"klein" poems
An era of feminism,
Which should never be questioned.
Empowering women
To strive, and strive again.
We speak of desexualization.
To free the ******
Unveil carnal harassment,
And speak our minds.
But we can be sightless
Toward the sexualization of man.
The way we view testosterone
As broad shoulders and shirtlessness.
Do not sift through my words!
I believe in the power feminism.
But I am disappointed
With the sexualization of man.
We're determined to trump the blurred *****
Yet drool over a man in Calvin Klein.
We frown upon the "Perfect Body" campaign...
But applaud a "built" man.
I wish for bodies to be just that:
Bodies.
For sexualized men and women
To be more than carved features.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
Our first date at Rise
Holding your hand at the Firehouse Theater
Eating bagels you brought back from Montreal
Having lunch at Salata
Going to the Arboretum
The way you peeked out children’s house
Cuddling on the couch
Watching Game of Thrones
When you fell asleep in my arms
Drinking Amaretto Sours
When you would be silly
The sound of your voice
The maraschino cherry stem you tied with your tongue
The Forget Me Not Flower Kit you gave me
Exchanging texts
The sound of incoming WhatsApp messages
Diner at Howard Wangs
You wearing bunny ears during Easter
36-28-41
When you posed for me
Your blues eyes looking up at me
Seeing your smile
Touching your lips
The way you smell
The secrets you would tell
Showing how you care
Hugging me tight
Letting me take care of you
When you cook Arepas
The gluten free Clafouti
The time you had the flu
Wearing Calvin Klein underwater
Your dainty feet
Your goddess like figure
Your cute accent
Typing in the door bell code
Hearing you answer
The emoji of puppy heart kitten
Knowing you are my Bijou
Calling you Minou
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
Opgedra aan ‘n kind wat gebliksem moet word.
Deur: Desperaatheid en vrees
Jy klim in en uit die ***** van bestaan,
beide die rede vir liefde en
die kind wat sy baar.
Jy is ‘n drievoud van godelike hervertellings
, want wie kan regtig liefde
in ‘n enkel sin verhaal?
Geminag , die seun van liefde en haat
- jou einste bestaan ,van die vroegste
paradoksale meesterstukke.
Verewig , verewig tot ‘n kind
tussen die Groottes wat
blindlings onder jou boogpunt swik.
Vir elke nasie ‘n ander droom
Vir elke geloof ‘n ander naam en
Vir elke mens ‘n ander god.
Amor , oh Amor!
Die sinnebeeld van liefde
wat die mendsom verbly
, maar Eros jou ramkat
jou hupse hygelbek!
Jou erotiese aanraak!
(die begeer ek)
En ek?
Met my koker van lig en van goud,
wat hulde blyk en bou en bring
maar bestorwe le voor my Laurel
oor ‘n lood-stomp pylpunt vir haar ‘n treuerlied sing!
Amor, Amor word wakker!
My son le liefdeloos in my bros hart
, wat instaan teen logika
– sterk op die oorlogspad!
Jy wat na my heuning reik
-met honger hande vieslik gryp
en ek wat jou met angel steek
in desperaatheid jou nat vel breek…
“Oh moeder”, roep die wetter na bo
vir die planete om aan te ****
“Oh moeder, Oh liefde “ ,spat die sot se treur,
“ *** kan so bietjie , so klein – so seer!”
En die heumel druis soos die moeder lag
haar humor eg , maar haar woorde sag:
“ My naakseun, my hinksperd
My fallus met vlerke!
Jy ,nog ‘n roosknop.
gaan ook so te werke!
Aanvaar die poëtiese justitie
Stil nou liefstetjie
Lamtietie Damtietie …”
Amor, Amor!
Weerstaan tog skoonheid se wieggelied
en wees my genadig!
Begunstig my ten einde laaste
, selfs vader tyd is verveeld
met die son se enkelpad!
*** lank nog wil jy sluimer?
Amor, Amor!
Tel weer op jou leisels
en bring liefde op die wind
my wereld lê in afwagting
vir die dolfyn en sy kind!
Wees my genadig, Amor!
Deurboor my leemte met goud,
,want die bringer van lig is slapeloos
en my hart is droewig en koud.
Oh Amor, Amor!
Ek weet jys nog jonk,
maar *** speel jy dollos met lewe se vonk…
Amor, Amor!
Word wakker!
Amor…
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”
Stephen Jay Gould
Give me
vacuum tube torus Lorentz-Klein interference receptors
dual noble-gas maser integration processors
at least one
prosthetic Gaussian carbon-coated ribosomal Tesla coil
an anthropomorphic hierarchical temporal meme-pseudopod
some
support vector k-nearest neighbor algorithms
reverse engineered quantum optic die-cast silica motherboards
self-assembling three dimensional electro-active protein polymers
maybe even
a superconducting spectral alkali resonance analyzer
paired with
harmonizing piezoelectric kinematic thermal modules
dipped in
subzero Kurzweil-circuit nanite neurotransmitters
and voila!
God.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
I can't support the smell of fried chicken
or the taste of fries
I can't stand the fizzy drinks
or the muffins or the pies
all this junk food they push down my throat makes me sick
it slowly kills my good taste
it crushes my creativity
it turns me into a big fat pig
I barely remember your smell
only when the night is quiet
and the moon shines in silence
I can recall the taste of Euphoria in your neck
that perfume that used to light this brume
and recharge my lungs
that perfume that I barely remember
but I miss it so much
in the end
all I got left is this disgusting smell of mine
over that sweet fresh fragrance
by Calvin Klein
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
I am a thousand different things
I'm people, objects, nature, animal
I'm woman, man, girl, boy, child
toddler, baby, foetus
I'm all you could dream of (not) wanting
I'm all you wish you were (not)
I'm (your) anger, sadness, fear, regret
I'm (your) happiness, joy, hope, love
When I write, I'm a character
fiction, autobiographical, biographical
I'm lived, burned, broken, insane
I'm madness, virginal, loose, free
closeted, bi-curious, let's wait it out and see
I'm intrigue, a passer by,
I'm the observer, the observed,
voyeurism, peeping tom, negative film
Moss, McQueen, Klein
I'm art, symbolism, post-modernism,
I'm poetry; written and spoken
I'm the woman you read of; her
I'm the girl who made you cry
I'm full to the brim of (your) inspiration
I open doors to the past, then slam the door
in your bright doe eyes
I close doors to my future, and sneak back
through cracks in the floor,
just to get back
I laugh in your face, and burn holes
in skin at your absence
I kick dirt in my eye, then cry wolf
blinded,
I'm the severest of contradictions,
I say yes at no, no to yes,
I decide on impulse, and cry on cue
Beauty, romance, love, lust
poetry,
all the questions I am made of
I answer in the written word
mute,
You only know me,
(if of course you dare)
by reading my rhymes,
(non judgmental stance)
and loving me regardless,
(don't expect perfection)
If you're going down
the same road
start today,
face your demons,
be the contradiction.
© Sia Jane
--
*"So unimpressed but so in awe
Such a saint but such a *****
So self aware so full of ****
So indecisive so adamant
So rock and roll, so corporate suit
So **** ugly, so **** cute
So well-trained, so animal
So need your love, so **** you all"*
Robbie Williams - Come Undone
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-laire—nil nisi divinum stabile
est; caetera fumus—the gondola stopped, the old
palace was there, how charming its grey and pink—
goats and monkeys, with such hair too!—so the
countess passed on until she came through the
little park, where Niobe presented her with a
cabinet, and so departed.
Burbank crossed a little bridge
Descending at a small hotel;
Princess Volupine arrived,
They were together, and he fell.
Defunctive music under sea
Passed seaward with the passing bell
Slowly: the God Hercules
Had left him, that had loved him well.
The horses, under the axletree
Beat up the dawn from Istria
With even feet. Her shuttered barge
Burned on the water all the day.
But this or such was Bleistein’s way:
A saggy bending of the knees
And elbows, with the palms turned out,
Chicago Semite Viennese.
A lustreless protrusive eye
Stares from the protozoic slime
At a perspective of Canaletto.
The smoky candle end of time
Declines. On the Rialto once.
The rats are underneath the piles.
The jew is underneath the lot.
Money in furs. The boatman smiles,
Princess Volupine extends
A meagre, blue-nailed, phthisic hand
To climb the waterstair. Lights, lights,
She entertains Sir Ferdinand
Klein. Who clipped the lion’s wings
And flea’d his **** and pared his claws?
Thought Burbank, meditating on
Time’s ruins, and the seven laws.
3.2k
I have spent most of my life
walking through department stores.
I have come to feel that
Bill Blass, Ralph Lauren, and Calvin Klein
are close friends.
I ride the escalators for exercise.
I have become a professional cologne tester.
I check my credit rating daily;
American Express knows me
by my first name.
I have been married and divorced three times--
to two mannequins and a sales clerk.
I got stuck once in a revolving door
during the entire "Summer Madness" sale.
During annual clearance I inadvertently
got marked down to $42.50,
but due to inflation,
I have regained my worth.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 5:43 PM UTC
80 degrees in the shade
with a breeze
by a pond with a fountain
sprinkling
overalls over calvin klein
underwear
on a thursday afternoon
in the summer
far away from an old home
closer to a new home
free,
free,
free
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
Real Love
Love can be so very strange,
life you must now rearrange.
Butterflies in the tummy,
clam chowder is so yummy.
Naked massages, magic touch,
finger tips, I love so much.
When not home, I get lonely,
nothing about us, is a phony.
You're my very best friend,
I text you and hit send.
We fight more than we should,
I'd fix that if only I could.
Laying naked in the bed,
cuddling with you, no more said.
We were two halves, that became one,
my hot dog fits perfectly in your bun.
We never kiss and tell,
******* make us yell.
What's mine is also yours,
even my brand new fishing lures,
What's yours is also mine,
I don't quite fit in your Calvin Klein.
We share and share alike,
together we face problems,
that are headed down the pike.
Nothing can tear us apart,
I rode in a bus, and you in a **** cart.
On the day that we wed,
that night we will have a wet bed.
We will live happily ever after,
Lots of trust and a little laughter,
So if you ask me what is real love,
I don't know, but something not to get rid of.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
and oddly enough, H is the only letter in the alphabet that can accommodate vowels the easiest, and subsequently laughter. well m can too, but it's more of a jolly hmm in between sudden outbursts of h and co.
and on Sunday i get to read
about a prince moaning
quote: 'at home on my arse'...
oi oi ***** Harry, where the magnum?
call on Clint Klein and head into the eastern woods!
'there be a bowl of spaghetti there waiting for ya'
the leprechaun said.
ah a job, ah a family, ah George the usurper
of attention seeking girlies...
10 years in the army, and then bust,
using a Ouija board to stop being
employed by McDonald's;
but hey! it's Sunday... can't a price have
his day?
god, this humour is so cheap
it's almost gagging
for canned laughter,
but it ain't getting any, shame,
and double shame for Fawlty Towers using it,
whatnot and what care for all that "famous"
intelligent humour of the British ballot box,
supposedly... if that **** is intelligent & funny why use
such horrid precautions (psst... laziness)?
slapstick does it for me, means i can be intelligent in
other mediums.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 11:59 AM UTC
*Darkness covered the skies,
While my body was restless with the tides.
I tried not to wait for the sunrise,
Because, it just reminded me of your eyes.
I remember holding you in my arms,
While surrendering to the stars,
Hoping to never fall apart.
The touch of your hand with mine,
The smell of Calvin Klein,
The taste of cherry wine,
Intoxicating me inside.
I didn't see this in cards,
Or the rolling dice in our hearts.
I imagined a future,
With the definition of forever.
But, now I see-
We were never meant to be.
When tomorrow comes,
Without the taste of ***
We will find someone.
Now it is time for me to go,
And leave this pain for the runaways-
So, Goodbye, my Summer's Day!*
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
Jy hou van die manier waarop sy jou naam troosvol uitgespreek het na 'n swaar dag wat jy gehad het.
Jy is lief vir *** sy jou bekommernis verlig met elke woord wat sy sê dat jy nie presies kan vind *** sy daarin slaag om dinge wat jy nie kan uitdruk nie, uit te druk.
Jy hou van *** haar teenwoordigheid jou op jou reënerige dae troos en warmte gee.
Jy hou van haar klappergeur wat in jou kar hang nadat sy saam jou iewers heen gery het.
Jy hou daarvan om die geluid van haar lag te **** wat die leegheid van jou wêreld vul, soos simfonie jou uit die leemte haal.
Jy is lief vir *** sy gedigte geskryf het wat jy altyd weggevoer het, *** hulle gewys het hoeveel sy jou liefgehad het.
Jy hou van die manier *** haar klein vingers met joune verbind is, *** dit jou laat voel het dat jy die is wêreld waarna sy draai.
Jy is lief vir *** hierdie woorde die helderheid van die sterre diffundeer en *** hulle in die konstellasies hierbo vervang.
Jy hou van die manier waarop sy haar lippe saggies die besonderhede van jou gesig spoor soos 'n veer wat sy tydelik in die golwe van die wind laat dryf.
Jy hou van die geluid van elke strook van die potlood wat sy gemaak het toe sy die kruiswoorde wat jy op jou tafel gelos het, opgelos het, en besef dat dit nooit reg was nie, maar om na haar te kyk, was 'n antwoord self.
Jy is lief vir *** sy alles vir jou gemaak het, so erg dat dit jou laat verdrink het.
Jy is lief vir die idee van liefde wat hierin gevorm word.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 5:11 AM UTC
I step out of the bathroom, the soft yellow light casting a trail from the doorway out onto the carpeted floor of my bedroom. You're sitting criss cross in my bed, your elbows resting on your knees. You look up when you hear the door open.I cross my arms across my chest and walk towards you, hoping the lighting is merciful. You push your legs out so that they dangle over the edge of the bed. I position myself between them as my hands trail up your legs.
I'm not wearing make up because I feel that you'd prefer that I didn't. I'm wearing my pink Calvin Klein bra with the lace trim and my black partial lace, partial mesh underwear. I feel self conscious, but resist the urge to ruin the moment by making fun of myself. I'm not waiting for you to say something to make me feel pretty. I don't need you to when I see the way you look at me.
You help me up into your lap so I'm straddling you. You lie down on your back and stare up at me. I'm comforted in knowing you're just as nervous as me. But the nervousness isn't the bad kind - but exciting. The alt-J album An Awesome Wave is playing softly in the background. I recall adding Intro to my Little Death playlist and laugh under my breath. Your hand reaches out to caress a tendril of my hair. I feel your touch from my split ends, to my roots, and all the way to my fingertips. I do my best to keep them from trembling. But knowing you're just beneath me has a way of making my entire body pulse in anticipation.
I want you. I want to feel you. I want you to feel me. I want it to feel unnatural when we're clothed together. I want you to hear all my noises and show me all of yours. I want our bodies to move in time to the music. Eyes closed. Sensations have a way of making you see. And I see all of you tangled up in all of me.
The music swells. The drums. Guitar. My body feels like an instrument in your arms. Your hands. Exploring my notes. Play me and I'll sing loud. Fingertips between my lips. Mine. Yours. Mouth on mouth. Mouth on neck. mouth on chest.
Your mouth tastes of gummy turtles.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
broken glass embedded in backs
causing blood stains on crisp Calvin Klein shirts
from wrestling limbs on kitchen floors
licking ears as sassy retribution
for passive agression
and acts of contrition
greasy hair
unshaved legs
fur
on fur
mouth
on mouth
on moleskin
on holographic jewelry owned by us
bougie bohemians
highbrow artists
--with--
low-maintenance interests that include
blow, opiates, fringed scarves, "velvety",
all the pills you can fist into your mouth,
a wannabe lou reed, your friends' band,
and **** **** ****** **** gallery openings.
Take a picture, it won't last as long as this work day
but we have to have our money for the water--after the eight ball and taxi, of course.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
So word ons wakker in ons tent en dit reen...aggenee!! Maar dis koel en ons voel gelukkig.
Ek is vuil, so amper dat ek wil huil, maar huil van lekker soos n krekker want dis vakansie tyd!!
My hare is so waar deur mekaar, maar wat maak dit saak want niks gaan my keer om vir n gogga te wys *** deur mekaar ek rerig kan weesie...
Tanne geborsel en room half gesmeer, laat die dag begin want dis ons en ons ford bakkie die keer...alweer...
Kies n rigting en so voeter ons daarin...
Saans kom ons by die kamp moeg geploeg die bosse in om nou rustig te raak met n koeldrank in ons hand.
Dan word n vuurtjie gemaak deur die braafste ou ini land om n vleisie te braai vir die fraaiste meisie, hand aan hand.
Mens voel gou dankbaar vir klein dingetjies soos n stort... n warme een, die oop velde of selfs die digte bosse, die veld blommetjies so geel of die gras so lank en groen, die voels so mooi volle kleurrig en die jakkals so skaam maar nuuskirig.
En wanneer dit donker word le daar baie voor soos die uile se geluide, die sonbesies wat hulle vlerkies saam klap of dalk n hihena wat na oorskied kom krap.
So geniet ons die bos vol avontuur gepos net vir ons en ons se dankie aan ons Skepper vir n skepping net vir ons. 2016/03/14
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
My obsession lays only with Calvin Klein.
A proper noun with capitals.
A drifting strong aroma.
Another obsession in my world.
Is sometimes somewhat lighter.
I am an obsessed pusher.
Obsessed only with my pen.
If I can create an image well.
Then hell so be it.
Real people I don't like much.
It's only words I wish to touch.
Desire fires obsession.
It's just a bunch of words.
Sweet strawberries so succulent bring words of summertime.
Clouds weigh down around my head
Dark winter days of misery.
Moments when I wish I was dead.
I put my pen to work.
Writing darkness scarily black.
About bursting eyes.
Where no-one dies,
Except emotion cruelly slaughtered.
By the one known only in kindness.
As the smiling devil's daughter
Definitely no relation.
Just the mother of eccentricity.
Kindness in persona.
To be so dark.
That's very rare.
In a heart that's ribbon bound.
I write my words with tender care.
Sometimes, just to remind the world that I am still there.
Moreover, like a hornet.
I cheese you off and get stuck in your hair!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 6:28 AM UTC
Half formed shallow glances across the dawn
Breaking in crisp spring
a hunter means harm
(say it back)
Precious slanted words in crushed song
Landing slowly, raindrops cling
The sidewalk is long
(breath we lack)
Slaughtered bouquet petals in Central Park
Burning acidic in the winter light
Our sun is victim to the dark
(Gilded armor cracks)
Aimless gallivanting learns to command the heart
Inspired: the reckless wilderness can ignite
villains and matchsticks to spark
(Absence means love lacks)
and if all letters are to crash like hailstorms
why write and feel and fill
the blank parchments with potential eardrums
whose souls we make anxious- ill?
and still
the alive will die or ****
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
if self improvement was ************
I would be ******* everywhere*
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
Machmal denke ich günstig für nicht sein,
Denn ich kann nicht zu viel sehr gut machen.
Ich bin zu klein, zu kurz, and nicht klug
Nicht friedlich genug, oder zu verrückt und komisch.
Meine Geschwister meinten das ich bin sehr ägerlich.
Aber meine Freunde hat etwas anderes sagen.
Sie denken ich bin nett and freundlich,
Lustig and vielleicht schon,
Und ein absolut Schlauberger.
Ich glaube sie fast nie,
Aber ich beginne zu sie glauben.
Sometimes I think I'm good for nothing
Because I cannot do too much well.
I am too small, too short, and not smart
Not peaceful enough or too crazy and weird.
My siblings think that I'm very annoying
But my friends have said something else.
They think I'm nice and friendly
Funny and maybe pretty
And an absolute smarty pants
I almost never believe them
But I am beginning to believe them.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
Enter through the double doors and it will hit you
A one of a kind, nothing like you ever smelled before
You will know where you are even if you’re blind.
Plug in air fresheners filling all the outlets through out
With a fragrance of fresh cut nectar filled flowers.
Masking now the true scent of the repulsive chemicals
That fill your body and flush you till you run clear.
Stronger the smell, stronger my fear
The closer I come to the lower room
The deeper I inhale.
Expanding my lungs to capacity and hold as long as I can
Setting up my writing room next to the dead is my plan.
Nickel silver oil lamps eight feet tall
And a matching tear soaked blue velvet prayer alter
Worn out from carrying all the weight from the mourners
Will be my only light and seat as I sit and write.
Thumbing now through a hard cover book
That sat in there for many years
Eyes closed and close to my nose
I fan the pages as fast as I can go.
Polo, Taylor, and Calvin Klein,
They used to be a favorite
Pores now sweat a strange new lovely kind.
(CARSr.6-19-12)
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
skuld
skuld
skuldenaar
dit suis vanaand
in tolbos tale
rond-en-wind-ge-foeter
oor ‘n dor doer pad
‘n uitgestrekte stoftong
lek geraamtes
tot aan die silwer koppies
in die Klein Karoo se maan
skuld
skuld
skuld–in–aar
is Ma ‘n vreemdeling
wat staan en tee drink
in ‘n ander vrou
se blou kombuis
skuld
skuld
skuld–in–haar
al starend na die krake
weerspieël die vensterglas
‘n aarde broos
verbrokkel
maar
die reën sal kom
my kind
die reën sal kom
profeteer die roes–rooi wolke
al loeiend in die wind
sal Ma staan
onmiskenbaar
soos ongetemde buffelsgras
gewortel en gegrond
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC