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"grinding" poems
Technology, Technology It runs our lives From the alarm to the evening TV Just count your sheep in the hopes of a six hour sleep Dragging, pushing, poking and grinding All for what? A day where we swing away? Reminise and rewind our lives gone astray All our friends are easily connected So why do we feel so alone Looking for love on a computer screen We’re all ******* with the naturalist gene Nature’s monitored via tv screens With copious numbers of LCD’s, CD’s, Mp3’s to sail the seas Heaven forbid the ******** sneeze That’s technology you can’t see.
0
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
Technology
Soft melodies of the deep sea echo Moonlight dances on my pretty scales And icy bubbles whirl under my chest Through my slippery hair And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises. Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces Pressure rises as each wave surges Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills But the sidelines are shallow And stragglers float motionless Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping Her hollow eyes glow green Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins Searching for the parts that are edible Tender, Scale-less, Slippery Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day Right? Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions A handsome boy has been smiling all the while He’s caught in a fisherman’s net Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man But fisherman don't care for little mermaids With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal Sweaty fins splash and cheer The fishbowl shatters Sea glass spills out onto sand We squirm and flop onto land Gasping without air to breathe As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed. Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom Gasping and moaning into tile With the face of a handsome stranger Because this meat shouldn't go to waste And I'm drunken with desperation For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks But I'm just another fish in the sea Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.
0
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Confetti Scales
Soft melodies of the deep sea echo Moonlight dances on my pretty scales And icy bubbles whirl under my chest Through my slippery hair And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises. Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces Pressure rises as each wave surges Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills But the sidelines are shallow And stragglers float motionless Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping Her hollow eyes glow green Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins Searching for the parts that are edible Tender, Scale-less, Slippery Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day Right? Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions A handsome boy has been smiling all the while He’s caught in a fisherman’s net Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man But fisherman don't care for little mermaids With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal Sweaty fins splash and cheer The fishbowl shatters Sea glass spills out onto sand We squirm and flop onto land Gasping without air to breathe As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed. Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom Gasping and moaning into tile With the face of a handsome stranger Because this meat shouldn't go to waste And I'm drunken with desperation For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks But I'm just another fish in the sea Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.
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48
It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing. Sitting back, just relaxing. Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green. And just thinking. Daydreaming about how things could have been. How things could still be. But how things will probably be. Just close your eyes and let music be your guide. Entire lives constructed and played out in grand fashion. A world so detailed I would rather get lost, And never come back to this travesty of a society, so raw and primal. so human. My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing because it's what ours could be, but never will become. Anything to distract me from this. The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left. So where will I'll be in 5 years? I wont.
0
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
Late night rant.
The chemistry so intoxicating, Lips wet your salavitating Feeling your vibes Your as wet as wet gets Lovin every second Not a drip wasted One finger placed-in, Your breathing hasten Two fingers pacin Your waist whining like the time I'm takin grinding towards something amazin A huge explosion in a tiny place; your haven You lost in ecstasy while we share the same space Its only a matter of time before its written all over your face
0
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
Fingered
The chemistry so intoxicating, Lips wet your salavitating Feeling your vibes Your as wet as wet gets Lovin every second Not a drip wasted One finger placed-in, Your breathing hasten Two fingers pacin Your waist whining like the time I'm takin grinding towards something amazin A huge explosion in a tiny place;  your haven You lost in ecstasy while we share the same space Its only a matter of time before its written all over your face
0
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
Fingered
Isn’t physically quick or agile. Disappears in libraries. Has been known to dissolve into the physical pages of books. Is good at tucking herself into the stacks and retreating to reading nooks. Blends in at coffee shops where her voice can be drowned out by the grinding and the steaming. Can become indistinguishable in the dark of theatres, in the quiet shuffle of art galleries, the finger-snapping of poetry readings, the hum and jostle of the Tube. Is indistinct. Adept at hiding in plain sight.
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Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
Catch her if you can
He loved her and she loved him His kisses ****** out her whole past and future or tried to He had no other appetite She bit him she gnawed him she ****** She wanted him complete inside her Safe and Sure forever and ever Their little cries fluttered into the curtains Her eyes wanted nothing to get away Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows He gripped her hard so that life Should not drag her from that moment He wanted all future to cease He wanted to topple with his arms round her Or everlasting or whatever there was Her embrace was an immense press To print him into her bones His smiles were the garrets of a fairy place Where the real world would never come Her smiles were spider bites So he would lie still till she felt hungry His word were occupying armies Her laughs were an assasin's attempts His looks were bullets daggers of revenge Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets His whispers were whips and jackboots Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks And their deep cries crawled over the floors Like an animal dragging a great trap His promises were the surgeon's gag Her promises took the top off his skull She would get a brooch made of it His vows pulled out all her sinews He showed her how to make a love-knot At the back of her secret drawer Their screams stuck in the wall Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs In their dreams their brains took each other hostage In the morning they wore each other's face
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17.6k
Lovesong
He loved her and she loved him His kisses ****** out her whole past and future or tried to He had no other appetite She bit him she gnawed him she ****** She wanted him complete inside her Safe and Sure forever and ever Their little cries fluttered into the curtains Her eyes wanted nothing to get away Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows He gripped her hard so that life Should not drag her from that moment He wanted all future to cease He wanted to topple with his arms round her Or everlasting or whatever there was Her embrace was an immense press To print him into her bones His smiles were the garrets of a fairy place Where the real world would never come Her smiles were spider bites So he would lie still till she felt hungry His word were occupying armies Her laughs were an assasin's attempts His looks were bullets daggers of revenge Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets His whispers were whips and jackboots Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks And their deep cries crawled over the floors Like an animal dragging a great trap His promises were the surgeon's gag Her promises took the top off his skull She would get a brooch made of it His vows pulled out all her sinews He showed her how to make a love-knot At the back of her secret drawer Their screams stuck in the wall Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs In their dreams their brains took each other hostage In the morning they wore each other's face
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42
**** girl That *** is thick Don't play with me, girl You make me wanna lick... OOPS. Girl, did I say that out loud? It's just that that *** in them jeans Makes me want to shout Ooh, girl, bend over, show me what's that about I'm a religious man, Lord, forgive me For what I'm about to see So sweaty So pretty Her thong showed Her kitty was getting frisky If you know what I mean She was grinding me Nothing was in between She looked back and smiled She knew I wanted to **** her to the extreme.
0
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
In Her Jeans
. I’m just a lonely traveler    on this earth Sometimes it feels as if I'm waiting for the sky to fall with each passing breathe        of wind    Standing alone, a windswept tree    leans downwind; conspicuously wrought,    naked and bowed    by the grinding       silent forces   at nature's whim Rootless tumbleweeds roll by randomly:     broken off, spinning clockwise, never looking back, timeworn and tired of resisting the prevailing     high desert wind and its unheld temper Rattling the tinder    dry sagebrush like songless wind-chimes;     voiceless fugitives wreathing a bellowing silence     Jesse Stillwater
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Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC
A windswept tree
**i'm in a dangerous state of mind with no care for living this life where human emotions are traded for less than a pack of rubbers but you didn't even use those so how much did i truly mean when the push came to shove and grinding hips with moaning lips that whispered, screamed, and cried his name on the night you ****** my heart away where loyalty takes a literal backseat to pleasure and a long term relationship is laughing stock material ha ha standup, ain't i funny to look for something more than this but i would choke on my own tongue before i'd speak bad of you my backstabbing lover unfaithful friend i hope to god it he was worth it the cost was more than just tears but blood spray on the bathroom mirror and an empty place where i once used to love permanently empty i can't find the will to care more than a few half-hearted, correct that, heartless obscenities muttered under my breath with ****** on my mind a 3:30am fantasy to help dull the pain that i should be feeling maybe i'm just a pessimist, fatalist, cynical, and negative but my lack of surprise cuts the most lied to by my mind for those two months of my life that i thought i had it all better to have loved and lost but even better to **** it all and just go out with your name on my lips and your lies in my heart i hope you think of me when you're with him that you choke on your tears plagued with the worst emotions and loss a better killer than any gun**
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Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
Cheater - A Rant
When I think of feeling despair for unknown reasons I know it is time for me to create something As I think of this, words of a friend come to my mind As to how she finds comfort in cooking So I go to the refrigerator and search out ingredients To make a warm healthy dish for my family it makes me feel good after washing, cutting chopping, grinding and sauteing All the while I take in the aroma of each ingredient And finally as a whole dish spooning them for taste testing and when my nose and tongue lets me know that is A OK I find that I am feeling better Enough to wash the dishes n wipe down the counter top
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Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
Art n science of cooking
Quote#1- Seventy-five years. That's how much time you get if you're lucky. Seventy-five years. Seventy-five Winters. Seventy-five Springtimes. Seventy-five Summers. And Seventy-five Autumns. When you look at it like that, it's not a lot of time, is it? Don't waste them. Get your head out of the rat race and forget about the superficial things that pre-occupy your existence and get back to what's important now. Right Now. This very second. And I'm not saying, drop everything and let the world come to a grinding halt. I'm saying that you could become a seeker. You could be loving more. You could be taking some chances. You could be living more. You could be spending more time with your family. You could be getting in touch with the part of you that lives instead of fears; the part of you that loves instead of hates; the part of you that recognizes the humanity in all of us. And I tell you, That's where you're fortunate.. Quote #2- Your good is Better and your better is Blessed!...
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Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Holy man movie ( quotes by eddie murphy playing character named G)
Rough ,Wet, Make it hurt Sore in the morning No time to flirt No love, no whispers Not even a kiss Like animals, Mechanical Tasting this Bruises, teeth marks, hickeys, thirst ******* licking, Harder, grinding The spot, Almost Screaming, finding Spasm, tightening ****** blinding
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
Disassociated ***
Axels and chains and Feet and brains It's the bicycle beats And the trees and the streets Join the lines in the sidewalk As I ride and I talk To myself, "Breathe in," & "Breathe out," -- Burning and churning to the Grooves and the cracks Red light's the only chance to relax Racing the bus and flashing a grin To the sorry folks trapping themselves therein Ecstasy building with each revolution Wiping my sweat away, tasting pollution Grinding and winding a path on my bike Where cars and pedestrians hate me alike
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Bicycle Beats
Hidden behind my desires. Fantasies of ecstasy frustrating me. My body tempting me sensually. Sexuality turning on me, arousing my entity. My fingers betraying me, ****** my body eagerly. Probing between my legs relentlessly, consuming my whole body; selfishly. Weakening my flesh; this tantalizing energy claiming the deepest depths of my ***** Scandalous imagery, mentally ravaging me, seducing me, teasing my lips, guiding my fingertips effortlessly, long fingers dip, disappearing; deep inside of me. My ***** tightens, the feelings heighten. Warm liquids drip, stone hard **** pulling and rubbing it. Wrist twist,palm grinding against my ***** legs clasp, my insides amass giving way, As I spray, my exhausted body collapses.
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Temptress (Explicit)
Give me damage hand me the key to my misplaced love, my grinding teeth tangle your fingers in mine take what you want then leave damage my soul set me free.
0
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
Key
Uhh,..Young Ston, What up.. Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye.. /OFTR, We ****** Hustlers man & , (we handle our business, Yeah*2)..Aye we some ****** real ****** & we (handle our business*4),Our business Yeah..OFTR we ****** Hustlers man , Aye we some real niggas..Stoned young ****** , but we (handle our business4) our business..(Yeah we handle our business2).. Handle (our business*2)..,OFTR, we gangstas..we ****** hustlers man Yeah we stay high all day. ,but (we take care of business, Yeah2)..we take care of business man.. Handle (our business3)..we some ****** real ****** but (we get to business, Yeah*3)..We ****** Hustling young ****** (young real niggas2)..gangsta (thugging..real niggas3)...Yeah,OFTR, We ****** Hustlers,man..(We handle our business..3) (Yeah we handle business3) man...we (handle business,2)..our business (we handle..our business..2)(our business2)..nigga (Yeah we bout our business4)..We some ****** Hustling (Thugging..gangsta niggas3)..OFTR..(Stoned young niggas3),..but we bout our **** Yeah we ****** (Hustling Gangsta young niggas*3),We gangstas nigga..ONLY FOR THE REAL.. Aye Yeah.. (we handle our business4)..handle (our business3)..Aye we some ****** Hustlers man Aye, Yeah (We bout our business2).Yeah we (take care of business2).. We take care of (our business..*2)business..We busy We bout our business, Yeah we handle business man, We some Thugging ****** we some gangsta ****** & (we stay ****** nigga*2)..Aye, but we all on our **** man, Yeah..We ****** Hustlers ***** Yeah (we handle our business2)..(our business3)..Yeah..Uhh I wake up in the morning I gotta Thank God, & I gotta get (back to ryhming, back to grinding*2),back to taking care of business..my business nigga,Aye, they say stick to what you do best & stick to what you know man..& stay true to yourself, don't let these devils confuse you & mislead you to the wrong path my ***** Aye, hard work doesn't go unnoticed & that's real talk, this is real game from a younging, don't be scared to learn something from me, don't be a fool man, I know they don't know too much about me, The Young ****** Disciple, but I'm one of the realest rappers that's still alive tho dude, Fo sho,I'm the best rapper in Atlanta OFTR, we our own league dawg..& I'm the commissioner, we will never fall, we stand tall, & We forever gone ball, stay strong, & keep grinding.., Yeah, we take care of business.. Yeah..We bout our business.. /We ****** Hustlers, ****** (young niggas,2) that (handle our business,2..)(our business2)..Yeah we take care (of business3), Yeah/*2 Aye we getting to business..man , I'm making these hoes famous just for one night my nig,I'm macking on these hoes,like the 70s, then I'm (back to business2) man..I handle (my business2),yeah, my ***** I'm too much , too handle, I'm too much to control,Young Ston nigga..(too much*2).. Man I got the full control of my music..I got the control now Kendrick,..Uhh,I'm proving all of them ***** *** critics so wrong now man..They made a big mistake dobuting on a young ***** a ****** Hustling Thuggin Gangsta,ayo The system created a monster that's about to go off like Godzilla on my city dawg, I'm causing alot of chaos my nigga,no regrets Fo show dude ..Ohhwoah..Uhh. Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye..OFTR We ****** Hustlers.. ONLY FOR THE REAL mufucker Yeah..
0
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Ston Poet - ****** Hustlers
Uhh,..Young Ston, What up.. Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye.. /OFTR, We ****** Hustlers man & , (we handle our business, Yeah*2)..Aye we some ****** real ****** & we (handle our business*4),Our business Yeah..OFTR we ****** Hustlers man , Aye we some real niggas..Stoned young ****** , but we (handle our business4) our business..(Yeah we handle our business2).. Handle (our business*2)..,OFTR, we gangstas..we ****** hustlers man Yeah we stay high all day. ,but (we take care of business, Yeah2)..we take care of business man.. Handle (our business3)..we some ****** real ****** but (we get to business, Yeah*3)..We ****** Hustling young ****** (young real niggas2)..gangsta (thugging..real niggas3)...Yeah,OFTR, We ****** Hustlers,man..(We handle our business..3) (Yeah we handle business3) man...we (handle business,2)..our business (we handle..our business..2)(our business2)..nigga (Yeah we bout our business4)..We some ****** Hustling (Thugging..gangsta niggas3)..OFTR..(Stoned young niggas3),..but we bout our **** Yeah we ****** (Hustling Gangsta young niggas*3),We gangstas nigga..ONLY FOR THE REAL.. Aye Yeah.. (we handle our business4)..handle (our business3)..Aye we some ****** Hustlers man Aye, Yeah (We bout our business2).Yeah we (take care of business2).. We take care of (our business..*2)business..We busy We bout our business, Yeah we handle business man, We some Thugging ****** we some gangsta ****** & (we stay ****** nigga*2)..Aye, but we all on our **** man, Yeah..We ****** Hustlers ***** Yeah (we handle our business2)..(our business3)..Yeah..Uhh I wake up in the morning I gotta Thank God, & I gotta get (back to ryhming, back to grinding*2),back to taking care of business..my business nigga,Aye, they say stick to what you do best & stick to what you know man..& stay true to yourself, don't let these devils confuse you & mislead you to the wrong path my ***** Aye, hard work doesn't go unnoticed & that's real talk, this is real game from a younging, don't be scared to learn something from me, don't be a fool man, I know they don't know too much about me, The Young ****** Disciple, but I'm one of the realest rappers that's still alive tho dude, Fo sho,I'm the best rapper in Atlanta OFTR, we our own league dawg..& I'm the commissioner, we will never fall, we stand tall, & We forever gone ball, stay strong, & keep grinding.., Yeah, we take care of business.. Yeah..We bout our business.. /We ****** Hustlers, ****** (young niggas,2) that (handle our business,2..)(our business2)..Yeah we take care (of business3), Yeah/*2 Aye we getting to business..man , I'm making these hoes famous just for one night my nig,I'm macking on these hoes,like the 70s, then I'm (back to business2) man..I handle (my business2),yeah, my ***** I'm too much , too handle, I'm too much to control,Young Ston nigga..(too much*2).. Man I got the full control of my music..I got the control now Kendrick,..Uhh,I'm proving all of them ***** *** critics so wrong now man..They made a big mistake dobuting on a young ***** a ****** Hustling Thuggin Gangsta,ayo The system created a monster that's about to go off like Godzilla on my city dawg, I'm causing alot of chaos my nigga,no regrets Fo show dude ..Ohhwoah..Uhh. Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye..OFTR We ****** Hustlers.. ONLY FOR THE REAL mufucker Yeah..
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17
The human soul was threshed out like maize in the endless granary of defeated actions, of mean things that happened, to the very edge of endurance, and beyond, and not only death, but many deaths, came to each one: each day a tiny death, dust, worm, a light flicked off in the mud at the city's edge, a tiny death with coarse wings pierced into each man like a short lance and the man was besieged by the bread or by the knife, the cattle-dealer: the child of sea-harbours, or the dark captain of the plough, or the rag-picker of snarled streets: everybody lost heart, anxiously waiting for death, the short death of every day: and the grinding bad luck of every day was like a black cup that they drank, with their hands shaking.
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10k
The Heights of Macchu Picchu, III
The shadows against your skin, the light that hits your breast,  perfection in your curves my lips softly touch your chest.  Slowly kissing towards your neck, your hips pressed hard against my own. I trace your neck with my tongue and you beg me to go down. Nothing left on your body but your thong red as sin. I slowly pull them off, my lips follow down your skin. Hands grasping on your hips, teasing your inner thigh. Soft bites followed by kisses, I move closer, close your eyes... Legs resting on my shoulders, my hands all over your silhouette Your nails dig into my skin, my tongue has you dripping wet. Sucking softly on your **** nibbling on your lower lips. Licking from the bottom, going up, as you tighten up your hips. I feel every muscle tighten while my fingers are inside. A sigh of extesy when you *** the first time. I move up towards your breast as I bite and nibble on the tit. I pin your hands down, hips grinding, with my **** on your clit. Teasing you with the head, gliding it in nice and slow. Your back arches, I push harder, I love hearing you moan. You smile and bite your lower lip trying not to scream, Leaving marks down my back, take reality from a dream.
0
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Sinful Seduction
What's is *** The grinding of two opposite *** Or two people who are madly in love with each other.. And want to show there affection in many different ways.
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Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
***
raw ******* thumbs drawing open the canvas of cavities hot stink, tangles of pink wrinkles, ground turkey and beef pulse of the earth in the groan of the springs as the sequence of spirits inhabits a lopsided carpet of blood, cardiovascular, creation, crawling pineapple sweat, ******* neck licking saliva stains, flesh slapping, teeth jousting, chins grinding explosions, eruptions, screaming, biting, clutching the rim, apocalypse, APOCALYPSE, the guilty apocalypse
0
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
normal ***
My mind is playing tricks flipping into reverse, all is static, I'm frantically sadistic. I'm on the grind, shit's grinding my gears, you say my name like it's sounds I made up even in our sheets we're ****** up. The rat race isn't a race, but a triathlon we aren't athletes, we're just dragging our feet along, no ping to life's pong, this is a poem 'cause I can't write songs.
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
The Blue Sky Makes Me Sad
Lone leatherback cruises up from the deep, pausing on the fragile reef to feast ancient eyes upon the show, a bright parade laid out below butterfly couples paired for life, graceful angels in black and white stripe brilliant clowns and their toxic lovers, a plodding gang of giant groupers puffers bob like comic balloons, humble gobies on every menu beaked parrotfish grinding the coral down, in the ears a constant sound cowfish blowing puckered kisses, sea stars catching fishy wishes white-tipped, hammerhead, tiger sharks, triggerfish mean bite worse than their bark untamed unicorns too wild to ride, dogfish snapping, biting alongside coral trout color-shifting fools, attracting ladies in dull-hued schools **** headed wrasse rumbling through, thick lips mumbling go get a room sea horses nod in labyrinth caves, razor-toothed eels lying in wait if tentacled embrace should be your fate, nudibranchs will light the way to a place of bliss, none of this can exist, without the builders coral and algae bewildered, the ways of man egotistical rising ocean temperatures, carbon emissions, and el Niño victim of abundant greed, say goodbye to the Great Barrier Reef so massive is this magical place, one can see it from outer space astronauts witness its demise, ninety-percent barren, bleached bone white.
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Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
Reef
The nakedness of winter lies heavy upon the tolling Sunday quietude Shed  leaves perish into yesterday and the dream of another dawning  someday wanes The  sun ― lay low the drudging  ashen  skyline   Barerd emerald moss scaffolds draw much more distantness to the pallid shadowed horizon The evergreens step forth, roots grasping sacred heart, soil  and  rock In the swelling aloneness you can feel the grain of  the  heartwood rooted in your soul There are no hard feelings but there's an enduring ache, like a tree with a rotting limb languishing  within its blackened bark sacrifice It's not just the grinding time that slips away begrudgingly; more of the same takes a toll  as if another unrung belfry hour in an empty bell tower without a song rang out in vain, peeling  reflections of reluctant hours  c r a w l  by in the insensible apathy A so called holiday passes ― its footprint bears down hard  and  deep as if a paling winter rose grieves its own passing A dry wishbone unbroken lay bare the poignant truth  it  holds; it takes two to make this wish come true .
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Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Dried Wishbone in an Empty Bell Tower ...
first I smell myself. the deep bass tonality of my musk, hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy, my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing, under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings then I smell herself. sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait, scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned, some flavors come over me like modest waves, others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves, where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure then I smell our sharings. lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper, a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed, the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts, decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula, word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh then I smell our combinations. the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled, the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins, the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt, appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us, our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity, at its most pungent peaking, for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water and the sophistry of French soap, the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo, together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry, your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more, for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of only love poetry that crested high above the trite Friday, March 29 2019
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
The Aroma of Us
first I smell myself. the deep bass tonality of my musk, hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy, my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing, under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings then I smell herself. sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait, scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned, some flavors come over me like modest waves, others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves, where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure then I smell our sharings. lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper, a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed, the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts, decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula, word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh then I smell our combinations. the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled, the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins, the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt, appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us, our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity, at its most pungent peaking, for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water and the sophistry of French soap, the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo, together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry, your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more, for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of only love poetry that crested high above the trite Friday, March 29 2019
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