"insider" poems
Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-
But I do know how to tell a true love story -
Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,
True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -
In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.
and that’s what makes them “true.”
But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-
Love, is a constant state of illusionment-
A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be, can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-
A quid pro quo between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-
Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-
Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-
Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-
So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -
A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe
So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-
I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”
I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of utter normalcy
I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-
I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.
Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.
..And that is my true love story-
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
The release; so powerful; sometimes to feel alive: all you need is a reminder:
His guiding hand:supplying the demands to the upper-hand, across her belly button, to forbidden; lands. Parted lips, her pink folds;dragging his hands down. Working each other: we ain’t fooling around; our bodies, over time. Dripping wet with desire.
Her reaching back; she leaned back. Over the edge; of the bed. standing ***** Picture perfect; she’s holding her breath, as he’s kissing on her neck, her breast, focused on her ****** the left. Right in my mouth. Long ponytail, pulled to the left. She is wet, under there, her underwear - pulled to the side, exposing her underhair; shaved bare, under there.
Fingers wrapped around him. Looking hard, she found it; tugging on it. Him pushing his luck got her pressing her lips against him. Pulling his belt out of way; biting his lips, he’s tensing. She, kiss as she play. looking a certaining way; tempting how she tempts him. She’s over the top, and its so overwhelming.
She’s all touched, from touching it; so fortunate, her ******* soaking wet, juices flowing. Wet spots, he’s all over it. Exposing her **** to his fingertips: with his index; middle finger next. Started working her slow, building up to raw *** Pressure building, rising her chest. She’s worked up; trying to get off. Giving it our best. Her waistline, being pumped from behind, so smooth; the finest wine. Unsatisfiable rhythm, keeping them inline. Holding onto her waist, he’s so online; bending backwards, pleasuring each other, every time. Some may come and go, but they come together every single time.
He’s feeling it: the way its feeling, feels so good - a burning sensation: her tenderness subduing his manhood; all is well, so it must good. Movement, with quickness, once his hips shifts, its motion sickness. Stroking his egos, increasing his stiffness, filling her deep. She’s clenching him, tighten, tighter. The feeling of him growing, she’s feeling him insider. Their wet bodies, skins glistening in the their fire.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
From the cultured hood of Beverly Hills
Young rich white kid rapping
Blonde hair perfectly combed and trimmed
Blue eyes shaded from California sun
Spitting ghetto slang about unfair pain,
Affirmative action, cultural injustices
Daddy’s allowance, racial profiling
Pimp[le] mobile and spinning rims
Gold plated teeth over pearly whites
Slinging 401k’s and time shares
Baggy pants sagging down past his ***
Tugging at his crotch
His hand permanently attached
To his little white flaccid ****
Trying to keep from tripping
While he’s running from the police
Wanted for questioning
On insider trading
And insurance scams
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
Snowflakes gently fall
Christmas lights illuminate the streets
Families gather insider their homes
And I just keep walking, searching for home
I took the nomad life, long ago
To find my meaning
To find my purpose
But now I'm just lonely
I never found, what I went searching for
Years have passed now
On this sleepy old town
But here I am
Back on the door step
Of the place I once left
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
Door is a set-up to detach open and closed,
Door is a make-up to split between outsider and insider,
Door is a structure to segregate have and haven’t,
Door is an arraignment to cover up sin,
Door is a perturb to nature,
Door is a device to support legacy of abuse,
Door is a tool to manipulate truth for concealing the phony;
Door is a tragedy to humanity to isolate it from bionetwork;
Get up and come together to break the door to fortify bionetworks!
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
~
*A scribbled note passed
from one insider to the next.
The day she runs out of people
she'll conference with birds,
fall asleep a child
and wake up a woman,
broadcasting from home
on the night in question.
A hundred years from today,
she'll hold on to dead flowers
from the fairground encounter.
She will avoid the bridge,
circle instead around
the walls of Jericho.
She'll write upon the wall
like it was her heart.*
~
May 13, 2024
May 13, 2024 at 1:34 PM UTC
Flood every grocery sack with opened up noodle boxes.
Ask the butcher for fresh chinook salmon.
Bother the pharmasists for a secret remedy until he sighs and gives in.
Give the lady yourcalifornia sunshine drivers license when she yawns and
Has to make sure you can buy a bottle. ( I imangined what happened after we danced.)
She moved my pulse like safeways selectice bold brazillian roast.
I believe her secret recipies for pickled seduction.
Every first isle Leaves me happily underneath the celings act three popcorn
Until I beg her to hold like fresh melting george forman grilled cheese (what I was looking for a long time from now)
The iron clad grill Whisperes"you have found her missing grocery list". Why has her bias condemmed possibilies canned tuna fish in oil. Theres nothing to see insider her locks of eggplant stems. i can find a alternative way to cash my sacronized invisible receit stamped with red words raincbeck. I couldnt afford you impulse items.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
1.
I'm sorry I'll never be able to have dinner with your family, that I'll never be able to sit down to a meal that your mother cooked, hold your hand under the table, and feel like an insider. I'll always decline to stay for dinner because I know that the anxiety over eating, over saying the wrong things would get to me and the plate set in front of me would feel like a mountain to be climbed, a spotlight exposing the fact that I am a fraud and I'm sorry for that.
2.
I'll never grow out of it. I've grown into it. The lines between It and I have become hazy and some days I don't know who I am. Some days I'm going to be a ***** some days I'm going to withdraw, some days I'm going to need you to hold me and kiss me. Some days I'll let you see the most vulnerable parts of me and other days you're not going to recognize the girl you fell in love with.
3.
I'm addicted to my eating disorder. I need the control, the pain, the punishment. The feeling of my bones under my skin keeps me going, the promise of tomorrow.
4.
They say it's love when he's the first thing you think of when you wake up and the last thing you think of before you go to bed. But my weight is always at the forefront, perpetually waiting for morning to come so I can drag myself out of bed, weigh myself and wait for the day that I feel satisfied and I know it shouldn't be this way.
5.
I love you more than I hate myself.
6.
I will never leave you here by yourself. It doesn't matter what I feel, I will never leave you wondering why. I can hurt myself, but I could never hurt you like that.
7.
I know you're trying to understand what I'm dealing with, but I honestly don't understand it myself.
8.
I'm sorry that we'll never be able to order pizza and cuddle while watching Doctor Who, I'm sorry you'll never treat me to a fancy restaurant, I'm sorry I don't know why you love me, I'm sorry I'll skip out on doing things just because I don't want to confront food, I'm sorry I'll never go trick or treating with you, I'm sorry my problems are affecting our relationship. I'm sorry that I've made it personal. I'm sorry that I've put a face to the words 'eating disorder,' I'm sorry that it's a face that you love.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
Such passion?
It's a distraction
I'd rather be focused and poised
Forget all the noise
Pay attention to the game
Cause you know we all play
Insider rules
There's nothing to see?
Like a diamond in the rough
It all makes jewelry
Think this game is about love?
Well maybe it once was
Now it's about self preservation
Just staying alive
Through destruction and devastation
Your game is a hard act to follow
Cause you think you always win
But I'm not about too wallow
In self pity or depression
I'm making new rules
And your not allowed to play
Remember how you walked in my life,
Nothing but words and lies?
It's no longer yesterday,
Forget tomorrow,
Because Today...
You can leave the same way
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
the sun is a halo over the steeple
blinding cast on the winter snow
most are confused by a peaceful sleep
quiet now or the reality will show
is this how life as
an insider looks?
like disciples,
they gather only to disperse
loud sheep, starving
up out of my seat,
walk fast past the pews
stained glass windows,
cold smelly books in brown
wooden rooms
through the wet white terrain
where everything sparkles like crystals
my knees were bleeding, i cried
take me home, take me home
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 9:27 AM UTC
She stands on an abandoned sidewalk alone
New to this
Her hair red as fire
Jeans torn like her heart
And boots black as night
Shes been through a lot
But still smiling
She was much like the phoenix
Risen from the ashes of the past
Looking to the future
And burning with a fire deep insider her
She wasn't afraid to go or it
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
I watched you leave through the window.
Did you even think twice?
I bet not.
You used to be a sad, old thing,
Silent and fat, dangerously nice
Not even a clue.
But did you...did you know?
You certainly thought you knew me...
Mistake number 1.
But I, I made some terrible mistakes.
I needed you to see,
You became a friend...
And an odd friend at that!
Picking fights not meant for you-
Didn't help anyone.
And picking fights with me!
Until you knew what I'd do.
I thought it odd.
Polar opposites, but it worked alright.
The world seemed to move again.
Well, it was twirling down.
It was something that I'd never do,
Which is why you would begin.
Greedy, still, for a rich one.
You were told to close that window,
By maybe, your mother?
I know she hated me.
Or, just because you didn't need loyalty,
But numbers and numbers-another, another.
I wasn't going along!
You knew such, so you wanted me out.
I was the wrong one for that.
It tore me apart.
Simply, I was a gateway. A way
To become an insider...you rat!
Like all of the others.
I must say, rich-y, you fit well.
It's a blood-sucking town.
We all hate each other.
But mostly, me, you see.
You didn't know I was down.
It's all happened before.
You knew that! I told you!
You just didn't have a heart.
I bet not.
Did you even think twice,
Before making a start?
I bet not!
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
Longing to escape his clutches
A subtle begging for aggressive touches
A breeze is building
Something soft
She sees the risk but wonders the cost
Constant hunger needs constant filling
This yearning insider her wont stop spilling
Torment lined with silver
A blooming darkness deep within her
A glint of light appears afar
Beauty and tragedy
A dying star
The wind is coming
She can feel my scars
A pain that can't be seen
Cracked lips fill with sensual screams
The freedom she seeks
Passion
Adaptive and flowing
The storm is here
The wind stops blowing
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
There's a place
Where the light
Won't find you,
Deep inside.
There's a place,
Where the hope,
Is so cold,
Deep inside.
We have all been scorched
Down the flat of our feet,
From the walk, to the top
Of our lowered heads,
And it was decided we didn't want to do this anymore.
I see my clique have made it quite clear they've been winning more battles now,
I walk around the camp checking out their paintings and hearing their chants,
And I see hands holding hands, keeping them too,
The saving was done by brave, obscure tunes,
Different sound waves crafted by two, saved them all and grew them new.
The art everywhere and battle scars,
I smile a little smile but it's a sad one in my mind,
It's all out of my insider thoughts,
It's all out of my insider gloom.
I should fall into these groups,
Of survival in the dark, but it's way over my top,
And I shuffle back to my place and same all spot to watch from a far,
And the whispers declare this is the darkest dark.
There's a place,
Where the light,
Won't find you,
Deep inside.
But there's a way,
And a choice we can make,
To find it instead.
Way outside.
Now... what is it in my heart, that I like this dark?....
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC
walked upon your avenue 'bout a thousand times before
ironically, wasn't looking for a score
only had a pen as my sword
it's a shame
but good to know, some things remain the same
don't know what sounds were ringing in my ears then
but the beers and the tears made me a brave ten
guess I didn't feel enslaved then
guess I knew when turn the page when
someone enters your life's story
and you think you're better, cause everything seems boring
when you got neil or tori spitting wisdom in your lobes
and the poor **** is jammin' to that gangster **** that runs the globe
illuminati, glitterati, they don't want your body
it's just an echo of nevermore
used to know a girl named Lenore
until the birds poured into her head
stolen first were the memories and things unsaid
next came the dreams from a solitary bed
might as well have been in the middle of the ocean
I don't pretend to know your pain
or what it's like to lose or gain
I only know that I can conceive the notion
of waves crashing, so soothing, so earth-shattering
the infernal pressure felt from above while you're barely floating
and God seems to be gloating, like he created something in his image
so hold on, no matter how sinister
and of course, they all tell you it's in your mind
it's the devil doing paint by numbers in disguise
it's a gift-wrapped present with nothing inside but lead
but you know that crazy is just a term for the clock in your head
so you listen to his rhymes that flow, so lightly but so heavily
that they become your desire
so you use your last match to blow your best smoke ring
and never notice that the bed's on fire
and now you're back walking on the avenue
it took quite a few spins of that **** for you to get the gist
cause even the sages wouldn't know what side to be on
when it's you against the world, outsider vs insider, and on and on
it goes, so you rub elbows with a stranger
next move could be heaven or be danger
but this is your least favorite life
so you say **** it, hello, my name is, welcome to the show
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Your 'Top TRP' news team has just learnt that
A consortium of fanatics and hypocrites now claim
That the proprietorship of 'God' is now with them
And will spew hatred on anyone disobeying them.
Our unnameable “reliable” sources tell us that
Anyone desiring to worship 'God' “more perfectly,”
Henceforth, must follow their rules quite strictly
Or floggings will be handed out quite promptly.
Our brave insider informants have divulged that
At last have awaken our pious priests and scholars
To discuss these “disturbing new developments;”
But they're upset most about lost revenue streams.
The atheists were seen rejoicing and saying that
There is no need any more, *“for us to self-promote
While our competitors repeatedly self-mutilate.”*
But have they forgotten, Stalin also preached hate?
Our unquestionably reliable survey tells us that
We are angry, sad, glad, disgusted and also clueless
In roughly equal measure. But most are just curious:
“How all this bla-bla will effect commodity prices?”
There was however, an 'odd' man who said that
God is Love and God does not hate. Will turn to rust
He who chooses hate. *“Not in someone's deep pocket
Will I find God. But God I'll find, always in my heart.”*
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Grey marks the shivers and stutters that
Stop your throat from loosening,
Coughing out apology after apology.
The thin maroon excuse for warmth
Cuts into your arms and
A polo neck button placed too high
Helps the nervous cut into your
Throat, choking off words and
Well-wishes.
Look at this brand new, overpriced
And itchy navy blanket to
Wrap around your shoulders while
I bleach out your windcheater
See now, it's red.
Not quite the same as you remember
The little figures on your breast
Changed into a quill and some
Other absurdity you're not sure of
Yet.
Sit between these two red girls,
They're your angels so stop trying to
Hate them.
Give them all a chance, 9 weeks
At least because no one hates you,
You just hate this
System.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 12:21 AM UTC
We’re breathin’ hot air
Talkin’ ‘bout class warfare
But the poor they don’t care
'Cause politics don’t mean nothin’
When you’re needin’ somethin’
To end your despair
They ain’t readin’
Intellectual half-witted bleedin’
Who go home smilin’
It don’t take much thinkin’
For you to be realizin’
The lies ain’t worth chokin’
When you see the same beggin’
On the dyin’ corner
You get to wonderin’
Why do they keep pleadin’
If it ain’t good or is it just somethin’
They can’t stop repeatin’?
It’s a thinkin’ man who knows
That even with nice clothes
You can’t sleep all that well
‘Cause he sees the endin’
Of the ******** dreamin'
He’s been trying to sell
What you can say
Is you really don’t know why
Except maybe you should try
Maybe the poor man is better off
‘Cause he ain’t worryin’ ‘bout pride
Or recollectin' his last lie
They keep pollutin’
And we keep losin’
No matter how hard your workin’
It’s an insider’s creation
And a suckers frustration
‘Cause the chads got no salvation
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
I feel unlike everyone else
But I know I'm not the only one walking trough hell.
I guess I; need an angel, or maybe a demon.
It really just depends which one I'm feed'en.
And I have them both standing on my shoulders. One giving me orders. The other is my soilder. And they both talking about my disorders. But I ignore them and blow them off like mortars. So I guess I need to find that shoulder to cry on, the one to rely on. I wouldn't care if she drove an ion or a scion. But she knows that I'm keeping my eye on her. But its really just a fight of surviver. But really its the insider myself the fight through hell. Is there anyone else?
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Perrie Edwards hasn’t made a secret of the fact that she’s not yet ready to get married, despite being engaged to Zayn Malik for the last two years and now it seems her constant hesitation is getting to the star.
The Little Mix beauty has found her life consumed once again with promo work and touring, as she publicises her new single and third studio album and as a result it sounds like her personal life has taken a bit of a back seat.
Insiders say Zayn is getting tired of waiting for Edwards to commit to a date for their wedding and he’d rather be tying the knot sooner rather than later…..but is being put off all the time.
“Zayn wants them to set the date for their wedding so they have something to work towards,” a source told Reveal magazine. “He’s not saying it has to be soon, but he believes if they set a date then they have to get things done. Having it all drag on means neither of them is motivated to organize because there’s no deadlines.”
The source claimed that Malik is tired of hearing Perrie be so blasé about their commitment to one another and is sick of listening to her brushing off questions about their future every single day.
He’s ready to start making life long plans, especially now that they’ve found the house they want to raise a family in and the insider continued:
“Zayn is not being interviewed constantly like when he was in the band but Perrie is, especially with their new single out, and every time he hears her say there’s no date it gets to him,” they said. “He doesn’t get why they haven’t set one yet.”
While we are sure Zayn wants to marry his Little Mix fiance, we’re not convinced that he’s quite as keen and desperate as is being claimed here though. He whisked Perrie away for a romantic birthday weekend on Friday and seems to be enjoying the extra time they’re getting to spend with one another, as a result of his suddenly clear work schedule.
Leave your comments below…..
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
Holy business,
steady work, hunting and gathering
hearing ears and seeing eyes
deafen'd and blinded,
by the rent sky demanding all
attention,
now, insider, consider,
be as wary as the ants
scouting my kitchen for a season,
while I remain safe and warm, and
welcoming, for now,
wishing to know how the foragers
bring the team
I may easily imagine, the harvesters,
happy as ever any ants must be,
working bits of a tiny empire
seeking shelter from the storm…
Jan 7, 2023
Jan 7, 2023 at 1:32 PM UTC
I scribble here, musing,
In my writer's mind, looming,
Is my muse a ghost writer?
A writer's mind has an insider,
How do your imagine your muse?
Like an ancient soul, thoughts to amuse,
Or is talent our muse?
Thoughts write themselves,
Creating lit. for bookshelves,
All a bit of a puzzle, you see,
Musing on our muses, a mystery.......
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC
What does it mean, this feral pounding?
This feeling of imploding?
Am I dying?
Am I living?
Is this just the beginning?
A sense of falling, falling off
my eyes have now caved in
Falling up
Where is time?
No, it can wait for us.
Nature speaks, a gentle whisper.
She knows what I am doing.
Can they tell?
Do they know?
Paranoia grasps me further
Another cap? Another stem?
Do I reason just like them?
Questions here,
answers there:
ignore my existential whim
Jumping round, up and down
feel the hole inside my chest
May it come?
May it go?
Could I focus just a sec?
Now laughing hard, as I did
when my feet my feet were half this size,
(what's my age?
what's my height?)
Was my grandma really right?
Think of friends, think of past.
It all really goes too quick.
Floating. Soaring.
This is NOW!
Can I pretend I'm fine again?
Coming down, but melting still...
Why does that tree look mad at me?
The contraction
of refraction,
so just giggle, look, and Be.
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 8:16 PM UTC
At the end of seven minutes
What will remain?
Hopefully not
an empty page
I'll test these glorious minutes
as if the end if my soul
is nigh
and try
To live to the fullest
I leave with a dry eye
an burbling well
of unused thoughts
a special little piece
of me
That I never thought
I could wrap with any sort
of decorum
Leaving it under the seat
of a well trafficked forum
Just a little surprise
to light someone's eyes
Just a tiny thought
plucked from so many
*Desire the world
claim your own little part
insider your heart
and never let any
deny your pleasure
For what we all treasure
is something that lives
inside us that is our very own
Our own little piece of the world
Where we can be some one*
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC