Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
sara Jun 2018
Oh, to be a poet
one must be so emotional.
Well, no. Not necessarily.
We're only really capable
of understanding feeling,
investigating our emotions.
It doesn't mean we cry all day,
or pass nights in dark rooms moping.

We have lives; come home from work
or get in on a night bus back;
it's from all this experience
that we can draw out fact.
From mundane to extraordinary
we will become inspired.
Our strength is versatility
and life ignights our fires.

So, we do not all have to be
constricted to intensity
-to ponder oh-so seriously
on what it simply means 'to be'.
We can be strong, flirty, or mean
or to the brim with confidence.
For, what does 'to be a poet' mean,
if you cannot explore yourself?
'Our strength is versatility' is something I feel is very important and sometimes forgotten among stereotypes of what poetry should be about
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
This is not, a time to loosen up
Or nine to five job to give up
Just saddle up the power is in you
Five ladies cafe to dine at five and
drove_* the meter is running
(The Canadian Cup) team versus the
     Taxi Cup
He swooned you in your
Five dreamy but half heart sugars
Come on Baby bloomers
Let's see some boom!!

In your hips men will be men taking
frequent flyer trips temptation 1 2345
We need fewer digs one love teo reasons
World  345  heart flags
We don't have to cross our hearts
Perhaps tattoo heart legs no more strikes
Jumping Jack flash
What a rope in this isn't the Pope

Somehow we all get broke
To court her like your the lasso
stars cosmos hearts like Lassie
Never a change of subject how it
remains in your heart how it hit hard
to react but changed to five cards
Digging too long  lucky 777 like heaven
Heart digs

Oh! There

No, I am here
We are always  
numbers_ I only
have 5 minutes
No I phone have a heart
Oh! where is designed for me
Those five plates

Whats in between them

We are opening Live- Five
Strong heart to give the caring
The useful heart is never so daring
My gate* Girls are nail digging

Or losing add +

Our community
Heftier like Jupiter
Heart to build
the gravity
A big kiss hunch
of five roses

Your getting to bloom
but only have
5 extra movie parts
The front dress mermaid tail
Your heart delicate hands
opened up your emails
I think you hit the

Max to the million shot
No heart of gold
Only more leaders
Scrambling and digging
your fork
Mixing those egg beaters

Five men think they know
there women
like ten
Turn to five wrong
There it goes the lucky
five arguments

A plot beating
like a hot-shot
The French Baguette
Bread 9 to 5 firecracker
Five-carat baguette
wedding band in her safe
Heart digs to five hands
Heart neck guilty as a giraffe

The cafe house had only
5 cups left  they sold you out
Only Five Bed and breakfast
Do detailed with their Ladyfingers
But need more alone time
Be on time get sweet key lime
What is real-time so sublime

That rose- paper cut- origami
Sorcerer of five he was like the
cold cuts of big Sub Salami
Japanese sword samurai
What a Geronimo Oh! no
This wasn't a hot potato

Or Gizmo No-Go
Getting a shot for Polio
The gusto songs to the heart play
Maestro the Cosmo's
The five stars to heart his
Like a titanic ship but heroics

Five lunatics wedding horns ******
Five two timer Mario gamers
so demonic
DOMINO'S bed five students wed
We dug deeper get-up sleepy-head
Exposed cries location set
Network U- dig cups

Something lip curved
He misplaced my lips
What did he do in exchange
More stocks and hard stone rocks
Like frying pan egg
scrambled words

Crossed heart Rapper so believing
The Fox five sticking tacky glue
His CD Rose lying pants no clue
Painful pointed shoes need R&R
     Robin's *Responsibilities
       The Heart On Replay
The deeper you dig to restart

The healthy organically grown brain
Men on Pause I truly believe nature
takes its course
but another beat to go is that so?
And if so heart digs to five
Feel the good vibe in another tribe
Five times I had to wake you up
I am the love cure reminiscing

Giving me five reasons
Our beautiful change of
heart in season

Studying the fine art heart
Never refusing thats life
five-step to strive nothing

Robin shoutbox she getting
her point across
Either you're the worker or loner
The heart pleaser the boss
Your heart looks good
on your dress
Whether we win or deep mess
The good heart can change to
a bad start

Recharge your heart count to five
Venus- beauty moved on like a
pathologist digging over staying alive
The hearts what digs this is not the 9-5 workers we are talkers
and long settling in heart walkers come any join me we may actually be alive did I get a live one
zebra Feb 20
scarlet haught
queen of mirth
dog ****
drooling jewelry red splits
pulled by a chariot  
of six hundred million house cats
dissembling for freaky insertions
of scarlet bud flowers uterine tube

breath of spit
while ballet toes kiss fingers and tongues
glazing thickly tides sweat
bamming greased ****

Christ *****
"once upon a never more"
bi-sexed up
**** twitch glistening holes
drizzle fish
in red tents overturned
for fabulous *******
and angelic *****'s
flirty dance the come **** me  

her throat a never ending squealed gullet
sublime Madonna of Oor
bare thighed and pulpy spread
scissor strokes and stride
wagging tongue for rosy oleo sticks
and **** pastry rectums pulled tight
in lop sided temples of split flesh

another ambulance to the emergency **** ward
in a dreamland of leggy nurses

sacred fig of Freyja
Goddess to **** toys
and pretty pretty who go that way
hocus opus poke and stir
freckle face **** mouth
a lapping menagerie

i gird my ***** and follow her
into a cologned room; of dark rim box butter
***** yelping for
a slow grind in a belly of clams

red and velvet pageant
she nests in the heart
a midwife disturbia
to pregnant lust
being pushed down and worked up
till loosened in thick ****
and black whip afterbirth
like flowers of curves and blood

her banquet; a platter of wet orifice
trilling vibratos ******
and anxious kisses crawling through her mouth
like fallen angels flying
dire sister of knock out *******
pleading goth nuns for lesbian heated
Satan loving veiled Christian crotch
and a thousand delicious gaped
******* **** poundings
and mouth ***** **** plunge

crucifix of wrack and *****
****** and beaten senseless
instructions from the  book of night
of **** and spite
written by
Abrahams primitive nations
arms of the cross she is nailed to
sweet ***** waifs beaten dead
in a tillage of brokenness

mans club
shore of incinerated witches and tortured justice
shut up when your talkin to me
clan of honor
duo troupe
almanac of hell
Deb Jones Sep 2018
People can fall into the habit of feeling low. We can get used to anything,
Especially bad things.
Doesn’t that scare you?

Get up off the floor.
Get dressed in something,
Light and flirty.
We WILL be getting *****.

Did you think the way up is easy?
I am teasing you,
It actually is.
First you raise your eyes

You make eye contact
With the first person you see,
Walking towards you.
They will look back at you.

They will first look confused.
Then look conflicted.
Do they know you
from somewhere?

The social awkwardness
Will try to stifle you.
Don’t drop eye contact,
Don’t blink.

Just slowly smile.
Let the smile calm this stranger
Don’t look away.
This is the best part

As you close the distant
And are ready to pass,
Say casually
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

The person will relax
And their sweet smile will greet
The next stranger.  
And they will make eye contact.

Something so simple,
Can not only make you feel
Connected and good  
But you have paid it forward

To a stranger.

Let’s all start drawing straight lines
across this crooked world.
Deb Jones Mar 2018
She seems like a bumble bee
Quick and flighty

Her eyes always flitting
Her gaze ever flirty

People are drawn to her
They love her liveliness and charm

Her attention casually given
So lovely and warm

Her words are like wine
You feel heady and drunk

You want to be closer
To be noticed and loved

It's so warm
That attention of hers

But she is looking for treasures
Assessing worth

She collects hearts
No matter the cost

Being caught in her net
Doesn't feel bad

The knowing look in her eyes
Doesn't offend

It's like having a secret
Unknown to the rest

What no one sees
Is that gaze they admire

Is furtive and restless
Tallying the tolls

Assessing treasures
To line her nest

Taking and using
Her charm is all gilt

A thin layer of gold
Covering her soul

Do you never wonder why
Most of her crowd are men?

She is a Magpie
She has collected you
Carter Ginter Nov 2017
Feelings overflowing
Dripping from the cracks in my heart
Coursing through my veins
The excess seeps into my lungs
And I can't breathe

I watch you carefully
Trying desperately to read you
But like a million books in foreign tongue
I cannot follow the lines
Enough to reach a valid conclusion

The distance between us is stiff
My body aches with the tension of this anxiety
And though I avoid eye contact mostly
Sometimes I let myself slip

While it felt so wrong before
I'm learning to love myself
And embrace this capacity
To love multiple people at once
I'm slowly accepting my feelings for you
Swimming alongside my love for her

And here we are
Waiting patiently for what?
We have the perfect chance at something
And we embrace every minute of it

Every flirty text that makes my heart race
Every tear spawning from our partners' faces
The beautiful distance between us
Without the pressure and rush often associated with love

We sacrifice our energy on loved ones who don't understand
The true extent to which some humans can love
We endure the pain of supporting confused partners
So we can spend that extra time getting ready
To look cute for a simple conversation on my couch

I'm happy this way
Free from the socialized constraints of monogamy
Allowed to feel freely
To love freely

And regardless of where this experience leaves us
I'm going to embrace every opportunity it offers
And though our path is terrifyingly unmarked
I couldn't feel more at peace with it
Candy Flip Mar 2016
When I was a child, there was something mildly special about standing in the garden, late into the minutes leading up to my bed time. It was something about the thrill of disobedience, as if I were already an adult, making my own decisions.

This poem is about my testicles.

A thousand twinkling freckles gazed down at me. Joining the dots with a finger extended high as if gripping an imaginary pen, lines would appear. The celestial wrinkles of an old woman who wears these wrinkles with pride – the imprint left by a lifetime of smiles like how an old arm chair wears the imprint left by a lifetime of back-sides.

A singular eye governs the sky, and through what I interpret as a flirty act of desire, winks at me, through a thirty day cycle. I let out a giggle, and wink back.

On the horizon, trees sway in a purposeful and rhythmic way, as if conducting a symphony meant just for me; the delicate harmony of distant car horn beeps, the melody of crickets and bird tweets, and the gentle percussion of snapped twigs and crushed leaves.

Blades of wet grass become fingers seductively passing between my toes. A gust of wind blows and like a comb, massages out the knots in my hair, whispering through a foreign tongue pros into my ear.

And I can feel it inside, a connection with the night. As passion builds, a bird takes flight, and I let out a confident breath: I am in love with life! I’m in love with the Earth, warm days and clear skies. I’m in love with nature: the birds and mammals, snails, slugs, spiders and flies.

I await a reply.

Which doesn’t come.

Years go by.

And then, half way through my puberty, when the world was not so alien and new to me, I had the sad epiphany that maybe this symphony of car horns and bird tweets was not meant for me.

That, if I were not standing precisely here, or had tragically lost both my ears, the trees would continue to conduct their tune, unstirred by the news that their audience had disappeared.

And with this realisation, came an audible, synchronised plop, as – like a penny – my two ***** simultaneously dropped as if recoiling, paralysed in shock.

Then in the following silence, a tumbleweed drifted by as if to imply some kind of mockery to the thoughts going through my mind.

But of course, it was just a coincidence. The tumbleweed, in its oblivious innocence has no knowledge of the context of my thoughts, like a bolt of lightning can’t appreciate its momentary grasp of dominance over an angry sky. Like an atom doesn’t appreciate the burden of the service it provides, like a poem doesn’t appreciate the metaphors woven purposefully between every line.

And how could I sleep at night knowing that a hurricane could slip into existence, tear its way through a village of innocents then ******* in an instant leaving no form of apology or reason?

This is the dilemma of owning a conscious mind in a world of impartiality.

And if you don’t mind, I’m going to divide this audience into two sides: those who are matured and wise, and when they look at the night sky, see those wrinkles reflected in their own eyes – and those who are young and naïve, to whom this insight may come as a surprise.

To the wise and mature, I assure you that we are all in fact slowly dying. The only reason you’re alive is through generations of successful breeding and surviving. God is dead, and love is a chemical compound produced in your head.

And to the young and naïve, I’ll leave you with this line: despite the pessimistic undertones this poem implies, if you just don’t worry, you’ll turn out just fine.
I will now write all my poetry in pros as I feel like it leaves more freedom for my presentation.
Dandy Lioness Sep 13
My friends and I are having a ball.
We are dancing and chancing and decking the hall.
I'm so busy, I have no time to fall.
I'm not lonely.
You're lonely.
I don't miss you at all.

My friends and I are carefree with glee.
We joke and we choke on the best hydro green.
I'm laughing so hard I may even ***.
I'm not crying.
You're crying
These tears are happy.  

My friends and I are coquets, so flirty.
We use a*holes and leave them right after coffee.
I don't want your commitment; I just want to be free.
I don't love you.
You love you.
Do you still love me?
"The lady doth protest too much“
Inspired by the lovely Wilco song  “Lonely 1”

Happy Friday the 13th
It’s a sad, sad scene on a Saturday night;
a lady sits  at the bar with no lover  in sight.
Stirring her drink with the straw in their hand,
bemoaning the lack of a suitable man.
She’s long since been abandoned by her ”Mister Right”,
Now the magic never lasts for more than one night.
She’s a leftover lover on the wrong side of thirty.
Feeling sad for herself; not the least bit flirty.
She has a good job and a place here downtown
But a true mate and friend is nowhere to be found.
No one to go home to, except for her kitty,
A sad denouement for one once thought to be pretty.
“Either they’re momma’s boys or they’re ***”
She thinks of the “talent” she sees on display.
She knows all too well that, in a drink or two,
She’ll be stumbling home with Mister He’ll do.
Inspired by an article that posits that singles over the age of thirty are mostly damaged goods being picked over like items in a thrift store
Selena Jul 2018
Last night I saw the fear in your eyes
the vulnerability seeping in.
I made you vulnerable and you hated me for that
you hated that I was the only one
who actually made you feel something
so you had to go and cheat
but I was the **** all though your inbox
says different
A flirty message with a heart faced attached
it doesn't mean anything I tell myself
he loves me.
But I never truly believed. Us girls caught
up in our heads is he thinking of me too.
you broke my heart and I want to break your spine
my therapist says letting anger out is healthy
but I actually want you to die
I want you to feel the pain I felt when I saw you with not the first but the third girl. But I was the idiot for going back.
I want you to not be able to sleep at night
Having panic attack after panic attack
wondering why you were never good enough
I want you to die
because I see in colors and you shut your blue eyes and now all I see is black.
because you said you loved me
and her
and her
my liver trying to accommodate all the alcohol just to get a weakened smile
my veins screaming for me to stop
bleeding them dry my head spiraling trying to get me to think of anything else but you
your manipulative blue eyes and your sinful lips but I am my own worst enemy
Hendricks Oct 2018
It started off a normal night,
And ended with me in fright,
Going out drinking with my new friends,
Dancing in an array of twists, twirls and bends,
All it took was my eye to not be on my glass,
That little pill slipped in “oh it’ll be a laugh”,
I don’t know if it happened like this,
Who, where or what my brain seems to miss,
Intoxicated and blood laced with who knows what,
My predator must have smiled and thought “oh what the ****”,
And that he did in his shiny apartment,
Where I laid bare with a ****** inserted,
This is how I know what happened that night,
Higher higher it got pushed up and sat tight,
Is this how it happened ? I do not know,
My nightmares change every time when I wake up sweaty and cold,
I have accepted what happened and the part I had to play,
I drunk girl being silly, flirty eyes saying hey,
But the pill allowed his **** inside of my...well you know...
That pill took away my voice and my chance to say NO!
Now I must live with that night,
Whilst that mans going out without a clue in sight,
To him I was just a drunk girl as he did not give me the pill,
So was it ****? Who knows? My brain is yet to spill...
Today I got her response,
It was "12 AM" on the clock.
There was no power in our block,
It was the  STUDY room where I had to skulk;
but the rain was pouring on the rocks.
Oh! I forgot to thank my poetic kludge.

I put my phone on charge and reply her back,
with an appropriate emoji that match,
and now we were exchanging words.
That flirty nature of mine;
Runs through the fingers when I had wine.
many nasty and hasty thoughts were rising;
and I had to made them extemporize,
so that it matches her vibe.

I asked her dose she have a twin?
and send her a picture to help my chances win.
soon she sees the picture she asked her name,
It's "SAZAN"  and welcome to my game.

The conversation with her was amazing and fecund,
and she worth every second.
We both are strangers but for a moment we exist together,
in a digital screen as if it's a white paper.
Autumn blows with hints of winter,
Mood descends to match the weather
Sorry I couldn't help you,  and I
Still ain't got my **** together

Spark a stick of nicotine,
And sink into my self-reflecting
Got a whole lot more to say,
And I know it's not what your expecting

Humor wanes,  like crescent moon,
My memory tumbles back to June,
I think of all those promises
That never would be kept

Take 3 deep breaths to clear my mind
Of all the loss I've left behind,
And now I think about it,
Somehow strangely I have never wept
(Yet still I brood on all those
melancholy nights I never slept)

Seems like every time I find
The will to let down my defenses,
Honestly flies out my mouth
Despite my gilded best intentions

Much too late for me to take
Emotions back, and lock them down
I'll flash a wicked rictus grin
Like Pennywise the evil clown

Excavate my rusty hatchet,
Time to chop down olive branches
Tough to slay a dragon for you
Armed with only broken lances

Suffer awful habits as I
Lounge on decomposing laurels
Find myself in crosshairs of
Outrageous Fortune's emptied quarrels

Flick another cancer stick,
Continue with my self-reflection
Yeah, I've still got more to say,
And you might tell from my inflection

Hits a little close to home,
Whose walls are white and stark and bare
I'll whisper to a flirty femme
Who winks at me and twirls her hair

So now I sit and shift my hips
To grind on the lust of another woman
How many months must pass before
I see I was worked up all for nothin'

Lift my eyes from off her thighs
And look into her smiling face
I think I might maintain if I can
Keep the pain in another place
labyrinth Sep 27

When it comes to selling a pure soul to Devils
There are basically three good-looking levels

What we ought to be analyzing the first
Known as quenchless material thirst

This is where you ever start being flirty
With anything iniquitous and/or *****

Seeing estate, ranks or things as somewhat valuable
Is precisely what makes you weaker and more fallible

Watch out! Once you’re out of your humble abode
It’s tough to come back from that tempting road

Still rather innocent level to be at
Heads up! You don’t know what it might beget

Even violating a red light for that matter
Will help you get worse. No. Not better

Fly might be too little, but think in the ointment
Not worth it to dishonor your biggest commitment

Being a human, that is. As the day you were born
Ponder on it for a sec! Before you scorn

Evidently at this stage, the relation with money
Is like a baby bear and a jar of honey

Little by little minds are ravished
Easy come easy go. Lots are lavished

Enough number of bad deeds to practice
Sure elevated you way higher than apprentice

You’re already accustomed to being unfair
Before you know it, you’ll forget how to spare

As time passes by, you’re at the very threshold
Of Daemon’s pawn shop, where dignities bought and sold

Please stop acting like you don’t have a clue
We all know, this didn’t come out of the blue

Deliberately avoided to get a rain check on this
It’s nobody’s fault now, you chose being amiss


Then, of course my friend, has arrived the second
Where the Old Nick from the above beckoned

Congrats! You graduated from dirt to sewer
The last thing you need though is a respirator

Masters give you orders now, looking like requests
You’re already a guard-dog, with no right to quest

Good news though, the pay offs are way bigger
Can you dig it? You sneaky, cheeky digger

Including but not limited to bribing
Cutting in lines, cheatings, lies or bid rigging

Then come rip-offs, swindles and deceits
A whole lot of rotten bucks with no receipts

Agreements, clients, customers to take care
Simply for the sake of your modest share

Don’t get carried away, we’re focusing on vicious
Deals of the bad guys, who are too ambitious

To go for the sinless mass, and trick them for wealth
Also playing with their education and health

Or else any clean trade with sweat and decency
Is not the subject here, except positive recency

What do I mean by that? Positive stays in mind
Little good news every day, to keep crowds all blind

Anyway, where were we? Let’s just keep proceeding
To describe to folks, what the hell’s really happening

Style counts, huh? All ties and jackets
While squirrelling away the fortune in buckets

It’s legit, it’s shapely. It’s not artifice.
Make no mistake. Around here, we call it business

Regardless of whose, walk away with all you could
At the end of the day, you’re not ******* Robin Hood

How fascinating, virtually as good as it gets
Go Figure. The last step, where the Evil One besets


You’re at the third and last phase already
His highness the Satan is now your sugar daddy

Civil rights, law, ethics, and much more to violate
The upper the stairs, the more to annihilate

Get ready straight to make millions suffer
From that armored zone of yours, you call buffer

Say; having children work, for real late hours
Well, it’s their children, right? Not ours...!

Going for pension plans of the most innocent
Is mere prize to you. Almost magnificent

Causing conflicts to sell even more weapons
What’re you gonna do man? **** just happens...!

Resolutions, legality, votes and members
Are tools to Lucifer. But who remembers.

Vietnam, Africa and all Middle-East
Where you have real wars to feed your beast

Journalists, congressmen, soldiers or presidents
On the payroll in this firm and bunch of happy residents

As you step up, one day you will realize
Almost all the wealth belongs to you and your allies

But that won’t make you stop from chasing your goals
Remember, Beelzebub already bought your souls

Don’t know the first thing, why the rest’s so stupid
Distorted religion maybe or TV makes them this torpid

Better this way anyway, cos (because) if they awake
You’ll have to ****’em all to keep your dear stake

Once you’re registered in this ****** parade
You get paid as long as your role is well-played

Thus, it will be a ******* habit for you to breach
Anything and everything that’s within your reach

Crème de la crème treatment will be your regular
Etiquette is your last name, you shameless embezzler

But, hey. You’ll look very good in that high-end camouflage
All this charade to you is one good Swedish Massage

I don’t think one will ever solve this double-bind puzzle
So keep up the good work with your stinky razzle-dazzle

Meanwhile, refrain from looking in the mirror
I forgot. It’s only business and you’re not a sinner

Dude! It’s about time now, you can die rich
Just before that however; here’s one last preach

You look sharp alright, charismatic and ****
One day you’ll regret all this, I’m not just whistling Dixie

Come around and behave. Labyrinth calls your class
Take it all otherwise and shove it up your ***
Copyrighted work
Laughter, I could hear it through the phone and could listen for hours
A smiling face , one that would make me smile whenever I would see it
Such a way with words, just a whisper of a command and I would surely fall to her feet
An old soul in your eyes, and you would see the world in ways that amaze me
Flirty and bright, you left me in the dust with jokes and witty retort
Intriguing and shy, but never afraid to carve your own path with your personal style
So many things and so many different types of  beauty and grace
But how to describe me?
For a writer possesses it muses guise and is never the same twice
Am I witty and comfortable
I suppose I could say I am observant and a ear to listen to the woes
Or am I closer to laidback and rude enough to make a grandma blush?
But tis no fret
I see beauty in all
To walk in another's shoes is a breath of life in the line of imagination
One day I can be the warrior willing to sacrifice all
The next I can be sinner punishing thyself more then any could do to him
Or a parent watching their child grow older learning more about yourself in your little one
Writing is my soul … no need to be good at it
No need to be the best among my many faces
I am a blank page, so write as you will my story
But in my hand and head, I see beauty, hate, and much more
Although it might drive me crazy, I love it to the very fault
For she is humorous with eyes as deep as lakes and speaks with words that make me weep with sorrow or die over again with joy
Sofia Von Dec 2018
I’m sick of the lies
I’m sick of the guise
Be an ******* to my face you *******
Cut me out like a man
Don’t ****** walk away like I did you wrong
I’ve given you nothing but love from the beginning
and you snap it back in my face
*****, I can your disgrace
and this race of ungrateful haste should rethink their approach in the presence of a kind heart and unwavering loyalty
you pushed me to the edge
and so I pledge
to never trust a soul
cuz this tossing and turning in yearning cuts deep
and I don’t get enough sleep
so count your sheep and be gone without a peep you ******* creep
I’m too real to pretend
In a world of fake embellishments to conceal god’s embroidery
I really thought you’d mean more to me
but you blend n bend just like the rest and to me
you’re just a guest so save me
the best
As I attest to never rest my pen for a pimpled partridge laced to dance to the tune we all know is rehearsed
I’m different
I see your past
I see your essence
I know your actions before you make them and lemme tell you
I could sell you here and now but you wouldn’t be worth it.
Don’t name me n game me like your dame to-be cuz I hear your hesitation and bruises
look like ******* on wanna be bad boys
**** all that noise
I’ve done that ****
I’ve lived that life
And I can play ***** less flirty and more wordy than a whole gurney of **** with no praise for your plug’s percocet purse you’re tryna nurse cuz no curse will salvage a sick man’s mind
Next time, don’t even bother
hittin me up for a quick ****
cuz you blew that chance a long time ago and I’d have to be on twice the amount of **** I was on then to ******* now
Ha! Like you’d even know how!
I’ve seen your hickeys of conquests Do you think I’m blind?
And that shows you’ve still gotta brag
boy, I’ve ****** your whole family with out a scratch so catch a disease cuz you’ll never please between my knees
You were beneath me from the beginning
But I gave you the doubt
And still
you’d rather smash for the clout cuz your way out of this drought are delusions of grandeur
not credible candor
On a firey rant. written a few months ago.
These shattered pieces of my life,
Failure, repetition, constant strife,
More dark than light, more cons than pro's,
The times I've tried, heaven knows!

Rarely happy, more often sad,
The brightest spark, those calling me dad,
When things seem on track, I'm soon derailed,
And yes I've tried, then failed and failed.

My social circle is very small,
Look very closely, it's only Paul,
I let people in, then I get burned,
Build barriers high, the lesson learned.

I don't need anyone to make me complete,
But a shoulder to lean on, that would be sweet,
Someone to hold, it's been a while,
Someone to care for behind the smile.

Struggles, stresses, over thinking,
Feeling like I'm always sinking,
An outlet for friends, that's never in doubt,
But can anyone hear me when I shout?

A humour so dark, I make others cringe,
But if I let it all out, their soul I'd tinge,
A cry for help you'll never hear,
I just need to know there's somebody here!

To live with loathing, to live with doubt,
Has become what life is all about,
The person you know, warm, sincere,
Has become a mask, my thin veneer.

Branded flirty, often shameless,
Tho deep inside, I know I'm worthless,
And so I share me in this verse,
To help other sufferers lift their curse.

Cinco Espiritus Creation - 2019
Poetoftheway Mar 16
even tho the fire was never really lit truly human,
their tousled hair and sad eyed lowland blues owning the fullness of natural emptiness ain’t no crime, like a double negative,
to which no one no cares no objects when spoken

those bad boysenberries radiate a flirty tarty aure, venus fly traps
for those needy to do a saving, the sweets of the the three poems
memorized for wooing, oft another’s undoing, the top button
releasing a burning bush of chest heat
being misleading the  reddening cheeks

was a bad boy once of ill repute, daddies and mommies warning
their innocents of my word of mouth reputation, making me 100%
irresistible, so all forgot when climbing into my two-seater to go
moon gazing swooning,  learning the moves practiced in nightime

bad boys still need saving sooner but usually later, cause
moon gazing is still a thrill for his new audience of grand children,
proof that some of them boys are hiding well enough stuff
beneath their veneer

be the miner of a thousand years, teach these child boys well,
crack them open, let the empty escape and light rays spill in
**** if some of those bad boys grow up
now, just to be  bad poets laughing
at the foolishness of the early days of
discontented shortsightedness incontinence of a soul fumbling
I swear I meet fellow grandmothers who confirm the whisperings 3-16-19
RisingUp Aug 2018
I was lost
Didn't know how to be found
And then you came
And turned my life a bit around

Messaging you
Brought joy to my day
Light to my eyes
Sadness melted away

Flirty remarks
Danced in my head
My hopes grew
My heart wasn't dead

A couple of dates
Went very well
I had a feeling
I was "under your spell"


The messages stop coming
What did I do?
How could this go wrong
This is just so new?

My mind had planned
Well in advance
That you would probably
Give me a chance

Alas I was wrong
I pushed you away
Nobody to blame
but my own foul play

And now your silence
Stabs my gentle heart
This wonderful future
Brutally torn apart

I wish I understood
Your lack of replies
Forever left
With a multitude of whys
Next page