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I.

Thou aged unreluctant earth who dost
with quivering continual thighs invite
the thrilling rain the slender paramour
to toy with thy extraordinary lust,
(the sinuous rain which rising from thy bed
steals to his wife the sky and hour by hour
wholly renews her pale flesh with delight)
—immortally whence are the high gods fled?

Speak elm eloquent pandar with thy nod
significant to the ecstatic earth
in token of his coming whom her soul
burns to embrace—and didst thou know the god
from but the imprint of whose cloven feet
the shrieking dryad sought her leafy goal,
at the mere echo of whose shining mirth
the furious hearts of mountains ceased to beat?

Wind beautifully who wanderest
over smooth pages of forgotten joy
proving the peaceful theorems of the flowers
—didst e’er depart upon more exquisite quest?
and did thy fortunate fingers sometime dwell
(within a greener shadow of secret bowers)
among the curves of that delicious boy
whose serious grace one goddess loved too well?

Chryselephantine Zeus Olympian
sceptred colossus of the Pheidian soul
whose eagle frights creation,in whose palm
Nike presents the crown sweetest to man,
whose lilied robe the sun’s white hands emboss,
betwixt whose absolute feet anoint with calm
of intent stars circling the acerb pole
poises,smiling,the diadumenos

in whose young chiseled eyes the people saw
their once again victorious Pantarkes
(whose grace the prince of artists made him bold
to imitate between the feet of awe),
thunderer whose omnipotent brow showers
its curls of unendured eternal gold
over the infinite breast in bright degrees,
whose pillow is the graces and the hours,

father of gods and men whose subtle throne
twain sphinxes bear each with a writhing youth
caught to her brazen *******,whose foot-stool tells
how fought the looser of the warlike zone
of her that brought forth tall Hippolytus,
lord on whose pedestal the deep expels
(over Selene’s car closing uncouth)
of Helios the sweet wheels tremulous—

are there no kings in Argos,that the song
is silent,of the steep unspeaking tower
within whose brightening strictness Danae
saw the night severed and the glowing throng
descend,felt on her flesh the amorous strain
of gradual hands and yielding to that fee
her eager body’s unimmortal flower
knew in the darkness a more burning rain?

                    2.

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring
assembles beauty from forgetfulness
with the wild trump of April:witchery
of sound and odour drives the wingless thing
man forth in the bright air,for now the red
leaps in the maple’s cheek,and suddenly
by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress
ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

On dappled dawn forth rides the pungent sun
with hooded day preening upon his hand
followed by gay untimid final flowers
(which dressed in various tremulous armor stun
the eyes of ragged earth who sees them pass)
while hunted from his kingdom winter cowers,
seeing green armies steadily expand
hearing the spear-song of the marching grass.

A silver sudden parody of snow
tickles the air to golden tears,and hark!
the flicker’s laughing yet,while on the hills
the pines deepen to whispers primeval and throw
backward their foreheads to the barbarous bright
sky,and suddenly from the valley thrills
the unimaginable upward lark
and drowns the earth and passes into light

(slowly in life’s serene perpetual round
a pale world gathers comfort to her soul,
hope richly scattered by the abundant sun
invades the new mosaic of the ground
—let but the incurious curtaining dusk be drawn
surpassing nets are sedulously spun
to snare the brutal dew,—the authentic scroll
of fairie hands and vanishing with the dawn).

Spring,that omits no mention of desire
in every curved and curling thing,yet holds
continuous *******—through skies and trees
the lilac’s smoke the poppy’s pompous fire
the *****’s purple patience and the grave
frailty of daises—by what rare unease
revealed of teasingly transparent folds—
with man’s poor soul superlatively brave.

Surely from robes of particoloured peace
with mouth flower-faint and undiscovered eyes
and dim slow perfect body amorous
(whiter than lilies which are born and cease
for being whiter than this world)exhales
the hovering high perfume curious
of that one month for whom the whole years dies,
risen at length from palpitating veils.

O still miraculous May!O shining girl
of time untarnished!O small intimate
gently primeval hands,frivolous feet
divine!O singular and breathless pearl!
O indefinable frail ultimate pose!
O visible beatitude sweet sweet
intolerable!silence immaculate
of god’s evasive audible great rose!

                    3.

Lover,lead forth thy love unto that bed
prepared by whitest hands of waiting years,
curtained with wordless worship absolute,
unto the certain altar at whose head
stands that clear candle whose expecting breath
exults upon the tongue of flame half-mute,
(haste ere some thrush with silver several tears
complete the perfumed paraphrase of death).

Now is the time when all occasional things
close into silence,only one tree,one
svelte translation of eternity
unto the pale meaning of heaven clings,
(whose million leaves in winsome indolence
simmer upon thinking twilight momently)
as down the oblivious west’s numerous dun
magnificence conquers magnificence.

In heaven’s intolerable athanor
inimitably tortured the base day
utters at length her soft intrinsic hour,
and from those tenuous fires which more and more
sink and are lost the divine alchemist,
the magus of creation,lifts a flower—
whence is the world’s insufferable clay
clothed with incognizable amethyst.

