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"kinks" poems
I don't care what anybody else thinks, Anime is is bae, even if it has it's kinks. I hate the internet, with a burning passion now, and all because it took my anime! I was almost done with Death Note and Black butler Now what? Do I just watch re-runs of Bleach and High School DxD? Anime I LOVE you! and Last night I almost Cried! I now look at my boyfriend and say.... I understand why you almost died...
0
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Anime
Take me to an art museum on our first date Snip pictures of me next to the masterpieces and when im hungry buy me a veggie burger and strawberry smoothie Compliment my kinks when I take out my braids tell me on gorgeous even on those ****** days ". Support my dream to strut the runway but dont force me to go to church on Sunday Love me for who i am Is all I ask Effort will take you a long way Once you complete this task
0
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
effort is attractive
Oh Jackie Do you think it’s easy To fall in love with just a kiss Now every day I miss that natural Curl of your lips I can’t explain your beauty Maybe it’s just a kink Something I saw in a dream Of beauty Aphrodite esteems And maybe some ancient time You’re shape was aspired You were molded like clay And heaven laid the lines on your face I so admire Every glowing smile And forever linked In a web of my little kinks I fall hard for beauty Carved like a goddess from maybe another life When I’m drunk I wanna call you up And say, **** it let’s go elope Be my wife And I’d never say these things to your face For all you know I’m just another disgrace A missed connection, you could never give a **** For every text and every kiss that I miss And you can find something else? I wish I knew what it was Cause when I met you I just wanted to run away in the sun And find you a place that I can truly say The beauty only compares To the curl of your lips And the rose of your cheeks And the soft, caress of your kiss Forever imprisoned To find something comparable This feeling has taken me over, it’s unbearable I can only lay, here, here in the sand And hope to god a love like hers Will find me somewhere?
0
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Aphrodite Aspire
How did you get here? Perhaps there was a big bang, and so you were. Maybe you hit the ground running as fast as your legs could take you. Was it so that you opened you mouth and words poured out perfectly? Perchance all that was obtainable was already yours. My journey was not of such ease. I was birthed after hours of labor. For every step I walked I fell six times before. For months my tears and laughs were my only way of expression. My parents, as many, knew patience. Our parents, our teachers, our siblings, even ourselves: we had patience. We are here because of it. Now we can marinate our meat for flavor, but we pop diet pills for fast results. Now we can slow cook our meals, but we abuse drugs to erase our sorrows. Now we can raise a baby, but we let go of precious relationships too easily. Now we can be a teacher, but we give up on ourselves. Patience is putting in the effort for results, even when we don’t see the results for weeks, even months. Patience is choosing the narrow road, even when the wide one is less lonely. Patience is taking all the loops, kinks, and bumps as they come; and not giving up after the first couple roadblocks. Patience is to love unconditionally, even if we have to step back for a little while. Patience is all rage; we all need more of it. We are all patients for patience, but we get too sick of waiting. Our doctor was there, our remedy too, but a cheap high walked past and we chased it.
0
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
Patients for Patience
Purples and Pinks Wrapped around for your kinks Tight jeans and leather belt In your arms, I tend to melt. Shiny and black heels Off a layer I peel. My lipstick that's red Tangled together, we fall back to bed.
0
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Clothes
The wind wants to comb my har but gets tangled in its snare. my wooly bend of kinks and bends has now got them all to stare. i didnt ask for this texture but its the only one i wish to be next to. i can braid it , blade it, grow it hide it show it , its always there. right in place , it doesnt fall into my face. my barber is the best barber he can cut  it into shapes. i can tape it fade it wear it long shave it. but it will always be my **** ***** curls black hair.
0
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Windy Hair
I’ve O’D’d on Glucosamine Sulphate, so much I’m mentally scarred. It’s escalated now I’m 70… I’ve mainlined on my Senior Railcard… I bow down to the Norse God Voltarol… He eases all my pains… and there’s Deep Heat, Germaloids, even Anusol for the other stresses and strains. The wondrous Winter Fuel Allowance! That’s what lights our lamp these dark days - ahh, those twilight hours! But after the logs, it’s not Leccy or Gas we crave? No! We buy ***** with ours… the Whisky, Gin, ***** Wine, a drop of Brandy too. It all helps us numb the cold whilst memories of happier times gone by - brighten up this ****** growing old. Supplements, sterols, statins, aspirin, beta blockers… All the heart meds - life’s a battle. In the 60s it was *** and Drugs and Rock ’n’ Roll… Now there’s less *** and a lot more rattle! ****** fails to make it now - “no more”, after the last time - she said! These days the only thing it does is stop me rolling out of bed! The bus pass lets me roam the world… from John O’Groats to Land’s End. But these days I travel locally Southwick, Lancing, Steyning; oh yeh and a cousin in far Gravesend. Further afield; abroad perhaps? Well no…Back then it was Newhaven for the Continent. But now I’m over 70, well, it’ll just be Worthing for the INCONTINENT! And… did I say? Not that I was ever in the habit of measuring it you understand - or straightening out the kinks I’m pretty sure that these days - and ’no’ it’s NOT just the cold… but, your once adequate **** - it shrinks! I'm sorry...Your ******* It ain't so long!
0
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
Things to look forward to when you’re 70+! (apart from a delayed pension).
I’ve O’D’d on Glucosamine Sulphate, so much I’m mentally scarred. It’s escalated now I’m 70… I’ve mainlined on my Senior Railcard… I bow down to the Norse God Voltarol… He eases all my pains… and there’s Deep Heat, Germaloids, even Anusol for the other stresses and strains. The wondrous Winter Fuel Allowance! That’s what lights our lamp these dark days - ahh, those twilight hours! But after the logs, it’s not Leccy or Gas we crave? No! We buy ***** with ours… the Whisky, Gin, ***** Wine, a drop of Brandy too. It all helps us numb the cold whilst memories of happier times gone by - brighten up this ****** growing old. Supplements, sterols, statins, aspirin, beta blockers… All the heart meds - life’s a battle. In the 60s it was *** and Drugs and Rock ’n’ Roll… Now there’s less *** and a lot more rattle! ****** fails to make it now - “no more”, after the last time - she said! These days the only thing it does is stop me rolling out of bed! The bus pass lets me roam the world… from John O’Groats to Land’s End. But these days I travel locally Southwick, Lancing, Steyning; oh yeh and a cousin in far Gravesend. Further afield; abroad perhaps? Well no…Back then it was Newhaven for the Continent. But now I’m over 70, well, it’ll just be Worthing for the INCONTINENT! And… did I say? Not that I was ever in the habit of measuring it you understand - or straightening out the kinks I’m pretty sure that these days - and ’no’ it’s NOT just the cold… but, your once adequate **** - it shrinks! I'm sorry...Your ******* It ain't so long!
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19
Living in this yellow box filled with aging trinkets A lonely guy trying to get by just hasn't sealed the link yet Bout a cup of milk left in the fridge and God forbid I drink it A shaggy dog; that ***** hog, why can't they smell the stink yet? The junk comes barreling through the door so fast that you can blink it There's no more room for gloom and doom, but let's fit one more inkjet They just got rid of dinnerware,  a silver and a pink set So now to hoard an ancient sword, a blender and a mink set Five garbage bags of someone's clothes, the sixth one's in the sink, wet With lots of cans and pots and pans, we'll reach the jagged brink yet They're trying to let go, said there ain't no space to think yet They're workin hard to raise the bar, ain't  worked out all the kinks yet Pressed for time and low on space ****** I need to get out of this place...
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Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
The Yellow Box
Being a coach has is responsiblity When the team wins they celebrate But you keep them focused for the next game You push them to be better prepared The coach takes on all the weaknesses making them a strength When the team fails the coach know the job wasn't done right A loss means the coach needs to push and not fail again If the coach hates losing the team should feel the same way One common goal and work out the kinks everything will fall into place No hard work goes unnoticed so earn it and it will get a positive outcome
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Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 6:41 AM UTC
coach aspect
The dark side of love Claws and teeth I am hungry for you Short skirt aimed in my direction I need correction Some might say To iron out the kinks But I think sensuality for the soul Is sometimes being out of control.
0
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
The dark side of love
Why are you holding back? If only you could let go... Hard times would get easier to handle, if you just embrace the natural flow. I speak to you with a book wide open, from lines that give light to mind. I am on a journey just the same as you are, so not all that I say may be right. And as life goes on, I'll gain more sight, and know that I was wrong. Yet when the feeling comes from the marrow, I know I've held it in too long, and know it is time to write. Take those kinks out of your head and give life to what was dead and become resurrected. O sister, we connect telepathically, and O brother, I know you know there is something within us that most can not perceive. There is more of us than the grains of sands in the ocean; our hair is like that of the waves upon the sea. Just open your minds eye to who you are, let go and live naturally. But how can you know if you don't search, tell me how can you remember if you don't seek? It's time to erase the lies and unshackle the mind to the truth of your own history.
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 7:14 AM UTC
Become Resurrected
Life is not a tapestry It is a single thread The people are the knots and kinks Who just get in the way of things Of Mother Earth's sewing machine
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Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
Mother Earth's Sewing Machine
Is it a coincidence? I think not. It's not just one of those serendipitous happenings where both times we meet are budding from me ******* up. I may be staring intently at something that isn't there but I believe it's a sign just as much as the one you always ignored at the intersection. Me ******* up equals me seeing you. It's not a perfect formula but I'm still working out the kinks God, you know how I love math I'm probably just grasping at something and anything that means I can be with you for just one more instant I know you see what I'm doing here And I thank you for playing along Do whatever you will Just don't correct me when I'm wrong I'm trying to **** up
0
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Coincidence Much?
Through paper thin walls I can hear my neighbour Marigold. She starts with the same lie every time       my husband Finnegan       will be home soon       let’s make this quick. I can tell what kinks the john has paid for by the uniqueness of the name she gives her fake husband. I once asked, why the make-believe spouse? Marigold responded with delicate articulation         a girl in this line of work         needs to pretend         to have some normalcy         in her life         a reason to be kept alive. Having nothing left to conceal she lives her life like no one is watching. She leaves me astonished, wishing to live one minute as open as she lives every moment.
0
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC
Marigold (thanks)
Every day. The everyday. You see it every day. The twitch and reel and marble movement As turgid blood surfaces to face, Flows to operate stiff shoulders. Backs hunch as soon as they're alone. And they are alone. Surrounded by lovers that Love in word only. They chew their nails and cross their ankles. Uncross. And look around. Spring. Could you imagine? Gear, wire. Did he say? Bolt, frame. Isn't he? Ratchet. And then what did he say? Screws. Rotor. A bunch of **** Oil. Oil. Oil. Oil. Oil. Plug in. Silence. It moves. We move a head in times of Strain. To signify Exact measures. Twist on axis With perfect posture. Unnoticed frameworks bar our days. We are brass. The more crass are silver, gold. And the days are polish. Or maybe sand. Soon there are no mistakes. The veneer cakes without flaw. We do not acknowledge. We are not caught. For little hours though, there are kinks. Pauses. Errors. Open the clockwork face. What is stuck? A look around. The gears that grind us to cognition Are jammed by a fly-body Of soul. Soon, soon, sooner than ever It will be crushed. So gears might continue, Might make room for the everyday.
0
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 2:57 PM UTC
Electric Adjective
My mind is under the glacier Waiting for it to combust As I try to gain sanity I get propelled into madness Every time I try yo understand I only accept less Every time I confess My darkest sins Everyone else comes from within To admit their faults So I'm kicking my issues to the vault Accept that my mistakes are my fault And realize that I should never quit But I'm a defendant tryo g to acquit Please God give me strength So I don't channel my anger In the wrong way I'm trying to be good today But tomorrow is a different story Renounce my glory Only when I deserve it So far I'm not sure I have But then yet, I can be too skeptical This a search to be happy And I can't find much For now But I know I have to wait And for the impatient part of me That's too difficult to work But I do know That I have to conspire against my most loathed tasks And paint it with the pathway to what I love That's the only way I'll make it I'll survive, just give me time to work the kinks out So far I'm in prototype
0
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
Under The Glacier
whenever you kiss my forehead that adorable half-smirk stroking my hair your snicker (you know what i'm talking about) the comfort of sitting in silence you tolerate my love of books how your stubble feels against my skin walking together, hand in hand i can't figure your eye color you make my heart sing all the nicknames you have for me you're willing to work out the kinks in our relationship stroking my face 'grabbing' my nose to make me laugh whenever i catch you staring at me you'll buy me books talking about the future, our future you help me with dishes, without a complaint when you play with my hair your fingers twitch as you drift off always being so understanding about everything brushing my hair out of my face you pause your video games to talk with me every time i hear your voice on the phone, i smile like an idiot drying my tear-stained cheeks with your fingers you want to talk about anything and everything "duh" always caring about my well-being you see my perspective and i see yours hugging for a long time you want to go to church with me knowing exactly what to say (most of the time) you keep spoiling me, even though you joke snuggling together your mouth twitches before you kiss me that soft smile you get from time to time you've never treated me as an object making me feeling safe and secure whenever you compliment me you take naps on me letting me rest for a few minutes you don't make sexist jokes look how far we've come, my love and how far we have to go
0
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
why i love you
whenever you kiss my forehead that adorable half-smirk stroking my hair your snicker (you know what i'm talking about) the comfort of sitting in silence you tolerate my love of books how your stubble feels against my skin walking together, hand in hand i can't figure your eye color you make my heart sing all the nicknames you have for me you're willing to work out the kinks in our relationship stroking my face 'grabbing' my nose to make me laugh whenever i catch you staring at me you'll buy me books talking about the future, our future you help me with dishes, without a complaint when you play with my hair your fingers twitch as you drift off always being so understanding about everything brushing my hair out of my face you pause your video games to talk with me every time i hear your voice on the phone, i smile like an idiot drying my tear-stained cheeks with your fingers you want to talk about anything and everything "duh" always caring about my well-being you see my perspective and i see yours hugging for a long time you want to go to church with me knowing exactly what to say (most of the time) you keep spoiling me, even though you joke snuggling together your mouth twitches before you kiss me that soft smile you get from time to time you've never treated me as an object making me feeling safe and secure whenever you compliment me you take naps on me letting me rest for a few minutes you don't make sexist jokes look how far we've come, my love and how far we have to go
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44
Look at me.Let my skin tell you a story of pain and suffering, let my eyes give you sight and show you my history. And it's odd to me because as history goes I know of her struggle but not her name, my great grandmama's face, nor my great grandfather stern gaze. My history was ripped from me then handed back in a textbook, like a stolen jewel being given back as a gift from its captors. They try to cultivate and appropriate my culture like it's a shirt that fits them better. You asked me what I'm mixed with because you see my blackness as something to be covered. But my blackness is not ***** that needs a chaser, it is not a ***** car that needs a little whitewashing and a paint job. You asked me what I'm mixed with so here is my response; I am mixed with melanin and love swlirled into chocolate beauty. I'm mixed with strength and pride, fierce do I roar with the voice of the wise ancestors who gave birth to hope for my grandma, my mommy, and me. I am one part black and ninety nine parts victory. I am not a tragedy of circumstance I am a product of excellence. You ask me if I am mixed because you think I'm to pretty to just be black. Here's a news flash, I am pretty because I'm black! From the kinks of my curls to the dance in my toes, I am designed from the roots of the earth. In tune with its gravitational pull. Everyone knows the moon only shines in the blackness of night. Stop trying to force an eclipse because they don't last anyway, only burn out to be surrounded by the blackness once more. You asked me what I'm mixed with, allow me the same courtesy. Are you mixed? What are you mixed with? Fear, hate, rage, disgust, or shame? I don't assume any of these for a wise woman once said, " people are diamonds made up of different pressure some in different measures and if you don't know don't judge for it is not your contest." I am on a conquest of love and redemption. I won't blame you for your ancestors but I will hold you to a certain standard. So before you ask me what I am mixed with, think. Does it even matter?pretty is pretty so don't you dare come at a Nubian goddess cross eyed or tongue-tied, prepared to gain insight of her bloodline. She will shatter all illusion, destroy all thoughts of doubt. She will tell you she is black. She will say it in a song song voice because of the melody ringing in her soul when she makes this known. It will roll off her tongue like honey. For no other words ever tasted so sweet. She is a black queen. Mixed with blood and bones.
0
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 12:44 PM UTC
For The People Who Ask Black Girls What They Are Mixed With
Look at me.Let my skin tell you a story of pain and suffering, let my eyes give you sight and show you my history. And it's odd to me because as history goes I know of her struggle but not her name, my great grandmama's face, nor my great grandfather stern gaze. My history was ripped from me then handed back in a textbook, like a stolen jewel being given back as a gift from its captors. They try to cultivate and appropriate my culture like it's a shirt that fits them better. You asked me what I'm mixed with because you see my blackness as something to be covered. But my blackness is not ***** that needs a chaser, it is not a ***** car that needs a little whitewashing and a paint job. You asked me what I'm mixed with so here is my response; I am mixed with melanin and love swlirled into chocolate beauty. I'm mixed with strength and pride, fierce do I roar with the voice of the wise ancestors who gave birth to hope for my grandma, my mommy, and me. I am one part black and ninety nine parts victory. I am not a tragedy of circumstance I am a product of excellence. You ask me if I am mixed because you think I'm to pretty to just be black. Here's a news flash, I am pretty because I'm black! From the kinks of my curls to the dance in my toes, I am designed from the roots of the earth. In tune with its gravitational pull. Everyone knows the moon only shines in the blackness of night. Stop trying to force an eclipse because they don't last anyway, only burn out to be surrounded by the blackness once more. You asked me what I'm mixed with, allow me the same courtesy. Are you mixed? What are you mixed with? Fear, hate, rage, disgust, or shame? I don't assume any of these for a wise woman once said, " people are diamonds made up of different pressure some in different measures and if you don't know don't judge for it is not your contest." I am on a conquest of love and redemption. I won't blame you for your ancestors but I will hold you to a certain standard. So before you ask me what I am mixed with, think. Does it even matter?pretty is pretty so don't you dare come at a Nubian goddess cross eyed or tongue-tied, prepared to gain insight of her bloodline. She will shatter all illusion, destroy all thoughts of doubt. She will tell you she is black. She will say it in a song song voice because of the melody ringing in her soul when she makes this known. It will roll off her tongue like honey. For no other words ever tasted so sweet. She is a black queen. Mixed with blood and bones.
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4
there is attitude as strong as my own in these kinks and these coils, my Afro has a mind of its own. she stands tall when she wants, shrivel up when she’s cold. sometimes shy, she is not a people person. my Afro only communicates with other Afros. she ain’t stingy but she **** sure don’t like to be touched. don’t you try to sweet talk her when she’s in a rush. only like a wash & oils. sometimes gel and finger coils. she’s amazing, i love my twa.
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Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
AFRO
comparing bodies a (never) once (never) over from across the room sizing you up, i have such a kink for everything your body is such a kink for comparing you to me such a kink if kinks were self esteem such a kink for everything i can’t be but **** do i feel good when your body covers mine; being blanketed in hopeless aspiration, it feels sublime this perspiration, when i can’t feel the weight of what i lack only the bulk of what you’ve got
0
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
f*ck me (over)
Taken a hiatus               Unhappy with the latest                                          Words                    Put onto pages          They've not been the greatest                    Need a vacation                   Find that part that                              CAN                                Be                           Creative         Frustratingly                           Average    Make them look                            Pretty    Hide they're not                            Witty Ignore they're not                            Gritty                          Hello Poetry            When you hold a committee                          To judge me                            Take pity                          Before you                            Unleash                               Your                             Critique           Remember I'm only running at                           Fifty-three                             Percent                            Capacity                           Creatively   I think I'm due an upgrade       To iron out these kinks. Plug Me In To Sleep.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Hiatus
Taken a hiatus               Unhappy with the latest                                          Words                    Put onto pages          They've not been the greatest                    Need a vacation                   Find that part that                              CAN                                Be                           Creative         Frustratingly                           Average    Make them look                            Pretty    Hide they're not                            Witty Ignore they're not                            Gritty                          Hello Poetry            When you hold a committee                          To judge me                            Take pity                          Before you                            Unleash                               Your                             Critique           Remember I'm only running at                           Fifty-three                             Percent                            Capacity                           Creatively   I think I'm due an upgrade       To iron out these kinks. Plug Me In To Sleep.
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38
Tying off every sentence Before formation You leave so many knots to develop Forming a physical Representation Of deeper ires and darker fears Than that which crosses Daily paths So many rescinds It begins to feel Ordinary To reject and pull out Of living these Daily paths Soon the ache transcends Mentality, emotional core Shivers itself down Strips and tears itself out Emerging as A surface twitch Developing to Repetitive kinks Growing cancerous hives, you carry monstrous minds Hulking demons that force you From daily paths
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
daily paths
I've heard every line in the book, Sweet talkers and liars From both sides of the tracks. I can tell without looking, I can smell the lies on them. But there is no lying in your lines. You lighten the weight of the world with your words. If I could do for you what you do for me, I'd do it for all eternity, But I'm not eloquent like you. I spent more time getting into trouble Than learning in school. Before you, It took two glasses of wine For me to loosen up. Another cup to get me ready for bed. I used to wake up with wine on my breath, But what you do is so much better Than three glasses of wine. You are three glasses of wine, Al Green on the stereo Capable hands working the kinks out of my shoulders, And A warm mouth delivering kisses to my neck. You are a miracle worker, Because you never fail to make me smile.
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Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
Miracle Worker