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Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
no... i felt like writing tonight...
but no...
it must be a "first"...
i've built up a headache...
i'm guessing she's Pakistani...
or thereabouts...
         first she sends me picture
of her in a Sari...
then? she sends me a picture of standing
naked in a shower...
o.k.... o.k. **** me...
you ever watch that 13th warrior movie?
the deity of the cannibals?
the headless...
armless... legless ******* and stomach?
she just sent me that sort of picture...
i'm getting a headache...
i'm feeling dizzy...
wasn't i suppose to be this western
stereotype of a man sending
his post-******* sized comforting
envies?!
headache... headache...
why would a Pakistani girl reach out
to me... and send me...
a picture of her naked torso in a shower...
ugh... what?! what?!
sure... lovely *******... a stomach
that could eat a camel's ****...
what about the thighs?!
i'm getting a headache...
   even i know that a ******* is
disorientating...
               i tried it once: never again...
         i prefer the company of only one
woman... two women is a fidgety toe in tow...
oh sure... sure...
western women are the perverted ones...
the desperate ones...
they're the ones sending all the ****-lick-picks...
becauae: likewise... the Muslim women
don't send you pictures of them
attired in a Niqab... and then...
full torso... naked... while under the shower?!
like i said:
i have a headache...
**** LIKE A GLORIOUS COW DEITY
THAT'S TO BE GLORIFIED BY CANNIBALS!
i have a headache because i'm
feeling frenzied...
i'm... losing my ****...
                  
what a terrible headache...
middle-eastern people are terrible at profiling...
they are terrible at: giving themselves profiles...
**** me... if i were to send a ****-lick-pick
to a girl i'd be X...
but if a Pakistani girl sends me a picture
of her *******... and her torso... and her legs...
standing in a shower... prior to sending me
a picture of her in a hijab?!

all the while reading ZHUANGZI...
this world is a joke...
   ****'s sake...
this girl sent me a picture of herself as
a WENDOL'S DEITY...
you... you know what that spawns in a man?
the darkest of cravings...
such that: with the shadow
of man nibbling on the extremities
of the night...

i'm having this terrible: headache...
my shadow is starting to eat the night...
a woman sent me two pictures...
one with her in attire that would
make her sensible...
then another: reckless...
like i perhaps should be:
doing... sending her a picture of my post-*******
phallus...

but... she sends me a picture of her glorious *******
and torso...
she's standing in the shower...
please... don't wake the WENDOL
in me...
            i don't want the "mother-deity" near me...
ugh... headache...
my... my...
                      i think it's too late...
mea culpa... so much for proclaiming myself
as this lover-boy with a picture of me
kissing a *******...
   no wonder i was going to attract my innermost
perversities...
   the deepest... most scandalous... most: childhood
reigniting types...

              but what's that ******* about
men sending pictures of their phalluses?!
what about women sending pictures of their *******
and their torsos to men?!
oh... wait wait...
not enough men get those pictures?
i'm getting a headache...
i've just received a picture of a WENDOL deity...
******* that fed Genghis Khan
and a torso that gave birth to Xerxes!

i feel like licking a canvas...
of one of Lucian Freud's nudes...
even though: i abhor Lucian Freud...
but the picture this girl sent me:
i want to: i don't know...
lick more than paint...
or paint more than lick...
i don't even know...

sure... chubby on the "rims"...
but those *******...
dangling... dangling like the branches
of a weeping willow...
i want any eroticism to disappear
as i suckle back to seeing the sun last...
i don't know...
chubby on the rims...
i don't mind... but with ******* like that...
i want to retract her ability to
sustain both *** and reproduction
with what's first arousal and later
milking: those glorious "hang-abouts"
of fully glimming fat... pouches...

it's a headache...
                unlike a child: i see a pair of ****...
and i'm like... no ***** in sight...
there's more reason for this pair
to be so apparent than for merely a child
to use...
         headache...
                
terrible idea(s)...
            of course she's not a model type...
that's beside the point...
she's just willing: she's pulling me: tugging at
my invisible noose...
             the fact that she's pretending
is the biggest turn-on...
she's showcasing herself as this moral
Islamic heiress... while in private?!
    degenerate...
                   feeding monsters...
that's... what's most attractive:
the contradiction... the hypocrisy...
the totality: the summation of what it is to be
human! a contradiction!

since? no other animal is a contradiction
as an ontological summation per se...
only man...
but woman... please!
don't wake up in me the deity of the WENDOL!
mind you:
i'm terribly suspect when it comes
to Asian women...
raven... hair...
   i get a headache even more terrible...
than... what might be associated as
racial-proficiency in up-keeping demands
for / of continuity...

