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"liquefying" poems
365Nectar #60 Devour Me Fri. November 22, 2013 9:18 P.M. Devour me... A provocative passionate pouring of pillaging and plundering... A pleasing prowling of a piercing plunderer... A lovely, limp nymph laid upon a sizzling alter... Smoldering... Awakening all the senses a choking of lust unleashes exhilarating and envelops you... Effortlessly evoking ethereal... a sinister seduction seductively seduces and hungry hips breakdance with hysterical Stimulating a surreal surge of a sweet seeping... waiting... impatiently... For you to chisel an unimaginable devouring... S slow steady climb to the summit of the ultimate ****** Time- Time- Time... a tool to employ flamboyantly... immediately... eargerly... Expose my conquered heart that leaks of streams of cream of succulent sensation... Expose my tamed moistness that whispery whines as you build a legacy of torturous licking.... Seductively... Slithering in spicy spirals of stirring screams from stormy shivers of steamy anticipation of your redefining touch... Suddenly... drowning in the sticky sensation of all that is us... A tender luscious love liquefying flesh and penetrating souls... We blend in blazing bliss tapping taboo for titillating thrills you rock a rowdy ravishing inside me... I whisper wet whimpers and beg for bitten breast... Our wrestling hips hug, ***** and groan a hungry growling... Pounded into saturated submission I linger in lubricating dreams for you- to... devour me.
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Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Devour Me
*deep in the heart of the forest magical moments mystify all boundaries deliquesce liquefying i surrender soaring towards the sky i'm inside your skin the whole of your soul i am you and you are me the path to peace is dissolving i to we (c)2016janetaylor
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Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
in the heart of the forest
Not a day in your life, war have your eyes witnessed You lay safe, secure, in your ignorant pocket of peace But their memories play before your eyes and their nightmare dance on your eyelids The chop of the fan blades remind you of the planes, menacing overhead and dropping fire from the sky The popping of kernels from the microwave wring forth panic-- Duck! They’re shooting! Duck for cover, you fool! The book, it merely fell, but was it truly a book? Or was it the boom of an artillery cannon? Screams of glee mingle into screams of pain. Your best friend, why don’t you reach out and save him? He’s only a few yards away. He’s in such pain, don’t let him die alone. Don’t let him die like this. Don’t let him die. Stepping in the puddles makes your skin crawl. You remember their blackened skin, rotted flesh. You step out of the water quickly. The open water is calm. Peaceful. Under the surface you can see them, the submarines. You move away from the shoreline. Your friend, hugging you from behind-- it’s their hand, just their hand. There was never a knife. They are your friend. Or are they? The memories. They’re not yours. Whose are they? Why do they tremble like tenor in your mind, ingrained in your DNA? The blood on your hands is not there, open your eyes! The jungle, the desert, the forest, the wasteland. You’re not there, you were never there. The blood on your hands is not there, open your eyes! Now the dark, it's suffocating. This is not your world of cracking rawhide and dirt. You were not there, this is not your reality. That white jacket should not make your breath hitch! That burning cross should not terrorize you so! Now the dark, it's suffocating. This is not your world of fabric stars and canvas trucks. You were not there, this is not your reality. That red armband should not make your breath hitch! That fire should not terrorize you so! Not a day in your life has this world brought its ugly head to look you dead in the eye and breath upon you, noxious breath liquefying your lungs and dissolving your eyes. You are safe-- that blood on your hands is not real-- you are safe-- this is not your reality-- how it terrorizes you so! These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. They are theirs, their memories, and you see them every time you close your eyes. These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. They are not yours and they never will be.
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Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
Memories
Not a day in your life, war have your eyes witnessed You lay safe, secure, in your ignorant pocket of peace But their memories play before your eyes and their nightmare dance on your eyelids The chop of the fan blades remind you of the planes, menacing overhead and dropping fire from the sky The popping of kernels from the microwave wring forth panic-- Duck! They’re shooting! Duck for cover, you fool! The book, it merely fell, but was it truly a book? Or was it the boom of an artillery cannon? Screams of glee mingle into screams of pain. Your best friend, why don’t you reach out and save him? He’s only a few yards away. He’s in such pain, don’t let him die alone. Don’t let him die like this. Don’t let him die. Stepping in the puddles makes your skin crawl. You remember their blackened skin, rotted flesh. You step out of the water quickly. The open water is calm. Peaceful. Under the surface you can see them, the submarines. You move away from the shoreline. Your friend, hugging you from behind-- it’s their hand, just their hand. There was never a knife. They are your friend. Or are they? The memories. They’re not yours. Whose are they? Why do they tremble like tenor in your mind, ingrained in your DNA? The blood on your hands is not there, open your eyes! The jungle, the desert, the forest, the wasteland. You’re not there, you were never there. The blood on your hands is not there, open your eyes! Now the dark, it's suffocating. This is not your world of cracking rawhide and dirt. You were not there, this is not your reality. That white jacket should not make your breath hitch! That burning cross should not terrorize you so! Now the dark, it's suffocating. This is not your world of fabric stars and canvas trucks. You were not there, this is not your reality. That red armband should not make your breath hitch! That fire should not terrorize you so! Not a day in your life has this world brought its ugly head to look you dead in the eye and breath upon you, noxious breath liquefying your lungs and dissolving your eyes. You are safe-- that blood on your hands is not real-- you are safe-- this is not your reality-- how it terrorizes you so! These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. They are theirs, their memories, and you see them every time you close your eyes. These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. These memories are not your own. They are not yours and they never will be.
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26
and he does not think it strange, watching two hours of the hottest hip hop, in freezing cold surround sound air, returns home to a medium warm bath, where the drink served, icy cold vitamin water, liquefying the mournful, dismal~gloomy, lugubrious poems of lost love he finds under his hello poetry pillow, that gives no one relief, neither to the writer or the victimizer and he does not think it strange reads strange takes n' poem tales from Avenida Paulista, but his body dances to an Argentine milongia melancholia, a contrast and a contest, his heart asks where is Patagonia, as the Arctic Vortex melts into the bath water and he does not think it strange for he know, he knows that this makes little sense, but perfect sense to the poet-man, try to see it his way, there is a fussing and fighting inside, that cannot be worked out and he does not think it strange but this be the funk groove of his extra ordinary life wherein his body and heart, and hundreds more, can be held aloft on a single wrist with fluid ease, if allowed and he does not think it strange when he says, aside aside fellow dancer, and he does not think it strange, he wants you to understand for that, you must be be beside beside, fellow dancer
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
and he does not think it strange
Full of Hope and yet it found me, Hopelessness somehow seeped through my walls. It penetrated the mortar that held my house together. And I feel all alone while the people outside beckon to me. Incredibly brilliant and yet unbelievably stupid, The retardation of one seemingly trivial act disgraced my heart. It’s like an acid, liquefying the bricks and dripping onto my shoulders. It stings like a whip and exposes my flesh as I wait for time to heal. Popular and yet abandoned, People say that I have it easy with the life I have, but I hardly call it living. Loneliness is a disease I caught from the cut called "closure" she gave me. Finally my house is gone, And I see my amazing life with all of my potential and all of my friends And yet… The sting of love clings to me.
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May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
And Yet... By David Messmer
No more time for pain. Tear stains. Or sobs. Shrieks at the top of your lungs! Frustrated fidgeting, Or furious dialect. The true depths of sorrow, unreached yet, Shall remain unexplored. The heights of fury and rage, Shall be another days venture. (Or hopefully never). Visions of disliked visages, Traitorous touches torturing the thoughts, Lustily leaving lover and friend Twitching, Writhing, Boiling, Melting, Rotting, And congealing into a puddle of humanity at the knowledge of their philandering. Numbness sinks through the dermis, Hiding hints of heartbeats, Silencing skins sweet sensations. Breathing, But barely. No time for sensation, Emotion, Expression, Interest, Thought, Muttering, Mentioning, Murmuring, Meditating. Reform some semblance of humanity. No time for languishing, Luridly, Lethargically, Liquefying. Only enough time for a little poetry. And then, Hopefully, Life.
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Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
No More (time)
I hear the roar of your truck engine as you wait patiently atop my driveway I slide on my sandals hurriedly, slip out the door Dressed in a loose, ripply top with my favorite shorts Bouncy hair and glowing skin Edible fragrances dripping off my figure, into your nostrils, in which drag themselves to the lobes of your brain, the taste buds of your tongue And you With your golden rod complexion, form-fitting black t-shirt, exposing the contours of your sculpted chest, loose Bermuda shorts Complementary ball cap and aviators The faint hypnotic smell of sweat and my favorite cologne that compliments your natural aroma perfectly A playlist of songs reminiscent of old memories Singing Dancing Laughing Crying Beats on my eardrums "Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round!" Our vocal chords stretch like rubber bands as we scream to these memories in motion The beach is reserved for our use, or so we pretend Together, we are alone on this small strip of land I run to the sand, allowing my toes the comfort of such a familiar feeling White hot, burning, tingling, relief within seconds as the warmth conducts and disperses across my skin I unbutton my shorts and pull my top over my head, run to the waters edge in hopes of pleasure, alleviation from the gnawing humidity, liquefying my bones   I submerge my head, fogging my mind, allowing complete relaxation to fill my entire being I find you beside me as I surface for Oxygen Beads of lake water cover you cheeks like melted snowflakes You stand there, naked next to me, your clothes at shore Your hands search my back, find the fasteners of my bra 1 2 3 un-clipped by your hungry fingers, which now travel to my hips Tugging at the thin, lacy fabric covering my innocence Now, in your palm And with your other palm you beckon me back to the sand as you say, with tender breathlessness, "You're beautiful" In which I believe you as I lie upon a sandy towel As you carefully lower yourself upon me As our fingers interlace And our lips, thirsting for lust, bind together We are one We are love
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Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
Summer
I hear the roar of your truck engine as you wait patiently atop my driveway I slide on my sandals hurriedly, slip out the door Dressed in a loose, ripply top with my favorite shorts Bouncy hair and glowing skin Edible fragrances dripping off my figure, into your nostrils, in which drag themselves to the lobes of your brain, the taste buds of your tongue And you With your golden rod complexion, form-fitting black t-shirt, exposing the contours of your sculpted chest, loose Bermuda shorts Complementary ball cap and aviators The faint hypnotic smell of sweat and my favorite cologne that compliments your natural aroma perfectly A playlist of songs reminiscent of old memories Singing Dancing Laughing Crying Beats on my eardrums "Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round!" Our vocal chords stretch like rubber bands as we scream to these memories in motion The beach is reserved for our use, or so we pretend Together, we are alone on this small strip of land I run to the sand, allowing my toes the comfort of such a familiar feeling White hot, burning, tingling, relief within seconds as the warmth conducts and disperses across my skin I unbutton my shorts and pull my top over my head, run to the waters edge in hopes of pleasure, alleviation from the gnawing humidity, liquefying my bones   I submerge my head, fogging my mind, allowing complete relaxation to fill my entire being I find you beside me as I surface for Oxygen Beads of lake water cover you cheeks like melted snowflakes You stand there, naked next to me, your clothes at shore Your hands search my back, find the fasteners of my bra 1 2 3 un-clipped by your hungry fingers, which now travel to my hips Tugging at the thin, lacy fabric covering my innocence Now, in your palm And with your other palm you beckon me back to the sand as you say, with tender breathlessness, "You're beautiful" In which I believe you as I lie upon a sandy towel As you carefully lower yourself upon me As our fingers interlace And our lips, thirsting for lust, bind together We are one We are love
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41
Everything and more that’s what I’ll be We have all night yet still to go So close your eyes and lose control Bodies twisting, arching at a thought Cause when I kiss your neck I touch your soul Sweat your body covers Nails digging into flesh Squeezing me so tightly Never let me go Closer still as one we grow Falling deeper into yen Minds dreaming of what’s next Bodies acting in response Dancing to the rhythm of our hearts Folding, bending into lust’s decree Slow and deep our bodies rise and fall In your eyes I see my word liquefying into bliss In the way you bite your lip and moan As lust changing - morphing into Something so unreal yet so profound...
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Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 9:37 PM UTC
Wicked Thoughts (Part II)
I want to ask God why he made heartbreak feel like a heart attack Why I feel sharp pains radiating from my chest - All the way to my fingertips In short bursts The pain liquefying into numbing dust I feel the aching up through my neck - Into my ears My eyes start to water - Not with tears Almost like dirt had been blown into my face I lose feeling in my legs And the air dissipates from my lungs All from seeing a half empty carton of raspberries in my refrigerator
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May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
raspberries
Hi. My apology is sterling and my sorrow is veritable. I know you have forgiven, but have not forgotten. Dear, believe me, I never meant to be a harm or a spot of bother. I wish things could simplify and flow as liquefying as the word hi.
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Jul 25, 2011
Jul 25, 2011 at 3:09 PM UTC
Hi
you are the falling leaves and i'm the pond. one bye one you're falling to me, covering me with your dry brown skin until i'm no more seen until you're slowly liquefying, you being one with me. i being one with you. you and me being us.
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Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 7:27 AM UTC
you and me and us
An Eternal Shrugging of the Shoulders I am writing this poem in the dark this is why I apologise to all who will read it some words might overlap others some letters might remain flat I know my message risks to arrive truncated to its addressee for that matter I feel how some lines are liquefying as if my eye itself flows in them presumably in the day when light will come back this page will be a heap of signs a hill lodged by ants or even by more evolved beings capable of praying however, the drama I have lived will remain without a voice the secret I wanted to hand down to you with this poem will be an eternal shrugging of the shoulders Matei Visniec translated by Manuela Chira
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May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
"At Marx's Table"
We walked down the sidewalk with our eyes set towards the elongated skyscrapers, while we stumbled and lost our footing in gaping sidewalk potholes. Each extinguished and singed our disheveled sneakers. A bird, perched on the stoplight, found my gaze and sawed in half the barrier between our minds with all eight talons, hungry for a sturdier connection. The car horns synchronized their stammering chants and buckled our ankles like marionette horses. They escalated until we could see each vibration pulse from the windows, liquefying the glass and homogenizing salad vinaigrettes. The waters, collected in the sewers, began to rush into their respective reservoirs and pool at increasing velocities. The excess bubbled up through the drain covers, costing our feet in fresh rain from yesterday's storm. Every vent coaxed heated steam through its pours and the condensed warmth reached our fingers, yearning to steal the precious gemstones encased in our jewelry. We were invited to become the new asphalt, to replace the neglected pieces begging to retire to the gravel pits outside of town, recycling them into new beings and begin again the birthing cycle of the city.
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
The City's Pulse
Time has its hands around my neck, strangling me. A diamond clock around my neck like Flavor Flav, hanging off me, pulling my head down to the dirt. The tortuous second, an arduous minute I grind my teeth at the passing hour. I squeeze each passing day, holding tightly, but it always escapes between my fingers, liquefying and dripping through, evaporating. Wake and pace, I wake and begin to pace. Weaving a trail through the leaves at my feet, the meadow floor becoming my revolving door with only one exit, a blinking red sign flashes, its arrow pointing directly down imprinting itself in my pupil. Sing the song of the day! Whether it be swaying morning Jazz or a night owls rhythmic hoots, sing it loud and let it ring, for you never know the last song you will sing. Walk in circles, hum the tone, whatever it takes to get you past that glaring sun high in the sky at each passing noon.
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Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 8:45 PM UTC
Flavor Flav
I am not a circle, I walk at will Yet they howl as if I am a globe spinning still In daylight they wait patiently, the hours they count For night to fall, their moon to surmount Yet its presence wavers without warning still Despite its light an element none can **** The clouds halt unforgivingly before it and silences their song Disconnecting the lovers from their tradition lifelong Yet I gave myself liquefying as water of some sort And the great light was what was in thought Reflecting the Sun in the moons place Giving the song back undisgraced I step aside without hesitation, veil removed And I seek no acknowledgement for a Faith long proved
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Sea Under Sky
I was outrun by shooting stars And sideways shuffles into russian bars, And liquefying in the back seats of cars, Plotting maps from mercury to mars. But I'm still tryin' to make the words fit; *It all sounds like **** It all sounds like ****
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Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
Running Out Of Ink
I am the liquefying touch Of boundless intrigue, The thin coating Over the map of anthropogenic Wisdom, the thick seas Dividing lands and soil, The clear droplets That slide down windows, Burst with energy, Coagulate with brotherhood. I divide people, I join masses, I scorch the Earth And I flood its plains, I drink the verve Of fallen comrades, Expiate the sorrows Swollen with God's irate shouts And I shake the Earth's core, Pour my brethren upon Boundless grasslands and plains. I am ambivalent emotion Sprung from fountains Of unobtainable youth, Spry and fresh like grateful pride, I am light in darkness, Confounding isolation, Unbearable dissociation, Conceivable admiration, But most of all, And this rings true, I am life itself And I stick to everything Around me and you.
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
Everything
Two worlds collide en masse they yield so fine like lips smacking, our fingers tapping en route to greater design. caress our flaws stroke the doors into our unconscious mind. dive deeper with a kiss explore exquisiteness both penetrate and yield gasp, laugh and squeal now we close our eyes and lick the inner thighs bubbling to excess unlock the inner goddess the magma will explode the red rain does now flow scalding and softening dissolving, engorging and pulsing flowing, infusing and liquefying until deaths                   delightful                                        deliquesce. mmmmmmm... prlummmmmbra brinta, recapture our rapture and play precognitive display emerges and surges our bountiful urges forming our boundaries from this fuck-filled foundry blossomed and ready for today
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Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 10:46 AM UTC
Merging
spirit, smoldering fire body, unbound waves liquefying touch dulcifying lips she made me fall in love in only ten words
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
Her Body is a Story
you lay beside me, reading Hemingway breathing the words into the 2 a.m. darkness eventually, i no longer listen but i hear every pronunciation, every syllable off your tongue it is the most beautiful sound i have ever been blessed to feel feel - because i feel your sentences, diving into my soul like a cannonball into my heart your speech has seeped into my brain, liquefying every emotion, and it floods the interior of my head it is such a pleasure to be touched by your voice
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
hemingway
An other day. Walking. Making the all planet spin. To get there. That moment. And the one moment I can not reach. Walking. Drowned in craving. Forbidden wishes. Time washing away the chance to be. Hold me. Hold me, in the filled silence of love. To kiss you, shivering, liquefying. Pain. To sleep. To reborn as a child. Lover man! Would you choose me? The mercy of love. Walking. To die before sunset.
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Walking