Lady at whose imperishable smile
the amazed doves flicker upon sunny wings
as if in terror of eternity,
(or seeming that they would mistrust a while
the moving of beauteous dead mouths throughout
that very proud transparent company
of quivering ghosts-of-love which scarcely sings
drifting in slow diaphanous faint rout),

queen in the inconceivable embrace
of whose tremendous hair that blossom stands
whereof is most desire,yet less than those
twain perfect roses whose ambrosial grace,
goddess,thy crippled thunder-forging groom
or the loud lord of skipping maenads knows,—
having Discordia’s apple in thy hands,
which the scared shepherd gave thee for his doom—

O thou within the chancel of whose charms
the tall boy god of everlasting war
received the shuddering sacrament of sleep,
betwixt whose cool incorrigible arms
impaled upon delicious mystery,
with gaunt limbs reeking of the whispered deep,
deliberate groping ocean fondled o’er
the warm long flower of unchastity,

imperial Cytherea,from frail foam
sprung with irrevocable nakedness
to strike the young world into smoking song—
as the first star perfects the sensual dome
of darkness,and the sweet strong final bird
transcends the sight,O thou to whom belong
th ehearts of lovers!—I beseech thee bless
thy suppliant singer and his wandering word.
onlylovepoetry Aug 2018
[tongue taking taken prayer]

come worship in my temple.
your tongue gowned by silence,
thy teasing vibrations disperse my slack, exchanging
it for a rigidity that is even softer, looser,
an improvement possibility impossible incomprehensible

the noises of freedom from anonymity is thy silenced tongue
unleashed, teasing, speaking tongues unrelenting and unremitting  and unforgotten for they never were
learned or incapable of being self-taught

my pleasure sprouts mushrooms in my loamy foam,
thy rainfall nourishment, seed plant growing life morning borne,
thy tricked up sonnets played within my hearts harp,
tunes never known but come from the land of plenty,
my new promised land

teach me where the apostrophe goes, the comma and
why the question mark is curved and dotted like my body,
why we need punctuation to separate the first from the next

trees weep as if every dry rain petal is instantly imbibed,
wanting more for my swollen by thy ministrations,
I cry out
my ice storm, my thunder, embalm me within the
electric spreading in my veins shocking steady constant

thy name thy name I beg to give thee a name
to understand what has befallen me


you can call me by my favorite of
all my seventy two,^
your first baby squeals and
even now in human manufactured agreed upon symbols, (words),
every utterance a prayer heard and answered

my name is a heated and unbroken
hallelujah,
I am thy god, and you, darling you,
my beloved
^https://www.chabad.org/kabbalah/article_cdo/aid/1388270/jewish/72-Names-of-G-d.htm
RIKKI Jan 2013
I’m anxious about my two loose front teeth.
Every time I lick them, they get looser and looser.


I keep checking with my tongue if they’re still loose and each time I do, I make them looser and looser.


I close my mouth tight to stop.
But the clenching is a catalyst for two soft, dull snap snaps and the teeth are out,
lying on my tongue

and so I swallow them.


All that night, I’m sick,
imagining the two teeth chomping and chewing up my insides.

The tooth fairy comes anyway.
Rara Rhaux Dec 2018
-They say; I'm crazy, They say; I'm weird
 Some say's; I'm serious, Some think; I'm strict
 But don't you see, how all it goes
They're all me, my personality shifts

-Some see me like this, some see me like that
Some thought I was this, some thought i was that
 You won't know, whom you will met
 Coz I got it all, my personality shifts

-Happy and sad, i can feel it once
 In the middle of my problems, i can laught and dance
 If you think im crazy, i do not mind
 Coz my personality shifts, works just fine

-They call me this way, They call me that way
 Every one I met, gaves me so many names
 Its alright with me, if that's how they see me
 'Coz I have a plenty of personality to shift

-Silent but loud, I describe my self
 If i confused you, Its not my problem
 I don't have an attitude, please don't hate me
 I just got a personality you hardly can't handle

-My thoughts won't end, but this poem near does
 Let's start a friendship forever will last
 Not an enemy, I will hated that much
 You will be the looser, over the personality I has.

@mhierah_07
121814
watty
riju basu Sep 2014
iam not a soldier , neither a saint
                            iam a looser
                   and that's my only fame
                  my journey will never end
                and i will never heal my pain
  i want to wake up , and fight with the demons
                       that i always feared


                         iam still a coward
                              iam insane!
MdAsadullah Nov 2014
My enemy let us compete,
in game unique, offbeat.

This is my father's vintage gun,
using it we'll have some fun.

Rules of the game let us fix,
bullet is one, chambers are six.

Rotate the chambers putting bullet in one,
where is the bullet will be known to none.

Pointing each one's head in turn,
we'll pull off the trigger one by one.

At the very outset brain can rend
or game can go till the very end.

Six times of nervous ******
is enough to make the projectile burst.

With anguish and pain looser will yell,
very soon his soul will reach fiery hell.

Winner's anger and hate will get a vent,
future will give him enough time to repent.

My enemy let us compete,
in game unique, offbeat.
Blood, gore
***, *****
High, drugs
Thief, mugs
Anger, harm
Cut, arm
****, *******
Looser, *******
*****, ****
Slutty, shunned
******, ugly
Smart, nerdy
Stupid, dumb
Perfect, come
Gay, handy
Ignorant, trani
Black, ******
White, *******
Lost, dog
Fat, hog
Illegal, immigrant
Immoral, rent

Discriminate
Hate
Procrastinate
Fake

We all give labels to everyone
All of us, let's have some fun
Let's go out and **** someone
Who hurts you, don't let them run

Make all pay for labels begun.
Little moist drops of heaven
       Trickling down my throat
    The heavenly burn,
                   delicious
Synonymous with an Angel's wings
               fluttering in my esophagus
     Liquid lightning, striking
          Almost blasphemous
 A devilish game of Russian Roulette
              With four shot glasses,
   Three rogues and one gent
Emotions getting looser
    Clothing getting tighter
           The taste becoming
     Sweeter
          Liquefied demon tears
Playing a wicked game
            with my insides
    Putting a beautiful curse on my mind
             Melted Whiskey Raindrops
     Sending shivers down my spine
           This hellish war of love, hate and
                    Intoxication
   Has never felt so
                  *Divine
K Balachandran Jan 2012
blame it on the  warped yard sticks,
a problems we often overlook,
not in every case , I am convinced,
about the idea of winning and loosing.
at the end came an announcement,
the one supposed to have won,
and the looser were presented,
but, looking at the spirit and
exaulted state
that points to the higher consciousness,
one felt convinced, the declared looser
has really won.
looser, astonishingly was gracious
that he could have the experience,
that counted more than wearing the laural
with a vacent smile.
what if someone has won,
and that has no consequence
on none, except the one
who beams believing
winning is the greatest thing.
Asa D Bruss Feb 2015
It's one of those days; those days when you feel like a looser.
You feel like there's a pressure pushing in
from people who are busy;
who are better by their busy bodies
budding and boiling over,
filling the life you try to look through with steam,
and as the pressure builds, you
sit and sweat and worry,
trying so hard to hurry.
"What to do?"
You'll say,
and in the end you'll stay;
stay in that sultry salty sweaty *****-up that you are.
Cuz on that day you feel like a looser. You realize
you built your life like a pressure cooker,
not a steam-engine like you wanted.
Am I just a lazy ***? Am I normal? Am I behind? It's like I'm chasing a bell curve, just trying to hang onto the tail end of it.
nichole r Jun 2014
one day my teacher asked me
why I always wrote in lowercase letters
her glasses perched on the top of her beak
she squawked,
"you were not taught that in school, young lady.
it is not proper, young lady."

and I gripped my pen tighter
or maybe a little looser
it's hard to tell lately.

but I looked in to her black beady eyes
and disapproving frowny face
and whispered "see how I am whispering
do you see how you are leaning closer
like I have a secret
more intimate, correct?
that is my writing:
an intimate secret.
for you"
aj Oct 2018
the notes you gave us were so carefully written

cooling
gentle
forgiving

you brought power to the quartet
calm inside calamity were you and your fine fine swaying

looser than your own spine you were swaying side to side
heavy
to the point of light
but your expression was still heavy

your expression was cooling
gentle
forgiving

backed up behind everything
but you are here and you are genuine

haphazardly composed; playing

to me
you might as well be everything
tread May 2013
in looser terms, your lips touched mine.
slowly. an unrushed parade of sleepy dancers all lost on psychedelics.

more than that, I wrote you a poem.
this poem, and plenty more, all of which you saw and smiled to, during the writing of which you were the 'only' on my mind and Frank Honesty nodded in approval even when my words could bite.

in looser terms, my ***** pressed slowly into your ****** while you drifted from careful to carefree.
slowly. an unrushed parade of sleepy dancers all lost on psychedelics.

more than that, I dreamed you a dream.
this dream, and plenty more, all of which you saw and smiled to, during the dreaming of which you were the 'archetype' on my mind and Frank Honesty nodded in approval even when my words could bite.

you break my heart as often as you make it.
that is the way of true love, I suppose. or the test before the rest.

and Frank Honesty knelt next to me, wine tilted in one side-finger past and away from my body.
he whispered;
'all it takes is a dose of life
and you'll come back to life.

she loves you more than you could ever know.

you know you love her just as much.'
Sarah K Sullivan Oct 2014
Desperate kisses in a crowded room.
Murmurs of a promise into an ear.
A room full of people all moving as one,
                                            Breathing as one.
One being: hot and sweaty.
Loose minds and even looser bodies.
Trembling lips, swift hands,
Hot.
        Breathless.
                           Blurry.
Moments of reckless love.
                                                  Lust.
Not­hing to gain.
                             Everything to lose.
Nothingness. Loneliness.
The tragic weight of an empty heart.
Aching for a touch. Touches.
Lusting for strangers across a dark room.
Blind. Deaf. Mute
We wait.
                  We wait.
                                          We wait.
Finding solace in the empty gesture of lust instead of love.
      Chained to dumb hope.
                                                   Chained.
                        
                           Forever.
dareujoe Dec 2014
I'm writing lines
in hopes
that
one day someone will see
the unspoken way of things.
I was down on the frown
down, sinking
as things got deeper
i got darker
the more i opened
the looser this vacuum seal go
but not
without consequence.
random flurries in my head
in my head
in my head
everyone is left for dead,
in my head.
Mr Ketchup Felt all alone Because Sweet Potato Face had gone to visit her Sister in Blue yonder valley, and Mr Ketchup needed to go Christmas shopping as it was so close to  December He really needed to get cracking
Mr Ketchup picked up the telephone from the small table in the hall, one of the legs from the old worn table became a bit loose and Oh dear Mr Ketchup hadn't been a ware of the wobbly leg becoming even looser. Just has he was about to pick up the telephone the cat became lodged in the middle of Mr Ketchup's feet and the leg on the coffee table gave way and Poor Mr ketchup went flying up in the air and
landed with a mighty thud on his face.
Some hours had passed and there was a loud knock on the front door.

"hello a voice required." it is Haggis and Neaps.
Lying on the floor in the hall way groaned Mr Ketchup, little did they know How long Mr Ketchup lay there before they arrived..
Haggis removed the key from under the roughened brown mat and put the spare key into the lock and let himself in with Neaps.
"What on earth has been going on here said haggis".?......
"I'd better put the kettle on, and make you a hot cup of sweet tea it appears you have had quite a bad shock with the fall."
"Now Now said Haggis do keep still so that I can control the bleeding
We may have to call a ambulance to take you to hospital"
"Oh please stop fussing," will you  am not going anywhere."

Well has you can imagine Mr Ketchup was quite a stubborn person
if he didn't want to do something he just shrugged his shoulders and simply refused to do it....
At last Neaps had made a brew and soon they forgot about the mishap.
they were planning next week to go Christmas shopping at yellow market
and for a bite to eat, but if Mr Ketchup has his way, he'd  not be paying for any of it except his Christmas shopping..


Finally Mr Ketchup felt much better, All morning he had looked for his wellington boots and his red  rain coat. He must have pulled out the whole cupboard of odd boots,     he stumbled across his   black wellington boots. At last he thought he counted all his silver coins, and he had twenty five pounds he put the cash into his pocket and quickly grabbed his coat and shut the door behind him.
At last Haggis and Mr Ketchup arrived at Yellow Market to do their Christmas shopping.
moments later Mr Ketchup picked up a beautiful locket for Sweet Potato Face, but changed his mind and bought her a neck-less instead, Meanwhile haggis waited patiently for Mr Ketchup to finish his Christmas shopping..

Oh bother replied Mr Ketchup as he pulled out empty torn pocket
and Oh Dearie me  all his loose silver had gone.
"Oh Dear what ever shall I do now I don't have enough to pay for the
rest of my Christmas shopping and what about my dinner, he sighed.? "
Come come now Mr Ketchup I lend you something until next week but please be more careful we don't want any more mishaps today, come and I will treat you to lunch this time."
Mr Ketchup secretly grinned to himself had he pulled a fast one just have to let you work that one out.....wont we ?
Karina Roman Dec 2013
Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am  I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.  
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I  have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me.  Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.
Abby Lock3 May 2017
I stare at the ice. My cheeks are burning, my hands are trembling. She looks at me staring at it. I look away quickly but look back at the ice when I see her head turn. She knows I need it. I see it melting in the cups she is setting out. Water. I need water.

Beside me is the wing, and a propeller is thrumming so loud it's making my head ache. I can imagine it spinning so fast the separate prongs are a blur, but I cannot see them move. There are windows in front of and behind my seat, but just far enough away to where I cannot easily see out of them. Just the red of the wing at a glance. A glimpse of white, and the red.

She steps towards me... but stops at the row in front of me. Water? She taps another woman's knee. Would you like some water? Oh! No. Was her response. What? I think.  But it's free. She's giving it to you for free. I'm next. But then she turns away. Heads back towards the front. Noooo... she will offer me some?

Beside me the engine keeps thrumming and humming and drumming into my ears, into my head. The whole cabin shutters and squeaks and groans. A bolt is spinning loudly somewhere behind me. Maybe turning looser and looser until it falls off completely. This entire tin can is a *******. I am stuck inside the biggest *** toy ever created. We are vibrating up in the clouds, but who are we bringing pleasure? We are just the ones unlucky enough to get stuck inside.

Finally she turns to me. She is holding a tray full of tiny water bottles and small cups of ice. Water? She asks. Ice? Umm... both? I test her. She barely nods and hands me a plastic cup and a bottle. As I take them from her the coolness from the ice cup caresses my hand. Ice. Slowly I pour half of the tiny bottle into the tiny cup, watching the liquid. I take a sip and savor the taste. Water.

After a few sips, I dip my finger into the cup. Just the very tip. I take the droplet and smear it across my cheek. Then the other cheek. Cool, and refreshing on my flushed and burning face. Then it's gone. She comes back later and asks. More water? More ice? Yes. Both. This time I am not as careful; I pour as much of the bottle into the cup as I can. I'm holding the lid with one hand and the bottle with the other. The small plastic cup is clenched between my thighs. I try to set the bottle down after ******* the lid on but it falls the the floor. I lean across to pick it up and feel the cold. My water is spilling into my crotch, soaking my pants. My ****** feels cold and it's nice. Very nice. It is sad that all the water will be evaporated by the time we land.

After so much water I need to ***. I look around then stand slowly. Two steps forward. She steps aside. I grasp the door handle and step in, closing it after me. My hip touches the door and the other side. My elbows hit the walls. I turn around and ***. No sink to wash my hands. The room is stuffy, worse than the cabin. The smell of my own ***** is so strong I stifle a cough. When I flush, blue liquid seeps down from the top to the hole that opened for my waste. That's normal. But it keeps going. And going. Stop! I think. There's been enough water already wasted. As soon as I start to manually stop it, it shuts off. Good. I grab a sanitized napkin, rub it between my hands then go back to my seat.

The funny thing about this all, is that I am sitting in 3A. That is in the second row. This... this is first class.

Ironic. This is. Flying up so high and free... but still needing water. No matter where you go you need it. But even more ironic, is that when I crane my head back to look out the widow, I catch a glimpse of the ocean beneath us. So much water that we can't drink.
This is an experimental prose piece I wrote about a flight I recently took. (I was flying United btw.) The things that happened in the story are true, if a bit dramatized. Let me know what you think about it! I would love to hear your thoughts on this experimental piece :)
Conor Oberst May 2012
You turn on a spindle
You're so much looser now, but you're not explaining how you gained such new repose
I touch the clasp of your locket with its picture held
Some secret you wouldn't tell but let it choke your neck
So we imagine a darkness where all shapes divide;
solids changing into light with burst of heat so bright
Well fine, don't you do what I want you to
Yeah, don't degrade yourself the way I do
because you don't depend upon all the **** I use to make my moods improve
Near a sea of pianos there were waves of chords
that crashed against the shore in one huge and useless roar
and there were girls bringing water;
like a dream, they came to cure the fever of my brain
and soothe my burning throat
And they made me a necklace, hanging beads of sweat on a string of my regrets
and placed it around my neck
And they were singing, don't you do what you wanted to
Yeah, don't destroy yourself like those cowards do
Maybe the sun keeps coming up because it's gotten used to you
and your constant need for proof
Dennis Scherle Jan 2014
Drip drip drop
I watch the blood run dwn my leg then pool on the bathroom floor in one spot
Drip drip drop
I lock the door so i wont be caught
Drip drip drop
I lock the foor so i wont be stopped
Drip drip drop
I look at my leg this is for my flesh as i carve n F
Drip drip drop
This is for the ******* remarks in place i carve an A
Drip drip drop
Im done with being called an idiot accedentally so i carve an I
Drip drip drop
For everyone who called me a looser or laughed i carve an L
Drip drip drop
People who made me feel useless this is for you as i carve a U
Drip drip drop
This is for those who made me realize what i am so i carve an R
Drip drip drop
This ones for me the last letter i carve an E
Drip drip drop
I lay in the tub watching the water run red replaying FAILURE over and over in my head
on to new things Dec 2013
I don't care about you anymore...all I was to u was someone u could use as ur *****.
The problem is the only ***** is u.....why else would u prey on women the way u do???
U use them to satisfy ur own greed....*** the one who. Sleeps in the bed with u isn't fofilling all that u need...
Its too bad that ur so selfish and use others so u can bust a nut......try being truthful instead of a ******* lying ******* ****.
Its really sad that ur so ******* intelligent.....but u have no love in ur life.....even ur chick at home thinks u both have a life......only if she even knew who u really are.....
One day shell wake the **** up and finally see what a ******* dissrespectful lying looser mother ******* ******* ******* u really are....
Ewww....I feel better now.
judy smith Apr 2016
From fairytale princess gowns to feathery mini-dresses, bold skinny trouser looks and showgirl sequins, Bridal Fashion Week had something for brides of every size, shape and style inclination.

White reigned, as did classic silhouettes to please the most traditional bride. For everybody else, there were splashes of color, plenty of fluttery floral applique and sparkle, sparkle, sparkle.

Highlights from the Spring 2017 collections:

CHRISTIAN SIRIANO FOR KLEINFELD

After a smaller, capsule collection for the famed bridal shop, Siriano teamed with Kleinfeld again on a broader range.

His show stopper was a pricey pink ombre ball gown with a sweetheart neckline and skinny straps. As an evening wear designer, Siriano said bridal was a natural fit. He created in a range of sizes up to 24 or 26 — and a range of price points from about $3,500 to about $19,000.

Noting most dresses can be modified, he showed a lot of sleeves. There were long lacy ones on a column gown and a structured, off-the-shoulder pair in satin, embellished with tulle and strings of pearl.

One of his mermaid gowns included cascading ruffles. He used four tiers of ruffle at the bottom of a white, tailored suit jacket with matching boot-cut trousers.

Siriano also offered a range of hem lengths, from well above the knee in an appliqued mini to a fitted tea length with an ornate high neck and dramatic train.

In a backstage interview, Siriano said he's enjoying his first full push into bridal with the 27 pieces for Kleinfeld after focusing most of the time on evening.

"But the customer is so different," he said. "There's not as many rules. You can get away with trying new things, doing new things. It's a little fantasy dream world."

And what will Siriano wear when he weds his longtime boyfriend, Brad Walsh, at their Connecticut house this summer?

"I don't know. Literally we've got nothing," Siriano laughed.

INES DI SANTO

This was a **** runway dominated by sheers holding lots of floral creations in place. Romance meets sensuality is how the Toronto-based designer likes it.

While many of her looks were fit for royalty, complete with extra-long trains, she also ventured into over-the-top. An ultra-short hem with just one long lace sleeve had tulle skirting that skimmed the floor in back and leggings mismatched with floral embellishment, offering the appearance of one bare and one covered.

Spring itself was her inspiration this time around.

"The flowers, the garden, the beautiful trees, the sky, the sun," Di Santo said in an interview.

There were other vibes, in a sleeveless illusion Palazzo romper, for instance, with an encrusted bodice and dramatic detachable bell sleeves.

"I went very soft, romantic. You can see through the layers of the lace, the legs, the tulle," she said.

Like other designers, Di Santo included fit-and-flare looks along with sheaths, A-line silhouettes, halter necks and princess ball gowns.

Her backs and necklines were often illusion style, offering a barely there appearance. She included open bolero jackets for brides looking for a little cover, along with detachable skirt options for those who want to change up the outfit for the reception.

At the core of any bridal collection, Di Santo said, is how the dress speaks to budding love in marriage.

"It's so important," she said. "You can live without many things but you cannot live without love."



OSCAR DE LA RENTA

Designer Peter Copping is making his mark gradually at the storied Oscar de la Renta label, with a mind toward both preserving his predecessor's legacy and modernizing the label in his own way. In his bridal collection, Copping included some looser shapes — not everything was cinched tightly at the waist, princess-style — and even some short bridal gowns.

"I was thinking of the different women who are brides and the different ways women can get married," Copping said in a post-show interview, "because it's not always the same rules or traditions that people are looking for. So I think it's important within the collection to have a good cross-section of dresses, some short, some big columns, a real mix of fabrics."

Indeed, some of the gowns featured the sumptuous, extravagant embroidery for which the house is justly famous, and others featured much subtler embroidery for a more modern look.

"I think it was really just having a complete range of dresses," Copping said. The most striking were two short numbers, a nod to the popularity (and danceability) of shorter lengths, even if you can afford the big princess gown. "Yes I think it's popular," Copping said of the shorter length, "and I also think it's very relevant for rehearsal dinners, where a woman can still feel bridal the night before."

A highlight of the de la Renta bridal show is always the impeccably attired little children modeling flower-girl designs. "Having children here reflects what a real wedding is," said Copping.

And then there was Barbie.

Guests were sent home with the de la Renta Barbie doll, wearing a strapless white lacy column gown with a light blue tulle overskirt — something blue, of course. And in case you were wondering, under the skirt were some teetering white heels. No flats for this miniature bride.



REEM ACRA

For a bride looking to be just a bit daring, visible boning in corseting lent a uniqueness to some of Acra's fitted bodices.

There was an abundance of drama in ultra-long trains and encrusted sheer overlays. And Acra, too, offered a variety of sleeve options, including a web design on a snug pair that ended just above the elbow. The design, almost twig-like, was carried through to the rest of the full-skirted look.

Many of her dress tops were molded at the chest, bustier style, while she played with the lower halves. And some of her silhouettes fit tightly across the rear, sprouting trains where some brides may not feel entirely comfortable sporting one.

Acra put a twist on other trains, creating them to detach and also be used as veils. And she went for laced-up backs, both high and plunging, on some dresses.

In an interview, she called the collection "very airy, very light." Indeed, the stage lights during her show shone right through some of her dresses.

For the edgier bride, one who might appreciate the James Bond music Acra used for her show, she offered an unusual embroidered illusion gown adorned with pearls, white jewel stones and metal grommets.

Today's brides, she said, "have to have fun," adding: "She can't stress out about her wedding. Enjoy the ride and be the bride!"



MONIQUE LHUILLIER

There were lingerie-inspired elements here, too, with a touch of color in rose, pistachio, antique ivory and caramel. There were pops of fuchsia in bloom applique fitting for the outdoor garden where she staged her show.

Lhuillier decorated some organza gowns with hand-painted floral designs in asymmetrical layered tulle and silk organza. Deep necklines were prominent, with simple slip dresses offered along with bohemian gowns of lace and sheer skirts. Lhuillier also used corset bodices paired with cascading tulle skirts.

The collection felt like a chic romp, complete with high slits for a run through nature.

"My woman this season is in love and care free," Lhuillier said in an interview. "A little bohemian but just carefree."

The only clear trend in bridal these days, she said, is the need for designers to present more options.

"My core bride is somebody who loves femininity, she loves tradition but with a modern twist. And she wants something interesting with a lot of details," Lhuillier said.

There's definitely more fashion involved than when she began in bridal 20 years ago.

"One of the main reasons I got into the bridal business was when I was a bride in 1994, looking for a gown, I thought the options were so limited, and there was not a lot of fashion ideas," Lhuillier said.

Her bride doesn't want to be weighed down, however.

"She wants to look effortless," Lhuillier said. "But she wants to feel **** on her wedding day."

Are we all romantics on our wedding day?

"For me it's a really happy business," Lhuillier said. "We all are romantics deep down inside."



Associated Press writer Jocelyn Noveck contributed to this report.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
Infamous one Jan 2013
youve been there before but it didnt workout accordingly
step back and view the situation from a never angle
you keep coming back and will not be denied
you want to return to once was and when the world felt just right
pants were looser weight gained from all the stress
return to the social world with out feeling rejected
make your own path because the way things are dont work for you
find those true friends that you could depend on
not phonies who hang when having troubles with their partner
a true friend is your partner in crime
helping you up instead of kicking you down
you make your way isolated and along
but for once things feel right not worrying
or seeking approval but doing and feeling whats right
Kelly Kamuso May 2013
We aren't keepers anymore.
They've stopped taking us home to meet their mothers.
They mask our names with cute little lies in their cell phones.
They take us out, but only after dark,
when we disappear into the walls
and camouflage into the bar stools.
With every drink, our eyes dance darker,
our lashes grow longer,
our lips flush redder,
our hair flies wilder,
our hips swing looser,
our nails dig deeper.
We leave the Madonnas alone in their wicker beds,
fading smaller into the back of their minds,
as we slowly take over.
With our foreheads kissing theirs
and their lips brushing ours,
for the night, the Madonnas are the ones that meant nothing to me, baby.
For the night, they're ours forever.
For the night, they will never let us go.
We almost forget that in the morning,
we aren't keepers anymore.
on to new things Dec 2013
I don't care about you anymore...all I was to u was someone u could use as ur *****.
The problem is the only ***** is u.....why else would u prey on women the way u do???
U use them to satisfy ur own greed....*** the one who. Sleeps in the bed with u isn't fofilling all that u need...
Its too bad that ur so selfish and use others so u can bust a nut......try being truthful instead of a ******* lying ******* ****.
Its really sad that ur so ******* intelligent.....but u have no love in ur life.....even ur chick at home thinks u both have a life......only if she even knew who u really are.....
One day shell wake the **** up and finally see what a ******* dissrespectful lying looser mother ******* ******* ******* u really are....
Ewww....I feel better now.
Ste Jan 2018
The Devil
makes you go hungry
and he fills you with greed.
The Devil whispers in your ears
until they both bleed.

The Devil
is the one that makes
you want to throttle your bird,
you can find the Devil at the
bottom of a bottle I've heard.

The Devil
is to blame, for your pain and your loss,
he fills you with rage,
and the Devil is your boss,
when you work  like a slave for
minimum wage.

The Devil
fills your glasses
and he empty's your cup,
That dark lord will make you
commit benifit fraud,
and he is the one,
who grasses you up.

The Devil
makes you stray,
with no regard,
for what your doing
to anothers life,
and while your away,
the Devil's in your house
giving it hard, to your wife.

The Devil
makes you bold
and he does fill you with fear,
the Devil turnes the young old
and can turn a strait man queer.

The Devil
took your daughter,
and turned her into
a wrinkled old hag.
Round our way, a piece
of the Devil is bought for,
ten pound a bag.

The Devil
never stays at home
and never will he rest.
The Devil is the one who
gives you a loan,
and charges double interest.

The Devil
is the one who the police pursue
he is the one that they do chase,
unless  the one on the run
happens to be you,
then dressed in blue,
the Devil you will face.

The Devil,
when the loneliness
can't be taken anymore,
he comes and disconnects your phone.
Need time on your own,
then the Devils banging on your door
and he just wont, leave you alone.

The Devil
resides, in your ex's eyes,
he made them say those words
that were not true.
And the Devil's already got his claws
into the next one, to tell you lies
and get thier filthy paws on you.

The Devil
makes you repeat what you've heard,
he makes your lips looser,
and next time someone's slandering you,
maybe its because they've had a word,
with Lucifer.

Yea the Devil is everwhere
but there is a way to get him of your case,
and tell him you'll see him later.
Grab that Devil by the horns,
look him in the face,
and tell him you belong, to the creator.
Harry J Baxter Nov 2013
That being said
we give as good as we get
don't stop at neon red hands
nothing but green go men
across clay and goshen
behind the Siegel center
Don't go to was with rams
a play pen ain't just for the kid
we need playpens for grown men
so I play with my pen
while I wait for my beer to get here
Don't point fingers at me
I cut looser than amateur directors
I cut looser than sad teenagers
never reaching the veins or arteries
with a BAC over 9000
I grew up on the internet
but tonight I throw up in your bathroom
and thank you for keeping the towels laundered
cheers for tonight
may tomorrow never come
Kvothe Apr 2015
When she found him,
he was a brittle bag of broken.
Drawstring taut.
Tight.
Holding thoughts that went unspoken.
Opening up isn't easy,
though they say it is in theory.
When putting it in practice,
words slowly flow uneasy.
But she found her way to his heart,
started to slowly pull it's strings.
Looser and looser.
And now his words he sings.
His spine was cracked,
so she blu-tacked it back together.
His mind, a map they scrawled
on scraps of black leather.
Bandaged his ego and plastered his past.
A perfect example of a person well matched.
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HR Beresford Jan 2013
oh.
My heart is a deck
with vein blue grip tape
and you are the wheels.
The trucks get looser
and looser
and before I know it
I am
swerving
across the white line,
dipping into love
like it’s a bike lane.
I cannot steer
with you
holding my hands.
The sun is a retired drum set
beating
on my shoulders,
your hands
land on my hips
with the sound of cymbals
murmuring.
Our melody is silent
banging,
the sweat
and the blood pressure,
the only remnants
of the music.
I remember the day
when we went out
for a drink

or two

I remember it so vividly
in this old box of mine
that rests wearily
upon my shoulders

I recall taking you back to work
                
                                   "I'll pick you up at eight"
                                                                I said to you

I did

Then of course
we called up the old gang
you and I
and went in search
of mayhem
loose women
and looser talk

Not much on the former, eh, o' buddy o' mine

Oh no, but plenty of the latter
which is usually
the case

You had just been introduced
to a **** cider
that you gulped like a drowning musk rat
then you were sick
and we called out
the
staff
                                    who hurried and hustled
                                    with a bucket of their finest
                                                                          tap water

I watched in hysterics
as I patted your back
and watched the street lights
as they made your innards glisten

                                                     AND THE SHINE!

Oh, that perfect
shine
as the water washed away your remains

Poetic foreshadowing I am afraid, mate
as a bucket called Cadillac
washed up your remains
many years later
over the asphalt

                                                 AND THE SHINE!

Oh, that perfect shine
that a once pure immaculate light that was your enduring spirit
had waned
long before the wax melted.
Enoa Oct 2018
The underbelly of the beast
Exposed
Is just more context
Tucked away
In looser corners of a mind
Void of lilac sunsets and
Airport poetry
And your belly
Hollowed out through the hips
By all those generic lovers
Doesn’t need more fundamentals
Only acid dreams of desert symmetry
HHT May 2015
Here is a story, not different from others,
just to confuse you and make you wonder,
it is not much, so dont expect anything at all,
its a story about a joker and his downfall.

well lets begin from the beginning,
before the start,
lay a joker, thinking about his past,
He kept on laughing at his own jokes,
decided to become a comic for the good 'ol folks.

He kept on laughing and made others laugh,
he finally made a name but got caught in a raft,
the wind was agaisnt him and so was time,
the water rose high and destroyed his climb.

Now the smile turned upside down,
its just a demise of another clown,
it was the same, everyone kept of laughing,
except the joker, who wouldnt stop crying.

his identity became a horror,
a waste of society,
his existance was now
a story of gory heirarchy,

Irrational being in an imperfect world,
he is a reflection of some of the whirls
he is the one with no possible partner,
a looser in life but a skillful carver.

he is the joker, a killer,
a master, a cheater,
he is the joker near his end
he is the joker.......
She
Note to stranger:

Don't let her long eyelashes fool you
Stemming off from eyelids filled with promise
Pupils composed of green and brown paint
Mixed and made permanent by the look on her face when you ask her what love means to her

Because to her
Love is an antique promise
Tic Tac Toed into her shoulder blades
Another lost game

Lonely is made apparent by the reveal of her hipbones
Sticking out from the belt loops on the waistband of her dreams
Her clothes become looser

She is welcomed by friends to parties that she refuses to go to
Because even in a room of people
The only emotion she is capable of feeling
REALLY feeling
Is lonely

And you may argue that lonely is not an emotion
But a state of being
But when she truly feels it
Lonely becomes both

Discolored tulips growing for a flowerpot of unfertilized dirt
Masked by a smile that could fool anyone
Even her own father
Sometimes even herself

Mascara stained floor tile
Quick change scenes
Equivalent to her multiple personalities
Sad happy sad happy
Sad...

She is capable of being both sad and happy
She is introverted AND extroverted
She is 5 million different people
Sometimes wishing she could narrow herself down to just one
She is ME
Robert Potter Dec 2011
I am bursting at the seams
You need to know
If only these chains
Were a little looser

I cannot leave
Eyes and ears
Are ever looking
And aloft with what they hear

I write to you now
To everyone
And anyone who’ll listen

You need to know
I am bursting
I cannot wait
A moment longer

— The End —