterflies
in my gut
in my lungs
in my throat
making more room
this possessive love
this persistent love
this aerosol love
fainting
founding
fevers
flamboyantly
I
fall
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
remember when i was a female jew in tudor england ?
i spoke to rabbi julia neuerberger recently and she said
i dress so much more flamboyantly now than i did then
we wondered if it wasn t because gibbets don t line the streets now like they did then
they re in government and civil service departments
but they do a PR job that could confuse you if you weren t already mad
with so many spilled lakes of blood ,angry faces ,painful intrusions ,violent assaults and verbal conflicts
and you just anticipate the rippling of a cold stream
and the contact of a cats' tongue on the nape of your neck
i wonder if we could diffuse like iodine in vituperative vapour
and perfect the hiding technique we acquired in tudor times but forgot to adopt last century
HIDE DON T SEEK
THERE ARE NO ANSWERS
c marie forte
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
I choose
to wear
my share
of pains
with pride
and panache
like those trees
flamboyantly
adorning their
pale and dry
autumn leaves
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC
They've been there.
They've been there with me.
Ever since my birth.
Ever since my first cry.
Ever since my first giggle.
Ever since my first pain.
They've been by me,
Ever since I started crawling.
Ever since I stood on my feet,
And started walking.
They've been there for me,
For untold number of days,
For a myriad nights,
With absolutely no sleep,
To let me sleep, peacefully.
Without a tension, without any problem.
They've been there.
And they will, I know.
They've tried to make me content.
They've tried to satisfy my needs and wants.
They've tried to feed me the healthiest of foods,
While remaining hungry, themselves,
While starving their own stomachs,
As if they did never feel hungry,
As if it was all fine.
They've taken me to various trips,
Bought me innumerable toys.
Admitted me to one of the best schools.
Spent hours to make me prepared, for various assessments.
Hired the best private teachers,
Paid them as much they demanded,
Without worrying about how the next fifteen days of the month are going to pass.
Without buying anything for themselves,
Without caring for their own health,
They've raised me.
They've raised me, like a prince is raised.
They've just kept aside their wishes.
They've wasted the most precious, most lively, most joyful period of their life, just for me,
So that I could be happy,
So that I had no complaints,
But am I worth their time?
Am I worth this much care?
Will I be able to give them back, at least something, in order to raise the corners of their lips?
Will I be able to do something that will wipe off those invisible tears on their pale faces?
Never. Never will I be able to make them happy.
I have seen them struggling,
Struggling, to give me what they never had,
I have seen them crying, under those synthetic smiles.
I have heard them sobbing, very carefully letting the tears roll down,
So that, I would not wake up,
And when I asked them, what happened, how flamboyantly they shrouded me with innocent lies.
A few more years, and they'll be gone.
And leave me behind.
They'll leave me staring at their pictures and crying and wanting them back to life, to stay there by my side, always.
How shameful it is, for me,
That I never ever had a reason to hug you both.
Maa, baba,
I love you both.
Maybe this isn't enough.
But I will love you both, always.
Always.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
My chemistry betrays me as insanity pleads before lean-jaded depravity
seen scorn as a decrepit unraveling
of baffling mean-spirited entities gathering deceitfully
for more pandering of reality in a gallery slinging misery entirely...
My sympathy behaves erratically
seethes forlorn as heated apathy forms rapidly
soft-churning rhapsody squirms passionately...
Inevitably heart-warming tragedy occurs.
Fiendishly hard-earned philosophy
turns of metaphor laced individuality...
Blurred and slurred rhymes.
Aggressive lines wormed into the tapestry of sadism
this organisms mechanism of limelight fading posturism
burning eyes turning bright from realism
shading light from mine minds rind empty escapism
slime heavy kinda heady with the infectious algorithm...
Swirls bleeding lecherous breathing escaping the rhythm of morbid reality
curiosity yearns for instability
With the itty-bitty fallacy of a gallant killing spree
gallons of rippling prayers stripped of buoyancy
floating dead in the sea flamboyantly...
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 8:23 AM UTC
hello !
i am a
******* fool,
flawed and filthy,
flogged by the frantic frenzy,
the fanciful fantasies has flung me flamboyantly through.
now do you ******* care?
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
We stand shoulder to shoulder
Hand in hand we explore
An army of two,
Flamboyantly we thrash walls of deceit
And thrive for one another
Because each and every little aspect counts,
Regardless of people talking
We still stand as a team
An army of two.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 7:07 AM UTC
i am walking towards sunset and gower in hollywood, california
an aged man tap dances for me in the echoing garage of a foreclosure
a bug is sleeping between the quick and the dead when a raindrop falls on it, jolting it flamboyantly
a small boy with perfectly combed and pomaded hair, and carrying a briefcase, follows proudly his mother (?) down the sidewalk
a bum's heavy load is thrown over his other shoulder in a bright spank of sun
a rare yugo parked in the driveway of a duplex, egg splatter drying across taillights and rear window
the crass bebop step of an old ******* nearing the ***** section of the sidewalk newstand
a sudden gust of wind flattening the fur of a standing collie
a silver/gray tourist bus passes slowly, the voice of the driver unintelligibly droning energetically
i open the screen door of roscoe's house of chicken and waffles, and see a vacant table by the window
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
when suicide, is glued inside
The will to survive, in you divides
And when it gets too hard to deny
Do or die, becomes do and die....
So I divise a list wit a few or five
Plus 7 for 12 ways to do it by
And if I left a letter for suicide
Itd be this list and ***** it bye":
Knife to my throat is felt
Gun in my mouth, then squeeze
Inject ****** in myself to help
Permanently put me out, and sleep
Infront of a bus, I just leap
Cut my wrists, and slit deep
Find someone to lay wit aids and sleep
If they refuse I'll **** like a creep
Start my cars engine, take a seat
parked in my garage that's closed
attach the exhaust pipe to a hose
Then inhale til pale, all the smoke
Go to a kkk rally, all black clothes
Blasting Rap music, then I'd say
I'm a Jewish Muslim feminist
against ****** & flamboyantly gay
While I burn a confederate flag
And If that don't get me killed
dad says I dont finish what I start, he'll be proud cuz this time will
So the bathtub with water I'll fill
Then Plug in my radio and shower
For execution by electrocution
or just Jump off the cn tower
Skip like a school girl in rush hour
Across the highway until Im hit
Climb in a dumpster on garbage day before their pick up and sit
And that's another 12 that's it
I reject what many call a gift
To reimburse this curse, that birth
Gave hurt, but I know this...
That.when suicides glued inside
will ...to survive, in ...you divides
It's too hard to.deny so you decide,
That Do or die, is do and die
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 2:51 AM UTC
A raindrop falls on
a sleeping bug who's jostled
quite flamboyantly.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
*people's cupboards and fridges
tell a curious tale of everything
some a cluttered obstacle course
others an impenetrable rainforest
some coyly veiling their secrets
others flamboyantly revealing
mysteries both shallow and deep
behind doors their treasures keep*
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC