Minutes and hours flew by
yet none of us hang up the phone
Conversations and silence filled in
but none of us decide to sleep
Some nights I can't recall
whether or not it's real
Sometimes I wish it didn't
—most of the time I wish it did
how can you be so comfortable
with my body, with my heart
see me soft, my love like a river
lazily winding its way along
veins, pulse picks up at the idea
of love not spoken but felt, in
tangling of legs & tongues but
my tongue tangles when i try
to speak my love properly, and
misspoken affection is a curse.
You smell like love
The scent of arousal with a hint of lust
Desire of an unknown perfume
You taste like ***
A taste that will last forever
The flavor fresh when my face slipped inbetween your legs
You felt so wet but was as sweet as honey
My hand feeling every inch of your body
Fingered inbetween your virginity
You sound like heaven
Your whining intoxicating like poison
Your voice seductive as it gets
You felt swift as you showed me the woman in you
Riding your hips gliding without hesitation
You felt innocent and naive as I guided your hips
You loved the taste of me thrusting into you
Crying out my name your face filled with pleasure and lust
You love the flavor of me going further than before
You drowned in my attention relished it
Hungered for it you were lit up by my infatuation
You felt a hot spark and electric energy that sent tingles to the very center of you
You just made love my dear
Kindly avoid going to any hill station,
While planning so, bear some hesitation.
You are so very hot,
But the hills are not.
What if you go there when,
All that area starts boiling then.
My HP Poem #1745
lady in red
in my head
in a book I read,
that men are misled:
beauty kills us dead.”
get out of my head!
“To where shall we head?”
“my creaky twin
or a hotel bed?”
our minds are led
by hurried legs
as her lips, red,
push me to the bed
tinged with dread
Rapped version: https://vimeo.com/286097673
(password is "stand").
you write as if all the letters
in the alphabet are scribbled in your mind,
and all the words are memorized.
you tattooed poetry in all the parts
of your body, and you help me to
let my insides be one of them.
poetry is stained in you,
but the blood of hesitation
in doing what you want remains
been a while... something from 2017
Will I be treated
like an ornament to royalty,
or a sacrifice to your body?
A very new piece, if anything just written on a whim.
The artist must become a whole
Completely obsessed with their art
Obsessed with who they are
Truly, who they are
Infatuated about how they create
The art that makes them be,
What it makes them live for
From how they take their coffee
To every moment of a good ****
Reading in peace at dawn,
Picking fruit from a grocery store
The truest of artists are always lost
Lost in their own mind
Unconcerned with the lashing of
Society's moral tongue
Pushing themselves out to sea
Creating only to be alive from within
Where it all counts,
And it all has some value
With every step she took there was a little hesitation,
Since self-doubt and second guessing were at the base of her foundation.
Her eyes didn't wander in fear of who'd she meet,
So her gaze fixed upon the cracks in the concrete.
But would the world ever see her potential on display,
With her voice barely a whisper and her opinions locked away?
oh, the damage to be done to this soul
should the smile be evasive
why so unwilling to risk
if the smile not be immediate and sure
and without doubt
i have lost so many
i am unwise in the ways of love
convinced that the connection i feel
is a false sign
that you are just being kind
to a lonely soul
what can i do when i fear my words will push you away
rather than pull you in
short of a whispered 'i love you' from your lips
i remain as lost as a glance in the dark
there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
overwhelms unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge
A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
of another world's
Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
The naked truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind
An emotionally enslaved heart
tarries, marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
lain fallow for so long ―
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate; vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
It's getting harder and harder
for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree
Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp
A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil
Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas
a friend sent a link to a deeply thought provoking modern classic 70's song about Vincent Van Gogh and the complexities of imperfection some of us relate .... i'd listened to the words prior but never heard before now.
Title is last final lyric line from: "Vincent" (Starry, Starry night) 1971
Writer(s): DON MCLEAN, ENRICO NASCIMBENI,
A confident man feels not a need to speak
on all things with which he does not agree
Though in the proper time and place
he is not afraid to assert his way
And though his words at times cause spurn,
he will admit when they are out of turn
Fearing not the inevitable mistake,
but rather owning it too late
Caring and feeling without hesitation
and not for reciprocal adulation
Emotions are expressed appropriately;
either subtlety or rationally
As honest with others as with himself;
recognizing what he does and doesn’t do well
Claiming to know what he does know
and asks when he don’t
Pursuing tasks for their benefit and or joy
rather than status or fleeting ploys
Those latter things are often great fun,
but worry of them yields none
While in his mind there is good thinking,
he is more occupied with good acting
In order to have concerns of the ideological,
requires labors that are practical
On his confidence, he does not ponder,
as neither he or anyone wonders
of whether he truly possesses it.
We know it.
A new nation
Prevents us from facing
A human cessation
It may help explaining
But not the foundation
Eyes are gazing
In need of hydration
Time no longer wasting
Hint of *******
we are craving
It all had been taken
The giving and getting
All else I’m forgetting
with each other
Like entangled netting
on the same trip
In a unified heading
Smash all expectations
That lasts the duration
Filled with gratification
Written: July 8, 2018
All rights reserved.
Stars light up the sky.
There's a twinkle in your eye.
Is it love or lust?
Are you feeling this guy?
Your instincts...you should trust.
Afraid to become vulnerable.
And to let love take control.
Afraid that it will begin so beautiful.
Just to go down in flames.
Unsure if his love is real.
Or if he's playing mind games.
For now, just hold back what you feel.
Patience is a virtue.
Rushing things will only hurt you.
Take it nice and slow.
Watch how God make this love grow.
Just sit back and enjoy the flow.
is that little place in the universe
where i feel the most comfortable
to speak about love
without any hesitation or fear
of getting destroyed
more than i can bear.
that little place in universe
that makes me feel safer
than wherever i’ve been
is that little place
i call a home without a roof,
where i can keep my heart shatterproof.
They make you think they love you
With their soft kind words
They hug you as if you’re treasure
And then leave you for the birds
They come into your life
With their cowboy boots and ***** blond hair
And leave you crying
And thinking . . .
And thinking . . .
On what you did wrong
If he really loved you all along
And then you begin to hate your favorite songs
Because suddenly they're all about him
And they haunt you
And the next thing you know
Another boy is there
With green eyes and messy brown hair
And he beckons you into his trap
And he’s texting you!
But you don’t want to answer because you’re still CRYING
But! you answer anyways
Because you’re stupid
And maybe this boy will be kinder
And will be gentler
When he kills me
And leaves me
For the birds
The woman in the window
Looks out beyond the glass
Beyond the reach of her whispers
Befogged upon windowpanes glance
Farther than the bounds
Her own breathe imbues
Out of reach her long fingered touch
Tracing her murmurs on looking glass dew
Grasping for the shadowed artifacts
Only time does nonchalantly drift past
Perched alone upon a cloud of silence
Her thoughts eddy in soundless swirl
Spinning like dizzying shadows
Swallowed by a thirst for light
The other side of window beckons
Only she knows she’s looking out through a sigh;
Seeing no one familiar looking back ―
For what hidden jewels within abide
She dreams of dancing leafless by daylight
Twirling beneath the whispering willows sway
Just a step away from being free
Just a step away from feeling alive
With first step beyond imprisoning hesitation
Crossing over the threshold of a dream
Through a liberating portal outside the glass
Just on the other side of the windowsill ...
Jesse e Stillwater
13th April 2018
people watching in a coffee shop
is one of the simple pleasures in life
the bizarre satisfaction you get
when you sit by the window
solving crossword puzzles
or probably sipping your cup of hot latte
immediately tilting your head up
when someone enters
as they pass by your table
what kind of person they are?
what coffee do they drink?
what do they do in the coffee shop?
where were they from?
who are they with?
thoughts by thoughts
questions by questions
curiosity kicks in
eventually clouding your mind
as you nibble your chapped lip
finally finding a solution
to the crosswords
also your futile thoughts
you give those people in the shop
every single one of them
based on their coffee
just some random thoughts of mine
Primed for the next evolution in Our intimacy as the taste of Your succulence still lies upon my lips
The faint sound of the straps clicking confirming Your submission
While nothing shall escape from Your whicked tongue as it too is confined to its domain
For Your flesh now belongs to me and will be subjected unto my craft
And being it is Our first time i shall be... gentle
Let Us begin
So as the bees labours are not in vain
honey sweet the sting of molten wax upon tips of swollen *******...
Forming to Your perfection
Slow and by number they prepare Your willing vessel for the upcoming paedicatio devastation
By shimmered form and whetted edge
barbering to reveal Your plump and pulsating labium emanating
such divine nectar and heaven scent
A well placed smack stiffens further
Fingers, Licked tips, Essence enticing the tongue
Points are pressured, some by pin, a resonating growl signals your approval as i begin my descent
Insertion immersion into Your cavity depravity is not bound and determined am i to please You
Only Your eyes speak to me and deep be their gaze
Deeper still the *******
hesitation between thrusts
The profound sound of the pounding astounding to the ears it's clear another offering will soon be presented incentive for the continuation of Our journey
With the escalation of Your cries as thighs quake...quivering...releasing a moan of satisfaction and once again my thirst slaked
Oh how i long to fill You
by Your silken flesh
it was You i wished to bind
now i find
it is i
with Yours entwined
and so inclined
i removed the bindings
emotions are felt
to knees i fell
before You...eternally in servitude.
Mmmm..The warmth of breath upon the nape..
With tender kiss..
A soft embrace..
Long has it been since last ive known such pleasures
And may long be the Love We make....