"gratifications" poems
*she said
being a feminist
i have forsaken the temples of normalcy
for dark gratifications and base seduction
and discovered that those who know the pleasures
of objectification
and frenzied ****** lucidity with strangers
are wiser then the children of sweetness and light
as marriage betrays the need to satisfy
secret dark labyrinths desire
and in its place
repeats ad nauseum
blunt fortitudes
in dim sunless rooms
for fear of the transgressive
satans *** nail
is conventions essential creed
exhaustions hand maid
rendered imagine-less
bereft of the new
until a mere stand in
for true desire is left
like a starved ghost
on a dead moon
a desiccated morsel
left for a hungry mouse
is romantic marriage a poetic conception
by love starved victorian imbeciles
vanquished in increments
by petty spats of blood and thunder
who know not the joys of the whips blood toothed kisses
purgation's brutal sensuality
and a creel
of ramming butter **** gang bangs
in secret fetish gardens
of cries and coos
that leave the *** wilted
and the soul lite
like a butterfly in heaven
slave girl asks
as hips sway
to sacred dionysian storms
in the smoldering pangs
of the heart
as backs writhe and arch
flex and sweat rhapsodic
and viscera panic with desire
are not such delicious degradations
pleasures ravage despicable
cause for an ecstatic celebration
kindling
fiery vapors incense
en-flamed dragons blood
for drooling kisses
that talk in tongues
in a language that everyone understands
infinitly preferred
over the rolling eyes of disapproval
in the tepid marriage bed*
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
You stripped my soul,
Ripped me from my shoes
Where I stood
in innocence.
You extracted my childlike traits,
Treated my body
As your ********* paycheck.
My whole future
Was laid out in front me.
Now you fabricated a dent in it,
One that has shattered me
Forever.
I used to smile,
Be full of life,
Slept at night,
My body never reeked the incessant scent
of the lifeless souls you sold me to.
My heart ached everyday,
I longed for home, where safety was waiting for me.
Everyday I was a raindrop,
Trying to cling onto the window of hope,
But always slipped away.
You don’t understand the pain,
You’re only in it for the hunnits
Please understand,
That my dehumanization is not worthy
For what you gain.
My body became an abstract canvas,
For your ugly pleasures.
Bruised, bloodied, beaten, and battered.
Cuts and aches line my delicate skin,
But to you all my pain is fake.
You slapped my delicate face,
every time I asked for my precious prize of my childhood,
every time clear oceans surged out of my eyes.
“Shut the hell up!” You yelled
As I let out wails of agony.
You stepped all over me
Like I was a used cigarette.
You ignored my shrieking screams,
Actually,
You loved it.
You forced me
To comply with their beastly gratifications,
Only in return for your abundant riches.
You stepped on me,
like I was a ***** grimy, muddy puddle,
over and over
Even so,
I was still considered desirable.
I am NOT your canvas.
I am NOT your paycheck.
I am NOT your plaything.
I am worthy of honor,
worthy of respectful awe and delicacy.
I did not feel the worth of a human being anymore.
I felt ill treated, broken, bent, demeaned.
You stripped my soul, and,
Deprived me of my self respect.
And I will never
Ever
Be the same.
The only thought
That seeps into my mind
At sunrise and the brink of midnight,
Is that
I
Was someone’s *****
Listen to the pleas of
Children,
their ribbons shriveling up.
Spouses,
their vows rupturing.
Siblings,
their hearts torn apart.
Parents,
Bawling for their sanities,
Waiting to rejoice
With their miraculous bundles of joy—
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
~ one more for patty m. ~
slept late after dancing with my devils, from,
from the wee, until a pealing pearl from the Earl of Dawn,
recovering from an intrusion~invasion~brain~regurgitation,
and it’s nearly 9am, sipping my first cuppa Hawaiian,
& woke to a repost of a ten year old wondering plea(1)
makes me think “This old thing,” poem, like a fav
frock/suit that still drapes perfectly, and yet draws the
***** admiration and drippy drawling yummy compliments,
gracefully, gratefully demurred with them three words,
& it’s 8:39am, Bruce pitching in with “Born in the USA”
recipe for a new thank u Gawd poem to make room for
a fast~break diet for an old man with a rebuilt ticker, this
very emission~transmission of a verbal politesse writ going
some where, cooked on a medium slow burner fueling dressed up seeds of heartfelt appreciation made of ancient oat grasses
birthing a poem~child of thanks to the Lawd for one more day,
opportunity, the five sense’s delivery gratitude and gratifications, and the desire to intertwine the sights, music, a crisp blue November Sky, the need to bleed brew these words into a fulfilling,
second moment mug, for the pearls and Earls
of poetic humans
10:01am
Thu Nov 2 2023
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 10:16 AM UTC
obviously to think and enjoy it
you have to turn your mind
into a mollusc in an oyster shell,
slow... slow... (yawn)... slower...
then you suddenly get electrocuted!
boom! now you're thinking,
you're not as tense as a running
cheetah, hard rock heart muscle,
not too eager on karaoke of karate,
you're the tortoise outrunning
achilles; because the brain enables
such functioning, it's not exactly
an eager heart in the university of
the body - and why is it that domestic
life has completely succumbed to
the gratifications of chemistry with
toothpaste and bleach and other
cleaning materials; i wouldn't
be against doping athletes, i'd tell them
to embrace it... let's synthesise another
world record sprint in the olympics,
because an analysis would mean
talking about 9.58 / 9.51...
and that would be as interesting as looking
at the rosetta stone for clarification
of ancient egyptian: owl, big fish, little fish
carbohydrates boxed;
and still a flea could outrun you,
a flea, yeah, never mind the cheetah.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
And I wander why I'm here
And your there and there's nowhere inbetween for us to go
And why if there was
You couldn't take me anyway.
Wind mills in our skulls
So fast we can't get a grasp on.
Pretty pills
As we stare out
Of barred windowsills
You tell me you don't understand,
as you hold my hand and demand to know why.
And I sit and cry and tell you I wish you could, I wish you understood
But how can I expect you too
When I have no clue?
Cos your mind isn't fractured
Into hundreds of unrecognisable pieces
Creases
That they try to iron out
And glue together with
Sedatives and weight gain
And cognitive behavioural therapy
That they insist will numb the pain
&fix; the problem.
But i don't know the problem
Because I've skipped in and out of diagnoses ever since i was
Placed into this space
A taste of hell and heaven all at the same time
Where it's okay not to be okay
But it's not okay to be okay
And you get named and blamed and excused and used as examples
For nurses to observe
You're a learning curve
In their degree. Or for a student studying psychology
And no matter what anyone says
It doesn't curb the reality
That you are sick.
Too sick to take care of yourself
To keep safe your health
Your body, your mind
To hold yourself
Together,
An it's strange because
They try to rearrange
All our thoughts and processes
But they don't undress the primary cause
They caress plaus-able reasons
Excluding your explanations
Satisfied with their own gratifications.
2013 ©
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
Walking Down the memory lane isn't always a good thing. I hope we all know that not everything good in the eye is actually Good. So is taking a stroll on memory lane is somewhat not healthy. What I'm about to do will somewhat heals each wounds and allow us to Forge forward. For every new friends I might have acquired this year might not know this but every year, I write a short essay on Christmas and give Hope for the year rolling in. How many of us have gone through the worst in 2013? If we are been asked to count, can we ( -_-) ? How many of us have gone through the best in 2013? If we choose we can write them out. Anyone who's misfortunes supersedes his or her Blessings or Gratifications, must sit back and work thrice so everything might be put in Perspective in 2014. One of the things I've learned last year is that; in life if we want something, one goes after it with prayers and supplications. If one never ask, the answer will always be No; and if one do not step forward from their comfort zone, one will always be in same place. I dare us to leave our comfort zone and acquire Faith and Strength. Christmas isn't all about gifts like Ralph Waldo Emmerson says, " Rings & Jewels are not gifts but apologies for gifts..the only gift is a portion of thyself", so I dare us to acquire Selflessness and give our whole to Christ. Life is made up of little things, this new year, 2014, lets start from the littlest things, pray, endure, keep God's word, forgive, have open arms, be patience and God will direct and put things in order. This way our Gratifications will weigh more than our misfortunes. I raise my glass, we've made it again! I wish us all a happy New month and Year...
Opemipo Oluwole aka Debola Oluyomi
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
Blessed are the hearts,
that are pure, sweet, and naive
Who guard their innocence through hurdles of life
Not letting it be tainted,
Polluted,
Corrupted,
By manipulations and greed...
Blessed are the hearts
Whose sole indulgence are the joy of others,
Along, with, not alone
Withstand, not with temptations...
And yet curses,...
Cursed, or rather, condemned,
Condemed are those,...
Whose hearts are full of filths and self gratifications,
Who are ignorant on the sufferings of others,
In the name of "I'm jealous",
Of comfort, of ambitions,
Spitting nothing but contempt,
Showing different sides of one coin,
yet alone,
on one's face...
Them...
Shame...
For they would never know the beauty inside out,... nor peace,
nor true happiness...
Is it what you want little heart?...
Jan 15, 2024
Jan 15, 2024 at 3:15 PM UTC
Spirit is a unified field
infinite
in a state of perpetual expansion
seamless bliss
beyond the slings and arrows of creations drama
pain and pleasure
disappointment and gratifications
we live
in the
zim zum
A cauldron
hollowed out
of the the self effulgent light
the source
formless
the theater of creation
a dark space of dynamic geometry
of fractious binary forces
a merciless churn
an atrocity for the evolution of individuation
pistons in motion
a cacophonous feng shui
a tangle of webs
a grand illusion
of energetics
kamikaze planets
hideous cruelties and voluptuous pleasures
a swarm of form
hydras in heat
countless lights casting inestimable shadows
a war between heaven
absolute order
and hell
absolute chaos
our lives
a medium
for the gods of struggle
until our heads a stone
the exit door
is pure spirit
spiritus...breath
breathing made conscious
the big hush
the royal yoga
waiting for the guileless
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
Step into the cobbled courtyard where highwaymen roar with drunken debauchery, and rotten vegetables pelt the bare buttocks of ancient harlots who are shackled to the stocks of occult accusation.
Forbidden encounters are a certain mischief in the rafters of aristocracy, where disgust and desire mingle in unspoken dialogues and roll within the stench of damp hay.
I am captivated by the vanity of those carnal gratifications where Black Death casts her treacherous shadow across European boundaries.
Our markets are organised by macabre executioners in the finest of linen, who shout joyous proclamations, whilst the wise are aggressively coerced by vile salesmanship.
Please, open the gates to the city wall.
My desire is to listen to the wind, as she whispers reassurance amidst the haunted woodlands where those who are superstitious and faint-hearted fear to tread.
There is no taxation in the wilderness.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
Old-Self :D
By: Travis R. K. Sanders
Part 1
Ok so most of you think you know who I am and what I am about because you may hang out or communicate with me on a day to day basis but you don’t know anything. Fiend and slave to my body. How the urges are so powerful and how everything else quickly becomes irrelevant. Almost like living a double life but this is who I am and there is no escape. Sleeping with the enemy of the enemies. Uncontrollable and over-powering this ****** desire can be. Finish with one maybe two then moving on to two or three more. What kind of life is this for the beautiful and brilliant mind of such a insecure and vulnerable Virgo? Maybe it has to do with not having a father and I need comfort? Maybe I am over sexed and need it all the time or maybe I am looking for that someone to call my own? I don’t know what it is but it is filthy, ***** and disgusting that I give myself to so many others and have a hard time turning down those who wish to give themselves to me. Is it the lifestyle I live? Being a homosexual man. Surely not all homosexuals are overtly ****** and are in need of some type of ****** gratifications 24/7. Is it nature and has nothing to do with being homosexual but male? Maybe so but I can only imagine and pray that the day that I wake up diseased and infectious never comes. In need of a reality check and soul saving. This nail biting life is not for the faint hearted which I thought once beat with inside of me. Too many men to count but I know the exact number I think but I am no longer sure because that part of me will not open up completely. Yet I want to give it my all and let you in on why I am ashamed to approach those I find attractive not just physically but in mind and soul as well. Instead I lie myself to bed with someone I do not know. Strangers are easy to sleep with, oh my god did I just say that? But I know it is true because I have done it on numerous and multiple occasions. I need help I need it bad, this life I live is so sad. But yet through the weeks the months the years I develop a true heart beat and not the beat of pleasure and I realize finally that this was my old-self.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
.
*1
Paired truths' paradox
Instant gratifications
Dissatisfactions
2
Black and white suits drone
Crushing joys in stale board rooms
Wishing for lunchtime
3
Only prints can touch
Rejection up on the screens
Instant messages
4
At water cooler
Smiles are leaving as they begin
Punch clock is waiting
5
New lovers are blind
Eyes on mobile devices
Hands in empty laps
6
Paper copies voids
Work a day world is shuffled
Even carpets smudged
7
Message coming in
Break away from actuality
Machine is turnoff
8
Monitoring tables
New job for prince or princess
Thrown cushy with wheels
9
Economy rules
Each worker replaceable
Sociopaths king
10
Drones chirp in dreamworld
Beyond corporate glass room
Birds singing outside*
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
Day number seven:
Still looking for
Easy gratifications;
These words came to mind
Spontaneously;
I wrote them down.
Am I to elaborate
On what I am yet to know?
Mar 21, 2022
Mar 21, 2022 at 9:50 PM UTC
Love has come and gone as the years just keep
on flying by, but this last one hurt so bad that
I just wanted to die, at least until I found out
that it was all just a series of thoughtless lies.
I've been through so many loves that I guess this
one was just a bad penny. So full of promises
and hope and I believed her like some stupid
dope and in the end it became nothing but
a bad joke.
How foolish of me to ever think something
of substance was behind that beautiful wink
and those pretty words and that delicate
touch that flooded my mind with false bliss.
She lives day to day in an endless search
for her own personal gratifications, only
living to gain and only gaining for herself.
I wrote so many pretty words to catch her eye,
but she doesn't read me and never even tried,
leaving me to wonder why.
I have spoken my truths and lived her lies and
spoke of loves power to overcome pain but the
fact of the matter is only pain still remains.
Love is a game, perhaps the hardest game
around because there are no rules, but I will
win the next game and you can bet that I
won't play the same way that I did this last
one that was filled with shame.
Jon York 2011
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 11:41 PM UTC
Chocolate luscious lips
spreading opening
like a blooming flower,
Honey dew kisses trinkling down
while you drink
from my over flowing cup of lust.
Meaningful quips.
Said so softly, caressing whispers as
I whimper while softly
crying out your name,
Lustful stares,
while you extracted
a scream from my lips,
holding
my gaze all the while you've
probe my delicate rose bud.
Stockinged thighs and garter belts dance
to my ankles like swinging vines.
Hands on knees and up my legs,
opening me.
Licking, Kissing, *******
We breathe rapidly.
Once again legs begin to part,
as quickening hearts beat faster and faster.
Music to my soul,
you breathlessly
call out my name,
Silken fingers touch,
unfolding petaled tulips,
Soft succulent kisses
traces up and down bodies,
the emotional ramification's,
left me speechless
while you profess your need for me ,
your love for me.
going insane,
grinding *****
pumping groins.
"0oo-oh-ooo"
Screams aloud, muscles strain...
Proudly legs wrap around waist.
Soulful moans rant
the night as bodies collide,
crashing towards ecstasy
the seed is sown.
Passions met.
Heated to a cooling sweat.
Slowing the earth
is turning right again.
I can hear our hearts beating.
tangled feet's still dance together,
legs mingled in sheets.
Blankets scatter all over the
bed.
Spilling on to to floor.
Warm and cozy,
hazy feeling and a bit love sick too
like in a lazy dream.
Out of steam and out of breathe,
panting and trying to stand.
My legs give way and buck from underneath,
smiling eyes stare back at me .
Someone wake me from this dream.
Of
****** Gratifications!♥♥♥♥
Always Me Ayeshah
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 6:48 AM UTC
“ROCK THE VOTE”
It’s time to vote for the Board Of Directors
As a Shareholder and Cooperator, we control too whom we vote in
This is our time for a new Rochdale tomorrow to begin
Rochdale’s yesterday was years of days end
A new vision in Rochdale being the high rise
The multitudes has always been wise
A Rochdale that will be vibrate
We as Cooperators as the lanterns that make Rochdale shine
We are the thoughts with understanding combined
We are the many pens with the ink that makes Rochdale complete
Our knowledge being like no other
We are a community comprised of one another
We are the strength that comes with unity
Vote wisely in who you think is capable in being fair
But there comes a beware, we need an election that won’t be false
We need the true solitude that won’t go flat leading to fortitude
Yet this should also include
Responsibility in one’s action
Dedication in one’s movement
Sound accomplishment in one’s efforts
Personal agenda’s being no way
Accountability we should all say
Your rights guided by the law
Remember Dr. Martin Luther King in the vision he saw
The laws are what stand for all
We are the vote in the call
Ask plenty of questions, but just don’t stall
Vote with your true heart and not gratifications you expect
Remember, it is about elect
There is where we select
Yet from my Accounting Professor motto, “Respect but also suspect”
A vote that doesn’t go we will be in the same continued flow
We are in the know
Let’s vote and prove to the Board Of Directors that we are the show
The multitudes that won’t let go
Proven me with the assurance of us
“GET OUT AND VOTE BEING A MUST”.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the arts.
Caramel coffee is for trolls,
calamities are uninvested conversations.
Your selective ignorance
are their political polls;
cocoa conundrums; coagulating
serotonin serums inhibiting innovations.
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the love;
you turtle dove.
Historical happy hours,
rhetorical- the ring on her finger
indigo indiscretions linger
bloom a bouquet of flowers.
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the respect.
Ignore Tesla, the moon;
******* by his diamonds,
instant gratifications- new world addictions.
Hats off at my table!
Shake hands, shake social frictions.
I pump my brakes again, and
I've lost invitations;
my blinded observations.
Soulless shoes sully love,
subtle self proclamations.
Societies vicarious vices,
subliminal author's themes;
my presumption suffices.
Johnny's mother screams!
I've got the shakes again, and
I've lost my mind again;
dubious is an art of repetition.
In this war of attrition,
monkey business is the real oppression;
***** color schemes
deter my nightlife's daydreams.
Premeditations- self induced depression.
First amend, then reprieve
a society in genocide,
murderous screaming thieves.
I've got the shakes again, and
he's lost his midnight train of thought;
his ****** obsessions.
Espresso and ****** expressions,
prerogatives- propaganda bought;
the bad vibrations.
Battling a vertigo,
temptation i fought.
Dancing amongst the constellations;
these must be his
coffee drunken genius inspirations.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
The pale walls of your existence haunt your every day.
Your anger consumes your lonely soul, single-minded in your rage.
Self-absorbed and selfish, never truly understanding the meaning or your sad life.
So full of promises and hope...
Foolish of me to ever think something could lay behind that beautiful exterior.
So much love is given to you, all in vane, for you could never possibly understand the meaning of it all.
Your pretty words and delicate touch flooded my mind with false bliss.
Now that your façade has fallen, what am I left to hold on to?
Misplaced anger and hatred. That is all.
Do I truly wish to spend my days living in such a manor?
Is my love strong enough to endure such unneeded anguish?
I am scared. For I love you so much.
You, just another lost soul in a sea full of them.
Living day to day life in an endless search for your own personal gratifications.
Only giving to gain, only gaining for yourself.
I long for the day that you are able to see past your own vain ideals.
But, alas, that day may never come.
I've tried to see past all of this, for the sake of love.
But, once again, I am the fool.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 6:08 PM UTC
*1
Paired truths' paradox
Instant gratifications
Dissatisfactions*
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
Stop for just a second and form this thought.
something that you might not contemplate a lot.
If you where to die today, what would you have to say?
would you be in dismay? maybe prey? Or articulate a thought to convey?
To many let there dreams slip away, and are lead astray as there goals slowly decay.
for lack of instant gratifications deters they're determination
and by my calculation this is a deadly combination.
if you seek success you must not stifle progress.
as slow as it may be, eventually results you shall see.
for most the thought to give in, outweigh ones hunger to win.
motivation truly begins, when you look deep within.
now what do you do with your days, what have you done improve
what excuses have you made that leave your goals unpursued.
with no idea of your possible fate, and not a taste of the greatness that awaits.
now what would you have to say if you were to die today, die today.
how you let you dreams slip away?
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
Sitting here
in meditation.
wondering about
my own identification.
Dreaming about
my summer vacation.
Reminiscing about
a past infatuation.
Do we need
outer space exploration.
We thank the Armed Forces
for their dedication.
And seem to forget
the needy in desperation.
We need to help our own
show some dedication.
Or at least help them
change their life situation.
I know you can see
their frustration.
As billions go
to other nations.
Bet yet we forget our own
As I sit here
and continue in meditation.
I take myself
to a higher elevation.
But that's
your interpretation.
Only from
your observation.
As our children are suffering
from starvation.
There shouldn't be
any complication.
And yet so
many denominations.
we shouldn't put
any limitations.
from a country of
so much innovation.
But why does our government
seek world **********
But yet they forget their own
We only see
their chosen presentations.
They show us only
certain altercations.
Then media thrives
on all the accusations.
Why all we read about
is their incarcerations.
Which cause
hate and assassinations.
From all there exaggerations.
Which causes
uncivilized demonstrations.
All the breakdown
in communications.
And the medias
absurd manipulations.
That tries to keep divided
our great civilization.
But when it really matters
there is great hesitation.
But yet we forget our own
In the book it says
lead us not into temptation.
But they create
such a fascination.
And push
our very own expectations.
With there
sneaky modifications.
Of certain
well know corporations.
And provide
certain gratifications.
Without everyone's
consideration.
Or passing
the right legislation.
We our their
experimentation.
But yet get no
appreciation.
Which goes back
many generations.
But yet we forget our own
We have forgotten
our own foundation
That love
is what made creation.
And its disappeared
from our population.
All we see is
hate and annihilation.
But they don't show us
the right information.
The kind with
pure human consideration.
The kind
which causes admiration.
With out the feeling
of obligation.
Its time to begin
a new celebration.
And stop
all the hate and separation.
And show all love
with true aspirations.
LIVE
LOVE
HOPE
BUT NEVER FORGET OUT OWN.
Written By Richard B Shick
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
Thanks, appreciations!
I plea to thank you?
(We're unpleased)
Gratifications!
Certainly welcomed!
Feb 2, 2020
Feb 2, 2020 at 6:36 PM UTC
Four score young poets meet
in a metropolitan city.
So many living
in one century
no one country has !
Times have changed !
So has
their number and
their tete- a - tete !
Years ago:
What were they writing ?
What was being written ?
A comment, a lament , a complaint !
Some excitement !
But now :
A mere meaningless conversation !
Jobs and jubilations !
Grants and gratifications !
Influences and references !
Honours and honorarium !
But
no talk of poetry !
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 8:33 AM UTC
To you , dear God;
I put down my humble thanks:
My pen drained of pain of laughter-
I have been laughing
since you told me my greatness
is engraved on my forehead
greater it is than this gratifications.
I strive so hard to thrive,
sometimes cut short to breath
Perhaps , I don't deserve to breath
Pain as be my acquaintances-
Do they count many are my acquaintances
as a spirit dreadfully live:
They write be my right to grow,
they been my light wholly night
leading to the new-old age of sight:
be me their right to their holy greatness,
Their site of growth, look;
Broth of heal,
Broth of cook,
Heaven in hell.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 4:14 AM UTC