Asian women are a slow-burn for me...
as is their thinking...
i could do with German thinking throughout my 20s...
but... upon a "return"?
it's back to sq. 1...
   Tao...
                        
oh all that's Asian and anti-European...
i'm more copper-necked
when it comes to the "romance" with summer...
i abhor summer..
they... seem: so blanched...
yet... so... those **** i want to milk...
create buter from... remotely:
some cheese...

    WENDOL...
                       mein gott... this headache
is getting worse...
i feel a hard-on is pressing me...
it's a first for me...for a girl sending me her ****...
maybe i should think about paiting?
i always liked the idea of painting clouds
of a canvas of demanding: white...

like i once mentioned:
i could see myself as a veterinarian...
and also as a BUTCHER...
but as a surgeon? no... no thank you...
she has a body on display that makes
me "think" of necrophilia...

why? she's exposing double-standards...
i like double-standards...
i also love those clearly encompassed
curvatures of: body...
and esp. via. a woman...
      and since she's Asian?
double points...
        on prior to existential "achievement"...
within this life:
death is merely a rupture
of what's to be preserved: continued...
she might not be a model...
but the fact that she sent me a picture of her
naked?!
                 i could see a thousand pictures
of naked models...
but seeing her... solo?
            i guess i have a hard-on
worth worths' of a thousand years...
            i like the idea of sand
being the improved ruminating
      cull for the description of time.

count?! count?!
beside sand, what's there implied by water?!
keki Dec 2010
a sprinkle a cold sparkle landed on the wrinkled brown textured mittens hold by a chipped damp branch that dances swiftly with the cool breeze the waves with a frosty chill in the air burning all the popping and cracking fires that brake down monster size lumber but soon come to hush and a light which brighten the glows of smile turns to hollow pit of smoky ash of smoke and becomes on with the earth.
With the light lazy moon with it creator shining ill pale texture shining among the dark mist clouds that fade to gray as shimmering white snow flakes clicking to the ground like glue and piles like minni mountains and lookin like a winter wonder land.

Second poem called frosted forest.

Glimmering slick ice thinking down pine woods leaf less the mud slick floors blend with brown snaps leaves broken like hearts of sadness for not being worthy to live in the right ful world where they born and die with every last oxygen they have till the hurricane wind seperates them and their love home and get tossed around like a rag doll and have no respect then being tossed out like garbage and left there to evaporate from the living exciting life. When the gloom less colorful trees that are painted with dazzling frosted breath water giving it a reflecting crystal out line giving the sunsets rise a glimming out line color.


Authors note:  thankyou for all the veiwes i hope you enjoy future poems i right.... I need a subject for me to write about send me a message and i'll do on for you so thankyou for taking your time to read my poems even though you like them or not...so i guess by for now
Fenix Flight Jan 2015
Wooden structure that plagues my mind
I sit and watch them tear you down
Rip up your swing set, crush your slide
It's all to much I just want to cry

You were the one my grammy took me too
My cousins And I ran around your grounds
Our laughter now haunts your gravesite

They said you were getting too old
creaking dangerously and giving kids splinters
Parents were yelling at you left and right
But I rememeber you in all your glory

You're tire swing and glimming slides
the "wave" bridge and the little cubby holes
The ones that were perfect for hide and seek games.

But now you are gone,
torn down and thrown away
Crazy colored plastic now resides
where you once stood so tall

Even though you are gone
You will never be forgotten
The joy you brought will forever be treasured
written for a writing promt from the poetry club I am in
Prompt was:A place from your past or childhood, one that you are fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial!
Isabella Apr 2010
I lie down under the shade of the tree.
There's only one tree on top of the hill.
I'm not exactly under the tree.
I'm on the side of the hill and the shawdow of the tree streches out towards me.
It's perfect with shade and warm sunlight that feels like a blanket
which seeps through the cracks of the leaves and the nice brezze.
I lay there thinking of nothing at all,
my worries were earsed from my mind.
What did I have to worry about? Worries were the reason I was here.
Slowly and slowly the atmosphere starts to take me into slumber.....

My eyes open a crack,
they start lieing to me  because  I see someone standing over me.
The sunlight is glimming on the person.
For I am still partly in the shade.
We glare at eachother hard not sure what to think.
then at random A weird warm feeling started to grow inside,
we both ease our gazes and I feel at peace again.
I've never felt this feeling before but it was the greatest....
Jaee Derbéssy Sep 2014
She was a lost soul,
but wherever
she walked,
stars,
without a single doubt,
glowed.
Leaving a trail
of demons,
her heart endarkened
by her past,
but her hope-
her hope
guarded that last
glimming little dot
of happiness.
That was her defense.
tompoet rwanda Jul 2018
"Alone in my city"

It is a silent night
I'm Standing out here on a reddish black lavander,
I'm Lonely and lights are creepy bimming,
The pleasant breeze of Gikondo
Are smelling like blossoming roses,
And i glance at the scattered
Low glimming lights of Nyamirambo,
And eye a surreal joyful avalanche.

I grab my phone and start swinging
around the front balcony,
recording my voice singing one of dualipa's songs,
My voice sounds ridiculous
and i hate it,maybe i have
to train it out In the rain.

And i'm Longing to dance like no one is watching,
Because nobody's around for me,
It makes me feel bored and anxious,
And i can't help but lock all the doors
And every familiar window,
my white short,brownish black jumper
and dark red nike sketchers are ready
i need to step out for a while,
And have an ounce wander down my city.

Hot teens of my age are here,
I'm not standoffish,i do some cares,
Beautiful girls with black hairs
and pile black eyes are wandering here,
With skinny ripped jeans
fitting their big sized hips
And my eyes can't help but stuck on
Their cleavage and woow silently,
My city is really too serene and surreal.
Jimi Johnson Feb 2020
1

Trees long and tall, stars
Glimming over lonesome hut
I won't find you there


#2

First brown leaves inside
Sun still burning hot outside
Feel ground with bare feet


#3

Bees still not in deep
Slumber - buzzing, talking to
Keep silent man from


#4

Steep forest road and
Smooth, flat, golden mountain top
Like a shaved monk's head


#5

Mountain pass, swaying
Through yellow grass, people are
Nice. Is this the place


#6

Green waterfall carves
Stone blades, underneath wise man
Drinks beer without worry


#7

Travelers lost track
Came upon graveyard - dead end
River waters mourning


#8

Squirrel slowly starts
To gather supplies for cold
No clock or calendar


#9

Stone pebbles smoothened
River that goes anywhere
In a constant flow


#10

First leaves fell into
The stream; restless water wash
Them gently, pristine



#11

Moss on waterfall’s
Edge, solid rock on bottom
No desire to change


#12


River draws crazy
Patterns on silky smooth bed
Like glittering gold

#13

Pine cones falling with
Dull thump; CHUCK; out of the trees
And into the night

#14


Sea of green mountains
Clouds swim sluggishly, hiding
Silent love of the peaks

#15


Solitude of the
Mountains, higher you climb more
Silent it becomes



#16

Green grasshopper keeps
Company to dried, yellow
Grass of mountain steep


#17

Red hands freezing cold
Sister sun obscured by clouds
Changes are coming


#18

Old man's face shorn of
Wool, race is almost run; Man
Do not weep, do you


#19

Soul alone, harsh rain
Jack Kerouac my dear friend
You would understand


#20

It's dull cold inside
Lamp's light vaguely warm, tries to
Spot leaves on the ground



#21

Scrambled eggs, coffee
Layers of pristine bedsheets
Washed in mourning dew


#22

Night walk to bathroom
Leaves shiver in autumn's cold
Spider's offspring died


#23

Beetle sits on grass
Like crouched Buddha; don't worry
I won't step on you


#24

Silent rain touches
Leaves on the porch, I am safe
My Friend moth is too


#25

Annoying fly won't
Break the music of gentle
Rain; in paradise
#26

Fox stopped on the path
Looked with radiant cool eyes
Brief stop on his road


#27

Two Buddhas sit and
Contemplate existence of
Glimming spirit, rain


#28

The room bursts with steam
Pretty Ramen waitress, I
Fell in love with you


#29

Passing your station
I always look for a pair
Of your brown eyes; nothing


#30

To return to this
City; desolation, filth
Dreams of silent peaks
Mountain doldrums is a collection of 30
Haiku poems written during solitude in green mountains.

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