"hotly" poems
(explicit)
**** my soul
with poetry
scream out my gracious name
slay me with words
that peel my layers
and simultaneously
drive me
insane
finger me slowly, hotly
with just the right rhythm and rhyme
push me past my
tender limits
into tongues of syntax,
sublime
alliterate my senses
(in swift stac
c-at
o)
until my mind is but blank verse
mess up my stressed
and unstressed syllables
in unsung language, versed
I will speak to you in vowels
(the only sound
I will be able to make)
as you stroke
my iambic pentameter
in the heat of frothed-up
ache
we are this heroic couplet, you see
even if the meaning seems veiled
no need for simile or metaphor
as I feel your chest rise
in deep inhale
we are a natural paradox
so many ironies abound
discordant harmony
is our synaesthesia
in visible darkness found
and I love this delicious enjambment
as your aura invisibly slips
into mine
our lines have no beginning,
no end
as we undo
the boundaries
of time
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
photograph One:
i see you, and the first things i see are your dark eyes
you sit beside me with open hands and make me laugh over coffee.
photograph Two:
one night i notice your mouth. you haven't drank but i have.
still all i see are your eyes when you first lean in.
i'm aroused and utterly haunted.
photograph Three:
you're so pale i want to colour you in. i want to make you alive.
you're dancing so frenetically, my marionette man
and i can't tell who tugs the strings.
photograph Four:
It's after midnight and you've stormed from my house snarling
like a wolf waiting to die.
"i'm poison" you spit. "i'll poison you, too".
"you and me." i plead. "i won't run".
photograph Five:
it's a cloudy day. you tell me you love me without looking me in the eye.
photograph Six:
you're standing in the open doorway against winter wind
dragging a half-quit cigarette and i am hugging my knees on your couch
waiting for you to calm
our eyelashes smeared chilly with tears.
photograph Seven:
you are lying on the floor, heaving with sobs.
i am holding you as tight as i can because i don't know what to do
and i'm afraid if i let you go you will cremate in the heat of your darkness
already we are both husks.
photograph Eight:
we lie awake in your cold bed and we are strangers
you will not touch me and i feel naked.
photograph Nine:
i awoke at 4am from a dream of you that was a lie
many months after i fled from your ghost
and like an infected wound
it still throbs hotly that i could not save you
and that for so long i could not save myself from you
the dark-eyed boy with the angel tattoo
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
As we transcend from the perfumed gardens
my hot lips climb your mount of venus
and by your belly button
I breath hotly on you and lay a kiss
I know I pretend to be prim and hawlty
but keep my secret, that I bite naughty
People would think me a ***** monger
a ****** beast with a unquenchable desire
I rive and burn with anticipation
just to feel skin against skin
I'd do you and her to, it's my fault
that I do bite naughty
I look deep into your eyes
as I move up ever forward
I reach your temple lips
and there I lay my hypnotic kiss
laying where you are my beauty
as I bite you naughty
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
In the witching hour all is quiet except for the beating sound of two hearts entwined with passion and agony beating more angry by the minute.
Blinded eyes try to pierce through the dark abyss to find sanity in a place of cold nothingness and desolation, as the tortured mind cloudy with regret slowly fades away..
nails claw at blinded eyes longing to see the clouds part and behold, his goddess is there basking in the pale yellowing aura of the moon, as he looks longingly upon her..
skin and curves of perfection soaking up the yellowing, becoming golden upon his slightest gaze.
Knees become burning furnaces of pain and torment as he falls to kneel before her, begging with soundless words of an open mouth for release.
Paralyzed, hungrily devouring as her sightless eyes fall upon her brooding brow trailing down to the blinding stars that become her eyes under the harvest moon.
The wind blows fierce surrounding her in a halo of color plucked dead limbs, trailing off into oblivion.
She gazed upon his visage, her fierceness burning his soul in eternal torment she smirks and glides toward effortlessly slowly,
tantalizingly slow,
causing him great anguish and letting her sadistic humor known to all..
he lashed out and traps her in his iron eyes transfixed on lips so full and soft as crimson color them tricking down her body hungrily eating her perfect curves he kisses her
hard throwing themselves down a bottom less pit entangled in passion he forces her legs apart he slams into her as she drips wet in anticipation..
She moans breathlessly in extract, her ***** like velvet greedily devours his hardened **** of stone repeatedly ****** her innocence, tired bodies continuously fall exhausted.
She tried to flee, but his fires flamed inside hotly he takes her again.
His embrace hard, intense
his iron will dominating her.
Breaking her wild spirit, she gasps as he unleashes a relentless force inside her driving her to the edge of sanity and back again.
Her eyes close for the last time giving into his dominance
she embraced him.
Her wild flaming spirit shattered knowing that as he worships her it is she who is forever a slave of their passionate love,
melding bodies together,
as they fall endlessly in the abyss.
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 9:04 PM UTC
The autumn winds ***** her mercilessly,
as idle hands lunge for delicate petticoats.
Their ugly, pockmarked howls pinch her deeply
with each new limb they expose,
until her tears drop like leaves, unheard
and become soiled.
By the winter, she’s left leaning awkwardly
like a slapper against a lamp post.
Her body but scattered, bent baguettes,
freeze-set with the frigid, nightly chills,
which preserve her stark immodesty
and her malign revenge.
Yet spring adorns her with tentative protruding buds,
glazed like freshly shellacked fingernails,
as her body itches with the swellings of youth
and foliage fastens frills around her chest,
summoning the dewy-peach lustre of virginity.
Now she basks in our wanton, forgiving glares.
As the summer teases, she writhes Lolita-like
in a raincoat that clings to her, just so.
Her barely concealed fruits spilling out,
as the sun caresses her skin hotly, until she ****
with that cacophony of lilac bells gawping, grape-like,
ringing out the sweet moans of her petite-mort.
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
Preamble at the showdown the fighters eye to eye
Droning pulse of discourse from the referee is dry,
Bouncing back to my corner the butterflies take charge
For the other guy’s a monster, like a Doberman at large.
Bell resounds alarmingly, I shuffle forth to meet
A combination thrown with steel…it whacks me off my feet.
Seeing stars I resurrect to lurch about the ring
To try to keep some distance from the monster’s punching sting.
Roaring crowd are baying now they call to take me out
The Doberman is grinning for he reckons it’s a route,
The flashing light confusing, the noise a steady din
As the monster comes in quickly to achieve expected win.
Throwing jabs to keep him back, retreating to the rope
I cover up with everything to give myself some hope
He pounds with his salvos they hammer hard and fast
His breathing rasping in my ears I pray to God I last.
Saved by the bell and cold water, such disgrace
The crowd are loudly booing, I’ve not put leather on his face,
A wash of resolution hotly surges from within
So I **** the mouth guard back and rush on out to tackle him.
Defensive expectations had him open up his chin
So I feinted with a left and launched a mighty right with spin,
Boring in with fury and a combination score
I hit him with an uppercut which traversed from the floor.
Miraculously the eyeballs rolled and disappeared from sight
I threw another flurry…but had no one to fight
Flat out on the deck he lay, the Doberman was out
As I bounced around like Rocky to the punters frenzied shout.
Camera flashes blinded as the raving crowd went wild.
It defied all expectations, I was the sacrificial child.
Bets were laid that I would fall within a round or two
The screaming din reflected that all bets were in the poo.
The countdown took forever and I swear I watched each stroke
And kept one eye on the fallen, should he rise he’d go for broke,
My amazement with two wobbly knees and heaving lungs of fire
When my leaden glove was held aloft to victory entire.
Winners come and winners go but this I’ll not forget
When fortune favoured sweetly…and I collected on the bet!
Marshalg
My thanks to Shane Cameron…a real fighter.
14 April 2013 (Pukehana Paradise)
© 2013 Marshal Gebbie
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
For I will consider a town called Riverside.
For its only river, the dry Santa Ana, it's shore peppered with the homeless, garbage, an old shoe, a cart stolen from the grocery.
For its downtown with dried gum spots all along the sidewalk, its dive bars with regulars pouring in at 3pm and pouring cheap beer into their gullets until morning.
For its overpriced theatre, a gentrified landmark, driving the sun-hot strays to the park.
For the park, and a lake, dotted with boats in the summer, driven by tired feet, hands hiding beer in gas station soda cups.
For the mountain, with the old ladies, counting every step, looking up to the cross and over the edge onto a thick brown smog.
For the steepled churches on every corner, waking us every Sunday to pray to a hotly scarce God.
For I will consider a town called Riverside.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
He's part artist, part alchemist,
but a full-on con, self-professed with post-
graduate degrees in mixology
and the god-given sense to know which
smoldering home remedies will catch fire
(give or take an occasional legal glitch).
His healing pitch is grifted on the easy
comparison of queasily lowered brows to
their indistinctly raised betters. You'll doff
the scoffing face as he pulls back a masking
caparison, and your fever gallops hotly
hoof-in-mouth with an uncontrollable itch.
Tinctures, colloids, salves and potions,
they all have twisty caps, blithe boxes
bubbling over with hypnotic patterns
fashioned to cure your urge to avoid
his futility. First'll come the ****** then
the crumple followed by purse strings loosening.
Don't consider it capitulation.
His assortment of fluid manipulations
bear a singular branding at 100 proof,
and after the recommended daily dosing
(two jiggers with each meal), you'll feel
you're **** erectus made sapient.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:15 PM UTC
Unburied
tomorrow
from Christian metanarratives
the mid-winter solstice.
December 21;
the shortest day
over the longest night.
Two lovers
are by the Channel
divided
to different beds
to tongue tastes
to timed beats
to unfamiliar scents
as Yuletide days
burn twelfths to gray ash;
their bodies
are sea
cleaved.
Come!
cross the water
and release
with lively touch
tresses thick
and winter's dew,
unctuous upon the crag,
the timely solar orb
to stir the frozen ground
on our rocky shelves
and chopped bowels.
On 25th,
Christ's star is risen:
the king's light dispersed
in lengthening days
in opened flesh
in loosening chords untied
in sinews gnawed through
in desire's wanting hotly flayed!
60 seconds were daily added,
to when
in the 100 Year Gallery,
love to know,
would in solstice
ultimately lay.
For now as then,
our emboldened play
in days delayed
has been
love's lacerating torment!
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
My lips feel heavy,
as I watch you fill yourself
with toxic waste.
Disgust bubbles hotly,
but no judgement
will I ever speak.
After all,
I wouldn't want you
to judge me for my
cup of ice against your
plate of pasta. My dark
circles against your
rosy cheeks.
Shaking tremors
make me tap at the
table in between us.
What do you see
when you look at me?
Beauty? Or bones?
When I look at
you, all I ever see
is a life I will
never have the luxury
of living. Mouthfuls of
treasure I'll never
be able to think
of consuming.
When I play pretend,
I always pretend
to be you.
And it's always
better than I
ever think it will be.
Even when the
consequences of
being you fill
my mouth with bile
over a pure white
basin, the memories
are still worth it.
Still enough,
to get me through
another week.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 3:24 AM UTC
Merrick, was he
And now farmer.
The ghost of the Euridi wars
But now simply father.
She gave unto him Ilo
And then passed.
A treasure from her *****
For what more could he ask?
The grey in his hair
And the wrinkle upon his skin.
As his daughter kissed his cheek
He thought not of past sin.
Ilo sang as the angels
And glided with beauty.
But her sickness had doomed her
To waste away rudely.
Traveller Nner spoke of
Arcadia and the four ghosts of God.
Far away, over mountains
Plagued by demons and monsters odd.
Ilo can live again,
Warrior-farmer-father.
Across the desert, ocean, and mountains
Do not falter.
Staff in hand,
Upon Kerona he rides.
Eastward towards the ghosts
With Ilo's body by his side.
Dragon of desert lands,
From the sand to the sky, fly
Breathe of fire, brimstone
A war through the night.
Cut deep
The flesh of the fire breather.
For your daughter Ilo's soul
Hangs in the ether.
Victory and blood
But her body lies still.
No gain from this battle.
Only sorrow and hatred to feel.
Forward to the ocean,
To the lair of the giant serpent.
The one who drinks up the waters
And will not relent.
The mighty beast,
He steals away Ilo's body.
To the floor of the earth,
Beckoning Merrick hotly.
A foul beast has stolen
The body of my daughter.
Merrick breathes in all the air
And follows after.
A war under water,
Flesh and blood in twain.
****** into the belly of the beast.
A nameless grave.
Burst forth from the entrails,
Ripped, bitten, and torn.
Another beast overcame.
Another victory, though forlorn.
He holds her body
And her head against his.
A tear he permits.
His life would he give.
To the forests of Zalvest
To the lair of evil.
Black magic awaits
To unravel his meddle.
Trickery of the mind,
Manipulated with horror.
Recalling the gruesome battles of Euridi
And comrades lost to war.
Blinded by fear,
By the demon wizard of Zalvest.
How helpless he feels.
Lay the ghost to rest.
Acceptance of sin,
Parting with guilt.
A wizard rendered weak,
The evil-willed welps.
To the four ghosts of God
Atop the mountains of Arcadia.
Breathe life to Ilo
I have bested the sons of Echidna.
Not ghosts of God,
But of the devil.
A sacrifice for a life,
A hero laid low to their level.
And Ilo is raised,
Her breathe is now her own.
With his parting words
His love is shown.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:23 AM UTC
On the outer
carapace of it,
all seems ok
I am held
together by
single dry thre
a ds
like wire
and strips of
sinews
they keep me
tightly-wrapped,
a package of
molten powders
secret dynamite
waiting to
e x p l o d e in
exotic ticks
of clockwork
but one scratch
beneath the surface
reveals my
inner truth:
How I wish,
by those
whorled and spiraled
powers above,
for the gently fluted
forces of my being
to be parted
like sacred seawater
with my psyche
f l o a t i n g
just beyond
the zing of
my brain,
no rational
understanding
required
yes. I long
to be ever-slowly
unraveled,
layer by layer
cell by cell
until all that is left
are the platelets
pulsating between
this heart
and yours
each beat
betraying an
acute intensity
of how
I felt it,
this tender
electricity
that crackled
through and
between
our bones
from the
very
beginning
of
our quiet blaze
our pinnacle
our quirky
metallic
textures
our breath
mingling over
airwaves
in heated
fluidity
hotly drenched
in the iridescent
dust of our
star-marked
time
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
essences of fire
and ice
keep wanting
to burst out of me
it is so hard to know
where to end
how to start
the rivulets
the torrents
turn them on like
a waterfall faucet
they are there,
the opposing elements
lurking, ready
just under surface
waiting to ooze, pour
secret inner filth
spilling endless
crusty lava
onto the naked
rough-hewn floor
along with purest
of lightbeam
hard to pinpoint
the moment
I knew I loved you
what love
is actually supposed to be
bubbling and frothing beneath
ice floes, melting
hot wax sliding
I do not know how
to prevent this
dripping exhaustion
of elongated membranes
from imploding
into the truest
form of encapsulated longing
sharpened pangs
spit-roasted
upon the fibers
of my brain, of my heart
my pain in stop starts
stop no go on
I can't take it
I want it all
can you feel me?
I want it all, I say
thrumming hotly
down
to
the last
wild drop
of
eternity
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
Geraldine
riding home
on the bus
after work
sitting there
in the crowd
thinking of
her lover
sweet Holly
lying there
in the ****
all the night
her small globes
kiss ready
legs parted
hotly moist
waiting for
Geraldine's
snake like tongue
spider like
*********
between thighs
watery
sea blue eyes
uttering words
I love you
between the
oohs and ahs
whispered sighs
of just there
gets me hot
just that spot
she sways slow
to bus's swerve
a bell's pressed
at the front
but all that
Geraldine
can think of
is Holly
and Holly's
moistful ****
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
When I was a child I would wake in the summer to the songs of lions,
calling hotly for meat, blood, bone to fill their bellies.
How many little girls can say when they opened their eyes every morning the world reminded them:
"Take all from what you are given. Tear it apart in your teeth, your hands, your mouth and take nourishment from it.
"Eat. Live."
This morning my lions are
two black cats that weave pitifully between my bare feet
squeaking their discontent into a florescent sun.
I cannot even hear the sparrows.
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 11:53 PM UTC
Doubled upon me twice and within the same week
As the cloud of death overshadowed over me
I tried to shout but could not speak.
Fleeing for my life as the debris and splinters were flying all around
In the midst of all the destruction
Great hail stones were also crashing down upon the ground.
What is my trespass? What was my sin that thou has so hotly pursued after me?
For upon my heels I felt your holy power and through the matrix, I then exited my ivory tower.
Lying in a cold sweat I'm trembling and I'm shaking
My heart is sore with great pain and is also aching.
Gazing up at the ceiling, I’m searching for the reason why
If I don't learn the interpretation soon
The next time it happens, my silver cord will be loosed and I will die.
As always in need of help I go and I take a look
Thank you Lord for giving me Samson's strength to open up, my five letter book.
For there it was right before my eyes the answer was revealed to me
It has to be the truth for the Lord tells no lies.
You’ve shown me countless visions and many marvelous wonders all along my path
If I turn my sights and away from you now I know I can expect to reap
Your whirlwind wrath.
(Curt A. Rivard Sr.)
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
My regulars
..
A cup of hotly brewed tea
with a menthol roll
sitting on an ash tray
beside my widely opened book
of a guilty pleasure promise
Day dreaming of a cold weather
with pine trees covered in white softness
and a
waft of cinnamon
mixed with baked floured ginger
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
High in our vast universe
Smoldering bodies touching
Fingertips exploring silken
Waiting with an eager breath
Dressed in silver moonbeams
Glittering stars in their eyes
Driven by natures own desire
Floating above heavens skies
The red rigid planet rises hotly
Teasing agony space performs
Lips tenderly touch and kisses
Orbits begin delicate slow spins
Venus in this sacred holy union
Eyes aglow in cloud like smoke
The world bluring and melting
As they slide together as one
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
Stars and scars write our fate in script so deep a telescope barely make it legible.
Scars unlike stars burn hotly in memory.
Stars cold and distant are dying slowly.
Slowly dying is the scar tissue,
slowly growing is the memory.
Stargazers look Scargazers look away.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
I could not believe my luck
To finally find a friend.
We could have taken on the world together,
I never wanted it to end.
Something had to come along and change it.
I know where we went wrong.
We both wanted to be in the same band,
But we both wrote differents songs.
We broke apart like clashing comets
Falling from out of the sky.
I guess inside I always knew
That I could never be your guy.
It wasn't that I lacked self-confidence.
It was not even that I felt shame.
We understood what the other meant.
But, the thing we wanted was the same.
I would have bet my heart on you.
But I could never live a lie.
For a while there, life was a party,
How the time flew by!
You drifted back into my world,
I was drifting far from mind.
About the time I was fragmenting,
Saturn was about to unwind.
Like a stone, I catapulted into the world.
I ricocheted liked a silver ball.
I was making up for lost time.
I would rise, then I would fall.
The colors melded hotly
As I did crash and burn.
The cynicism came with ease,
With every lesson I did learn.
I settled into my routine.
I cooled as I slowed down.
I looked you up to say hello,
And I miss having you around.
I cannot believe my luck.
That you still are my friend.
Sing your songs and tell me stories,
Like you did way back when.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
[and scarcely worth the trouble, at that]
The same to me are somber days and gay.
Though Joyous dawns the rosy morn, and bright,
Because my dearest love is gone away
Within my heart is melancholy night.
My heart beats low in loneliness, despite
That riotous Summer holds the earth in sway.
In cerements my spirit is bedight;
The same to me are somber days and gay.
Though breezes in the rippling grasses play,
And waves dash high and far in glorious might,
I thrill no longer to the sparkling day,
Though joyous dawns the rosy morn, and bright.
Ungraceful seems to me the swallow's flight;
As well might heaven's blue be sullen gray;
My soul discerns no beauty in their sight
Because my dearest love is gone away.
Let roses fling afar their crimson spray,
And ****** daisies splash the fields with white,
Let bloom the poppy hotly as it may,
Within my heart is melancholy night.
And this, O love, my pitiable plight
Whenever from my circling arms you stray;
This little world of mine has lost its light....
I hope to God, my dear, that you can say
The same to me.
1.4k
The same to me are sombre days and gay.
Though joyous dawns the rosy morn, and bright,
Because my dearest love is gone away
Within my heart is melancholy night.
My heart beats low in loneliness, despite
That riotous Summer holds the earth in sway.
In cerements my spirit is bedight;
The same to me are sombre days and gay.
Though breezes in the rippling grasses play,
And waves dash high and far in glorious might,
I thrill no longer to the sparkling day,
Though joyous dawns the rosy morn, and bright.
Ungraceful seems to me the swallow's flight;
As well might Heaven's blue be sullen gray;
My soul discerns no beauty in their sight
Because my dearest love is gone away.
Let roses fling afar their crimson spray,
And ****** daisies splash the fields with white,
Let bloom the poppy hotly as it may,
Within my heart is melancholy night.
And this, oh love, my pitiable plight
Whenever from my circling arms you stray;
This little world of mine has lost its light ...
I hope to God, my dear, that you can say
The same to me.
1.4k
Why is it that reheated fries are so disappointing
Why is it that everybody I like lives so far from my home, *****
Why do the good die young, why are the evil immortalized
Why does the sun go down, because I can't sleep at night
Why is it that if a bunch of people like something, it's automatically overrated
Why is it that common sense is so rare, but stupidity is hotly debated
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
She had dead eyes
not inert
but beyond life
A hunger drove
her stare
A fire burned
hotly underneath
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC