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Sasha Scarr Apr 2013
I cannot produce,
I cannot be used.
I sit here in dryness,
I call this abuse.

Seeds fall into me,
as they always do,
I cannot grow roses,
& flowers won't bloom.

My purpose stands nowhere,
I cannot see.
Why oh mother Earth,
would you do this to me?

I want to make tulips,
all lusciously aglow.
But there is a feeling,
I will never know.

Soil infertile,
Soil inebriate.
Why must I suffer,
such horrible fate?

Bring me winter,
Bring me spring,
bring all of the beautiful birds,
for them I want to sing.

Let me grow tulips,
let me grow roses.
As the sun shines,
on the children's noses.

Give me a beautiful,
wonderful garden.
Let me grow wood,
Let the tree's roots harden.
M Vogel Aug 2023

  .
To feel things as deeply and as multi-layered as you do-- instantly and all-together, at once.. is to live a life that is far too often right on the edge of temptation, right on the edge of falling. The Art of holding on to who it is that you are, is to never betray that beautiful Self of yours.. whether in word, or deed.. at any given time. Ok it is to  f e e l  things as deeply as your luscious body and spirit so fully can, but as you already so clearly know.. certain "acting on's" can create such havoc within and to the things (people) you find important.

  .   .

That being said, a form of self-betrayal also is to deny yourself the beautiful Gift of fully feeling at all.. in order to help keep a peace that will forever come at the cost of who you truly (fully, within yourself) are.. even if it were to be acted out all alone on the edge of your bed.. or even against the back of a couch.  In the world of Magic and Deep Deep, Beautiful Feeling, there is always a place for the win-win within you, and also within the world that you currently live in, over there.
You are an artist.  An artist  F E E L S.    
The Universe will always, always help you find a way.
Always. xox

  .   .   .

You are far too strong and stubborn to ever fully give up. That, I know. There is also a  'weakness'  within you that hinges around the word "Vulnerability" when the Beautiful world of Magic overwhelms and then truly overtakes you. Your spirit's receptors are far too deeply intertwined into the gorgeous molecules of that lusciously-Responding body of yours. That makes your Path (your "Portion") that much more difficult to endure. There is a tremendous aloneness (loneliness) in living a life that has to so often be  subdued,  solely due to the consequences within others that truly do not understand. What you need most of all.. is simply to be Understood.. yes, Kid.. within all of that seemingly tremendous complexity of feelings and experiences.. your brilliant complexity of mind.. and the succulence of body that so gorgeously feels.. Everything.
It is not a "Curse", young Love.
It is a beautiful, beautiful Blessing.

  .   .   .   .

Surround yourself (if you can) with those who understand (because they struggle within the "Deeply Feeling" world as much as you). It is in no way an act of unfaithfulness (in any way whatsoever) to fully feel. Finding for yourself the most beautiful of Releases within those Moments of deep feeling is the beginning of your way 'out'.. and (so very lusciously),  the way through. You are so very worth your own fighting for.. in order to hold on to every single part of who it is that you are.

Every single beautiful part
(and those within you that you currently "think" are not beautiful)


yeah.. that. xox
Winter Kane Apr 2011
yes, of course I know your name
you're the girl who always dances
no matter who might be around
can't forget someone like you

you're the girl who always dances
around the house with a smile
can't forget someone like you
a beautiful body like yours, dancing

around the house with a smile
I imagined myself with you
a beautiful body like yours, dancing
writhing in ecstasy on my bed

I imagined myself with you
breathing your essence as you're
writhing in ecstasy on my bed
my roommate was the lucky fellow

breathing your essence as you're
laying wrapped inside his arms
my roommate was the lucky fellow
a treasure locked behind his door

laying wrapped inside his arms
you must have glistened like a gem
a treasure locked behind his door
kept hidden from my hungry eyes

you must have glistened like a gem
your lusciously pale skin forever
kept hidden from my hungry eyes
oh, how I long to hold and caress

your lusciously pale skin forever
no matter who might be around
oh, how I long to hold and caress
yes, of course I know your name
This is a pantoum. It is a[n essentially] never ending series of quatrain stanzas.
Lines 2 and 4 of the first stanza become lines 1 and 3 of the next.
May end with a couplet of lines 1 and 3 from the very first stanza, or using those two lines as 2 and 4 of the last stanza.
M Vogel Dec 2022

I was shovelling drifted snow outside  today
and was overcome  again
by the warmth of that  beautiful,
   deep feeling.

You may never understand
the need to push through the mundane
and into the deep,  central Core
of the one you care most about.
    For you,
in your current world, that is not attainable..
but for me..  looking at you..

I know you very much have that  deeply-gorgeous,
extremely worthwhile attainability in you.

Without connecting deeply with one such as you,
I would just be sliding superficially along the surface
throughout this entire 'life' here..

Knowing there is a whole world of untapped closeness
lying just under the status-quo
of the normal 'everyday' operating level.

That is not saying we would necessarily  be ******

       at all

   It just means that there is,  sadly
   such a huge amount of giving up  of the Beautiful
   in order to continue on skating along the surface.

That is why I do what I do, and say the things I say
   late at night.
During the day, I am operating  
out there on the "everyday" level.
At night,  I am connecting into the unfathomable depths
of the most lusciously-beautiful gold mine I have ever known.
I can't do the "surface" thing with you, Young-love..
    In fact..  I won't.  

You get that in your marriage,
and pretty much everywhere else around you.
I refuse to be a part of that tremendously sad list.

You will never not be that deeply luscious gold mine..
You will never not be fully worthy of the attempt.

You want to be left alone.

  
      .. ok.



..And as you cross the wilderness
spinning in your emptiness
--if you have to,  Pray..

looking for a sign, that the Universal Mind
has written you into the Passion play

And as you cross the circle line
well, the ice wall creaks behind;
  you're a rabbit on the run.
(..and the Silver splinters fly
in the corner of your eye
shining in the setting sun)

Well, do you ever get the feeling
that the story's too **** real

   and in the present tense?

..Or that everybody's on the stage
and it seems like you're the only
person sitting in the audience?

https://youtu.be/hhXpGRJQV4Y

Ah, Babe..

Grishma Rialch Jul 2010
Waiting for him,
Was like a,
Mindless abyss.
I thought,
This time I should give it a shot.
Add plus venture,
Into a realm full with pleasures of flesh.
Rather waiting to lie  in sepulcher.

Thence came the wooers,
On horses, chariots, planes and cars,
Courted me to the foreign lands of brand new emotions.
Greasy, exotic, curious  and even obscure ,
To satiate my hunger,
They poured,
And I sinfully devoured.

Ooooh!
A whip here.
Ouuch!
A tickle there.
Aahhhhh!!
The sheer unfolding of their classy work.

Every night lusciously they came,
Wrapped me in an awe of satire, skepticism and imagination,
Not to say of the bruises they gave,
Tears I shed of Anger,Pain ,Love and Hate.

Still I  followed them blindly and agape,
Because a new world in me was taking shape.
Of Shakespeare, Freud, Tolstoy, Eliot, Byron, Wordsworth and my then fav,
the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
A medley  of fantasy, fact-fiction, comedy, realism and romance.
Oh!
What not I chanced upon.
All emphasizing emotion, imagination, scientific and natural thought.


There was no stopping of these gnawing hunger pangs,
None lasted more than a one night stand.
The foolish me, unaware, cascaded in the fatal encounters,
Not knowing the pangs are of soul to reach the supreme ******.

Thence came a Seer
The Prophet,
The Wanderer,
The Forerunner,
It was as if he can rip me with his thoughts,
And see my soul through that tear…..

I distinctly remember that divine night,
The moment I held him in my desirous hands,
I was no more in dual fight.
Things started falling into place,
Was no more in that abysmal space.
Still I would say,
It’s a current phase.
This soon would also evade.
New Lover ,
For every new night…

To cut a long story short,
Just so,
Because of your low attention span,
The lover, the poet , the wooer
Was the great
Khalil Gibran.
copyright 2010 by Grishma Rialch
Edna Sweetlove Mar 2015
Oh Joy, Oh Great Heavens Above,
How I like to lingeringly slaver o'er
The fartleberries hanging humunguously
Out of your **** cleft like bunches of mouldering grapes,
And to gaze upon the lusciously stale shitstains
Decorating your hirsute ****-cheeks!
You so rarely wash and your dumps are omnipotent
And you are too mean to buy any **** wipes.

You moan quite loudly in colonic ecstacy
As I plumb the Stygian depths of your sit-upon place,
My nose diving daintily like a woodpecker's beak
Smeared with poo-bits, seeking Nirvana
In your ****** paradise, brown love-tunnel
Serenaded by the poets since Time began!
Nowhere in all the Hershey Universe can there be
A pongier rimmee than you, O unshaven beauty of mine!

My probing tongue is covered with nutty brown paste,
Your sweet excremental delight makes me drool
In joy, as I personhandle myself "down there";
Ignoring the most elemental rules of hygiene.
But sadly there is a fly in the ointment
Indeed a whole ******* barrelful of them:
Not only will I get a very nasty E-coli infection
But I'll have bad breath tomorrow at chapel.
Raven May 2019
Too much synchronicity...
I feel you.
Your touch, your taste, your kiss, your skin.
Knocking me is the way to go, just put our lips together, and blow.
Baby, just breathe on me.
Blow on my soft flesh and kiss.
Lubriciously, lusciously, lustfully.
Breathe on my taste, my touch, my sin.
We don't even need to be physical, tonight, my senses don't make sense at all.
Our imaginations...
Take it in, let it out...
Baby, just breath on me.
Seductively, sensually, sexually.
We don't even need to touch, just breathe.
Baby.... **** yeah.
(Moans)
Feel my sin as it's desire that I unleash.
Magnitude, corresponding with your aching thought of impure lustful intention.
Intention, feel me grasp onto your every nerve with my non-physical touch.
Caress me, hold me, baby, don't even **** me, just breathe onto my neck, my shoulder, my breast, my stomach, my *****, my thigh, my legs, my ***.
Can you feel it?
As I mind *******, it's that tingling sensation I release.
Aaaaaaah, baby, stop, and just breathe.
Britney Spears _ Breathe on me (Inspiration)

I am tired,  and just now laying down
in my bed.. I can't believe I can finally
get some rest.

What a day, sweetie.
You were on my mind  all day
and I could  feel the tender-hearted
sadness and vulnerability welling up in you..
So very interesting that it has gone
this route.. and the gates open back up,
but with a well-oiled  swing this time...
And you are wondering if there is
really enough love available to  truly
save a person..  And you gasp out loud
as I pull you  close to me,
as if you did not know that was something
that could even be done in this world--
my hand to the small of your back
as my mouth presses  softly
to the side of your face..

and I whisper words of warm,  loving support,
           deeply into you--
  tears..  streaming down your beautiful face
    as your whole body trembles.

"This kind of world is so unfamiliar to me,
I don't even know how to be right now..  
And just as much..
   I have no idea how or what to feel.  
I've been crying a lot--  over all the
things I've had to face..
along with all of these changes.
And when I told you that I missed
you.. I really meant it.  

    ..But then you hurt me bad.. real bad"


You are angry and still hurt.
but you can't stop pulling at my shirt--
clenched in your hand, at my chest..
so much  that you are about to tear
my buttons.

"Why do you do that to me
when I need you so much..  
why.. when I open up and trust  

    and need you the most,  
            why do you do that?"


You are shaking me with both fists  now
but there is still the look  of deep
love in your eyes..  and as they look
directly into mine, your tears of anger
and hurt  give way to the overwhelming
desire to press  up against me..
and have me kiss you   deeply.

    Looming overhead
    is my cloud-incased,  need
    to  not  cast a vote  on the
    current status-quo..

     ..To  not  call today--
      'everything we've worked toward
      until today,  is enough'


"You will  end up
in my bed, beautiful girl..
and we'll be together--
pushing forward,  pushing  in to..
   everything that you have taken in,
   so far..
..But I am scared shitless  of the
ever-limiting nature  the
threat of mundaneness  brings about
by complacency within the inner-self..

..And so with you, my beautiful..
I light a skyrocket under  that
gorgeous, sweet *** of yours..
    And throughout  the cosmos
    And into the Realms  you shoot..

.. But am I not  always  the one
who catches you before you fully fall--
scary as the unfair launch into the sky is..
I have always, always  caught you."



"You have, Paul.
I'm going to fall in love  with you
harder than I ever have in my life
because of who you have
been to me throughout the years..

..But one day.. I'm gonna stand up
and punch you--  right in the nose..
   ..then leave..

   because of  h o w  you  have 
   been to me throughout the years."



"Damm right you will, Babe.
Now get the ****  over here       
      and give me a kiss..
      ..And you
      have to pretend like you like it, too.."


"I'm still mad at you Paul..
and you're such a pervert.  But I
know how much you love these,  
so I want to show them to you"


--As you gently  pull on your  cute,
flowery black dress's belt.. it slowly
unwraps  and falls down, onto the grass..

My eyes are staring at your beautiful body..
     that absolutely perfect skin..
those lusciously-gorgeous  *******..
the curve of those hips,  the shape of
your thighs..

    "Do you like what you see?"


"Ah, Babe..
    more than I have words for."





(but you see.. there's still this thing I do..)


xoxoxo

I am a lineman for the county
And I drive the main road

Searchin' in the Sun for another overload

I hear you singing in the wire..
I can hear you through the whine

And the Wichita lineman
Is still on the line

I know I need a small vacation
But it don't look like rain
And if it snows that stretch down South
Won't ever stand the strain

And I need you more than want you
And I want you for all time

And the Wichita lineman
Is still on the line
https://youtu.be/pqv0sHnD2cw


I really  was
trained as a mercenary, not as a cook.
Lamar Lewis Sep 2011
You told me my colors clashed
But I think them more to dash
and lash out
at passersby to sing and scream,
to shout
to sigh and shrug,
to let it all out

To breathe real deep and hold it there
my chest the spectrum swells to a tear
dulls, pallids, dry and opaque
to sing and scream, to shout,
to shake.
Violently to wake.

Violently vaporize voluptuously
from lustful lucidity lusciously
to chromatically color kaleidoscopically
and wake.
Silently shake and to...
Brilliantly Break.

Such a brilliant break, the day's.
To shatter smoothly in calm collision

through the dripping dew, the haze
Oh the grip of you, the taste

        Such a fantastic fission
Illuminate
          Such a drastic decision
in a dreamstate.
             Such a calm collision.

You told me my colors clashed.

Your eyes, my sinking shrine
A wishing well in Town Square
filled with hope and change over time
Long and Loving I would sweetly stare
copper glowin' fine

Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
what new love with my coins did you buy?

Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
was my wishing well shrine emptied in the night?

Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
why void of shine, lined with lies?





You told me my colors clashed
Your eyes, though sublime,
Maybe Mis-matched.
Travis Green Mar 2022
There is no way I can do without you
I need your chocolate brown sweetness
Give me your brandy brown lips to kiss
Let me nuzzle your strikingly suave beard
Become so besotted by your charming onyx eyes
****** with astonishingly hot, long, and dark dreadlocks
Boy, you are so in my heart
Lock your hands on my tantalizing *******
Kiss my delectable pebbled peaks
Love me lusciously, loverboy
I give you the key to my treasure chest
Gnirednaw Dec 2012
it's been three sour months of sobriety
and unfulfilled
sensuality

But I see Lucy still remembers where
all of my
favorite places to be touched are

She sends me soaring
Fumbling.
Tumbling wildly toward
her body. a sacrificial offering
A new flavor on my lips
A feather soft breath across
my hips

****.
I'm afraid if i whispered too loudly
I'd disturb the rhythm
of her technicolor love

And Lucy loves me so
lusciously
Uhm... the only thing I can think of to explain this without giving too much detail: first time with a girl... on LSD. Critique is welcome, but homophobic comments aren't so much. I think hellopoetry will be serving as a diary for me, unfortunately for those of you who read it. Lol,  thankee sai! :)
PoetWhoKnowIt Jun 2014
Fantastically fashioned fingers,
  running smoothly through hair;
past present post-
  Father Time struck by Sand Man's stare.


Heavenly hanging hair,
  draping gently over lips;
tantalizing teasing tendrils-
  Aphrodite's mien, Venus' hips.

Lusciously loving lips,
  smiling softly at wandering eyes;
delirious delighted daze-
   Pyramus and Thisbe's kiss--butterflies.

Efficaciously effervescent...
  enchantingly endearing...
    enticingly euphoric...
      exultantly excited...
[Simply] ethereal! Eyes,
  diamonds, starlight, life, of Earth, sky, and sea;
bejeweled boundless bless'ed-
   If thou were Medusa, stone I'd be so readily.

Simply said Shakespeare,
  thou art the sun;
falsely framed fairness-
  for the sun is not brightest,
    tis You tis You,
      my wonderful, beautiful One.
Hamna Jul 2021
Imagine if nobody felt pain?
Would any of us be left sane?
Why do I say so?
Because once upon a time,
There lived a stranger.
In order to quench his thirst,
He drank boiling water.
And to quench his hunger,
He lusciously chewed his mouth.
Once upon another time,
A little girl lived in a famine.
The night-snake came and bit her.
But unlike you, she didn't throb.
And deemed that he was simply playing
Both of those people plunged into pain.
Yet, they never felt pain.
Instead, they unknowingly became inhumane.
So thank God for having a conscious brain.
Is there such a thing called not feeling pain? Yes, unfortunately. People with the extremely rare disease known as Congenital insensitivity to pain and anhydrosis (****) causes people to go through this sort of torture. Unconsciously, they self-harm themselves which leads to a short life span.
                                        The ability to feel pain is a blessing, indeed...
Lora Lee Jul 2016
There is
a ripeness
          pending.
It stares at
me in the face,
          unblinking,
like an animal
ready to pounce.
It drinks in
my psyche,
             my blood
pumping
in its wild, tender veins.
It soaks up
the vitality
           clamoring
within me, like
a tornado
about to break force,
winds gathering
tightly under moonlight
a cosmic dam about
                      to burst.
It is a spell
cast into wilderness,
pristine and untouched,
yet longing for fulfillment
an undoing
of the senses
a subconscious unraveling
that journeys into
            unknown vistas
                with no map
Perhaps the
only real guidance
is each fine-tuned
          sensibility in turn:
Eyes taking in the colors
within pulsing electricity
as they merge
             and re-separate
into distinct tinctures
of luminosity  
Ears welcoming
the instruments
        of our bodies
as they writhe in tune
with acoustic passion,
hearing the cries of
wolf and owl whispers
          of trees deeply
reverberating into nightfall
Smell, to inhale
the muskiness of earth
the salt of sea
the crisp dusk of fire
and your pinelit, animal scent
                           familiar yet far
tracing me to you
like predator to prey
in magnetic vortex
  Touch,
                 to hold the
strands of my being
in place, steadied
by mahogany and silk
soft and solid at once
as the rhythms of storm
                 rock the house
And then:
Taste
to lusciously peel back
the layers of
             our essence        
letting them brew
in their own juices      
as they gather
  upon the tongue
in an effulgent stream:
sweet merging with salt
      pleasantly sour and piquant
with understanding
whetting appetites
in a sumptuous feast
         of enlightenment
that only shows us how,
in both primitive and
             ethereal awareness,
we had known this
was going
to happen
       all our
             lives
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YEyuRlSieg
Fever Ray...this piece hit it for me while writing, as well as:
Wardruna - IwaR (Vikings VS King Ecbert)
Powerful stuff. ;)
Travis Green Jul 2021
He is so deep
In my world
So sultry and muscly
Tanned brown enchantment
Stroking his wet, **** flesh
His mighty, ruthless missile whistle
Luring me into unending lust
Longing for him to lusciously bust
His streaming *****
Upon my womanly, perfumed breast
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Time is nothing new, knowing knots will never be undone
Evil crawls in the minds of man, manifesting itself to be beautiful
Accepting and acknowledging all aristocrats who abuse their power
The world is bland, where a woman loses her womanly flower
Covering each other up, taking out the surface not the root, it’s wrongful
Uncommon is the book, imagination in the individual’s ideal of no fun I sit pondering upon these problems, probing a way into fixing all
When a crumpling crucial crumping sound, roared through the skies TV’s turned on, radios turned up, the Television speaks of trumpets
Couples, church-goers, children cry to the camera “Ready your Caskets” Fire and hail trail to the ground, blood blaze behind, Earth in her demise
People jab and judge each other, nobody understanding the Trumpets first call.
As the people panic in passionate rage and fear Everything is going, diminishing, dying, covered in dirt, grass and trees burning
A second trumpets serenades through savage yells
Mountains begin to burn and fall, along with the church bells
The seas slowly from within spoils into blood curling
Every child glances up joyfully as staircases appear. A ten horned beast raises out of the sea, mouth maliciously open with intent
Scrambling and screaming sub-beasts crawl into an unhinged jaw
It rages and shakes the ten kings hoarding on each horn. Three kings crumble, crash to cultivated grounds, their bodies torn. Blood bathed, entitled; enraged the beast takes earth as its thrall. The people scared, scratched, scraped and tortured bent. Blackened beasts bash past the saints
Looking for sin, sinister civil devils
Trumpet three blows, while sitting upon universal long ledges
The demons demonstrating patience beyond the ages
Hells helpful and hazy corruption seen at different levels
Through mans lounging, Wormwood falls to decide fates. The world is weeping through wasted weaves of wind
Disgusting smell of dead rides the tormented tasteless air
Swallowed by the fourth trumpet, bravely bashing through gusts
To find safe haven upon the throne of tusks
No animal though that tasted the tenacious disease will be accepted in care
They will be banished into the cold forever dark air, where they will shiver and cringe. The world is silent waiting, wallowing for the fifth When it comes Angels, breath beneath the blacken clouds
There striking wings linger as they blow three cornets In the sky, seeping through the soundless sky sails comets
A sight for the still faithful all watch in a crowd
As the comets releases Locusts from beneath. Laying lusciously low in a most lucid state, The ***** Her words wager, weave, win through the minds, falling for false prophecy
Ripping right by the remonstration of being The ***** of Babylon
Woman and Man fall for the words, seeking haven from hell hereon
Adult to child, wishing away her whims, she is the spiritual adultery
No newly made Neanderthal seeing her for the devils zany zealotist abhor. With The ****** lies, breaches the Mother of abominations
The one obtuse and first woman to walk in the Garden of Eden
Human at first, ripped apart, away from innocence; Lilith Haste to Hate, Revenge against the rotting earth, taking away human health
The goal stupendous, shaking sorrowfully, any good is forbidden
For killing is her passion, her art, her own Revelations. The sixth trumpet signals the release of the most dangerous Soldiers
The four enticing beings of end that are released from Euphrates the great water
Their massive army mounting at two hundred million minimizes us
Useless and hopeless everyone allows plagues in their bodies with lust
All people want is death, decaying, disembodied from the soul, without a bother
The ***** still preaching, but not a single being is listening to her false words of a philosopher. In the mix of mist and swamps I continue to sit and scrutinize
Every evil endorsing embassy of hell-spawn
Floating and coating, demoting every satchel of thought
As every defecate of remorse leave me in distraught
My mind is distilled where my initial thoughts are withdrawn I empower the sour cowering stare of the devil’s eyes. I cannot look away, the steady statue stare Embracing escalated enmity, fighting for it not to invade my mind
Never knew cruelness existed and brought beings such delight It covers itself in kindness and caring as it wishes me good night
When wrathful vengeance I awake, to aspire, to find
A torture most terrifying, tossed into twisted tarred souls, my religion I forswear. A game of chess, played between each, no physical state
Dictating the defence, drawing out, hitting, harassing and hackling
Pawn for a pawn, the pound of flesh taken from the absence of attack
Everything twists and twines around each feeble thimble of thoughtless comeback
Devil sends soulless soldiers, crashing crazily through bones a crackling. Finding flirtatious moments to pass the queen into the kingly gate. I have lost; no match made on earth can win with the Devil
Although I lost, I still hold onto faith that in the everlasting end I will be acknowledge by my God, I’ll will be shown care
I sit, sore, scarred, seared of my dignity, I pray
In my mind the Lord’s Prayer is the only way I can defend
I know beyond my brave but bashed thoughts that I kept away from evil. The loudest, most holy, mind clearing trumpet rings
The seventh and ending of the biblical war
A hole rips the sky, rendering useless, entirely beautiful though
Angels dash rescuing the ravaged by faithful souls, protection from beasts below I am avenged, my mind repaired from the unprotected un-releasing pain that I can now ignore
I praise to the Lord, lavishing, laying beside his council of twenty-four of forgiving beings.
Travis Green May 2021
Being in his land of warmness
Makes me long to bathe
In his waves of tastefulness
Sensually slide into his paradise
Feeling his grand serenity
A lusciously loc’d love
Painting his magical masterpiece
Upon the dynasty of my soul
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
What does it matter to you?
My screams mean nothing to you.
Clawing, scratching, scrambling
for something, anything to cling to.
****** fingers and blind eyes;
no one else can hear these cries.
My mind: shattered, broken, defeated,
smeared on the floor for all to see.
The only voice I hear in the dark -
my Demon with his painful remarks.
Words ring off the walls; he speaks
velvet Lies into my ears for weeks.
Humanely malicious;
he tears my mind asunder.
Lusciously venomous;
he drags my broken body under.
There is no cure, no escape;
he is my twisted fate.
When I am vulnerable, he crawls to my side.
There is no one to tell me otherwise.
So what does it matter to you?
My screams never meant anything to you.
Murakami Feb 2019
The ephemeral memory of your fragrance
fills my mind with such an amorous longing,
Alluring my senses, anticipated bliss.
More intoxicating than wild lavender,
it invades my conscience.

The purest hint brings you close once more,
as if I nested my head against your chest,
listening to your steady heartbeat,
I am again embraced by your arms,
as I am lusciously reminded
of the evenings of passion

When we were a whole world ourselves.
Lemmings living lusciously in tiny boxes all the same – splashes of color
the whirring buzz of a paved path lures them like fish to their shiny frames
drab claims to a cube – clickty clack,
guffaw guffaw goes the lemming in cube 102
cube 104 pounds and releases, click click click, whirring slides overwhelm the brain of the lemming.
Beep beep beep,
ring ring ring,
millions of delicate digital lemmings walking off cliffs
plummeting to their pasteurized expiration
glued to more tiny shiny brightly lit boxes wanting verbosity and novelty
superficial thoughts grasp until every little living lemming wanders into the last chest,
the box made of satin, and silk, hammered shut and dropped into a rectangle mounded with dirt.
What comes next – nothing but more lemmings living in smaller boxes to their expiration dates
K Balachandran Jul 2015
Your lovely eyes(widened by a surgeon's knife) in happiness shine,
those pouting lips sure contain some fillers,to make them lusciously full,
and the make up that creates an aura,I can't fail to notice , is subtle,
yet, I hope the beauty invisible is pristine still in your tranquil soul.
All these efforts make you look nice; yes I like it and appreciate it.
But I am so  amazed how your inner beauty holds me in thrall
that too with such effortless ease!
Melissa E Pike May 2014
Her beauty is amplified by her unrefined exterior
She lays, submerged in allure
This woman has tresses that gently border her expression,
Composing a visual so tempting
A toasted complexion fused with almond designed eyes, a petite nose, and lusciously plump lips
Her skin, maintains silky to caress throughout her full physique
From her significant *******,
To her fleshy abdominal region she has been drenched in gorgeousness
Her restricted territory receives my adoration along with her limbs stretched atop our mattress
This Woman is my lover, my friend, and my everything
She is flawed in all the right places, with loveliness through and through
To craft the most stunning woman I have ever set eyes on
She was built,
shorter than the other buildings,
     but stands just as tall.
She was designed to be
     thinner,
     as it would just fit.
Her long winding curves,
     stretching lusciously
          into the great blue sky.
Sabatino,
     or what I like to,
          call her:
               Kelsey.
Her smile a grin
     of reflective bright
          sunlight.
This was how she was modeled,
     crafted with the finest:
          Marble,
          Steel,
          Wood,
          and Stone.
As if Michelangelo
     or Da Vinci,
came back to chisel this
     monument to beauty.
Not because they can,
because they must.
     I may walk past this building
          everyday,
on my way to work,
          coffee,
          school.
But one day,
     I will christen the lips
          of her sounding entrance.
That day I
     will be as tall as her.
A titan of concrete,
     of steel.
A titan that controls my
          imagination,
          time,
and heart.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 8
~with thanks to T. Riddle for the inspiring photos~

there are color photos of budding nascent fruits,
an unexpected delivery to the eye’s inbox
exuding new youthfulness in
variegated shades of green
and

solitary ant traveler on a leafy space shuttle,
making its way, crossing galaxies
drinking from eye-drop seas
living off the land
and

life bursting out unreservedly asking for
no favors, nor recompense but to
breath, drink of soil nutrients,
to live to give back more
than it takes
and

to be chosen, plucked, torn from its environs,
to be the fruit of sustenance and a
delivery system to pass on its
****, tasty, enhanced flavors,
its seeded progeny the
chance to same
and

the ant travels on and about fearless,
its mini-size and sure footed body
leaping leaf to leaf to live and
to be fruitful and
multiply
and

multiple multipurposed prayers multiply,
of human origin, as humans blink at the
new-life miracles repetitious, wistfully
wishing every prayer, could be
answered thusly so lusciously
but

this it cannot be always, so we accept
as best we can, small proofs,
of regeneration, life eternal,
wetting browned, dark
soil with blotches of
salty damp-tears
encased within a
moment~eased
hopeful heart
7:52am
Sabbath Sat.
June 8
2024
Candy Glidden Jul 2010
Beautiful dreamer
Captivating my heart

Words that fill my soul
to completely overflow

Smiles that glisten
like water on my skin

The longing to touch you
eternal bliss, entice me

To breath you in
Savoring every scent

Thy lips are of the purest
most delicate desire

Sweet, soft, and lusciously
moist, my body hungers

The eyes of passion
leave me in curious wonder

Contemplating the depth
of a single stare

Knowing my heart beats
for you, without doubt

If for just one moment,
to stand before you, amazed

To fall softly into your heart,
into your soul

To dwell forever more,
loving you always, beautiful dreamer.
Copyright2005  Candy R. Glidden
Julia Brennan Apr 2015
She says she has none,
but her daddy issues run deep.

She pops pills and binges on tequila
to feel empowered and alive.
Intoxication controls her
and she gets behind the wheel.
The possible danger, legal ramifications;
they do not matter.
She wants the fleeting source to fill the void.
Her actions are impulsive, flighty
she is always searching...
searching....
searching...

She licks her lips, lusciously seductive
and gives away the milk.
The cows move too quickly now,
even for cows.
Then here comes the Crazy Parade
led by the depressed conductor.
Disoriented mutterings, ****** frustrations;
no one watches, no one cares

Her ruin is a full-time job
the 8 to 5 never ends.

She says she has none,
but her daddy issues run deep.
Meg B Apr 2014
Poetry
is the
buzz of bumblebees
as they extract
the mellifluous nectar
of the tulips
blooming in my mother's
backyard.

Poetry
is the
taste of a brain freeze
pumping hard against my skull
as strawberry ice cream
melts into my
tongue.

Poetry
is the
way it sounds
when I hear the soft strums
of an impromptu banjo
tune.

Poetry
is the
odor of
freshly lit candles,
as the light swells full
with smells
of relaxation
on a sultry
afternoon
in bed.

Poetry
is the
pang of loneliness
a lover feels
as they are engulfed
by
absence.

Poetry
is the
sting of pain
as I bite my lip
hard
to keep from
screaming.

Poetry
is the
tinge of sensations
of
throbbing,
quivering,
and
detonating
with a forceful
heave of
breath.

Poetry
is the
scent and hum
as the coffee ***
vibrates,
emitting
a sweet aroma
to lift the
early morning
fog.

Poetry
is the
grin that washes
from left to right
across a face
jubilant
with
appreciation
and
admiration.

Poetry
is the
senses jolted,
the
emotions experienced,
the
moments lived.

Poetry
is the
laughter,
the
tears,
the
yelps,
the
moans.

Poetry
is the
harmonizing,
the
intertwining,
the
dreaming.

Poetry
is the
anguish,
the heartbreak,
the failures.

Poetry
is the
catharsis,
the felicity,
the obstacles overcome.

My world,
your world,
our world;
it is the poetry,
flowing rapidly,
lusciously
from my ballpoint pen.
Anais Vionet Jun 28
A shadow crossed the room
in the corner of my awareness

A cloud outside somewhere, probably,
but for an instant, I thought that motion was you.

Thoughts of you are casually intrusive.

Maybe you’d crawled into my luggage - and hidden.
There’s a complex birthday-candle wish.

Desire owes no deference to logic

When I think of you, my tummy becomes warm satin and I know,
that in your hands, I could be boneless and lusciously obedient.

For a while, anyway.

I remember us at the beach, lounging in deep parasol shade,
how your tanned skin glistened with tiny beads of sweat
and your endless legs stretched out like a centerfold’s.

Or you pulling me up out of the pool, one-handed, effortlessly,
with enough force that I briefly flew, and how you’d gently guide me down.

“What are you doing?” I’m virtually slapped out of my ****** fantasy, by Lisa, who’s standing, exasperated, sandaled toes tapping, purse in hand.

“Daydreaming,” I answered weakly, as I jumped up to get myself ready.

Has it only been four days since I left you?
I already feel tragically underheld.
.
.
A song for this:
Ain't it a shame by The B-52s
Locked Inside by Janelle Monáe
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Deference: showing respect to a person or idea (like a flag)
Heather Moon Sep 2015
When was the last time you let the grass tickle your toes or let the fragrance of a rose twirl softly up your nose?
When was the last time you stopped the "I know's" and truly surrendered to the mystery that grows, 
lusciously flows 
and goes 
trinkling back to home?
Do you dare to release your
hair to the bare 
winds that breeze on by? 
Do you dare, with quivered lips, 
scream out to that aching sky?
Do you dare to fill your heart to the brim with love so good it shakes,
as you unfold your lips 
and unfetter to the deepest most secret quips 
of being, 
left hidden in moments before the 
earth quakes?

Do you dare to care 
So much
So so so much
That all you can do is surrender?

Do you dare to point 
your fingers to that sky
and whisper just 
why why why
You do care
As the moon listens and
galaxies watch on 
by by by.

In the bluest truest stare
You whisper
I do dare
I do care
I do do Do
Dare
To touch the Sky to the Earth
The Earth to Sky
To rebirth
And shed
To awake the sleeping dead
To be a soul fulfiller
To be a long standing pillar
To be genuine, wise, and humbled in my knowing
To let myself be, breathe, feel, feed
The grass that is growing
To be blossomed like the fig that simply shares
Or the trumpet that expands outwards with its blares~~
I release from affairs of empty cares
I stand before the sky
Naked in my silence
I stand before the wind
And whisper....
Do you hear me mother?
Soft whispers of I do
I do I do I do
Its true...
....I do dare...
Kìùra Kabiri Apr 2017
Adam, beauty of my splendours’ wake
Adam, gorgeous of my woman's make
Like blended incense of a skilled perfumer-longer lasting
Precious is your every moment’s memory-forever fascinating

Sweet like honey dripping with tastes
Exulting like melodic music to banquet
Exalting as glory of saints sequences
Fragrant like blossoms-blooms to bouquet
You are awesome, Adam, my handsome!

Betwixt your endearing arms embrace
There is no other kingly palace-
In the world, better than being in this place
You are mine ever, fortified fortress!

Your arms enclosures are posh and precious-what a delightful pleasure!
Than all the Royal Palaces in the world- the Palace of Pena,
The Buckingham, the Bellevue, the Palace of Versailles…..
You are my refuge, my strength, within you I am at peace!

Your hugs and kisses are the safest and secure citadel, château!
More than the newly built castle-Castle In Love with the Wind, Conwy Castle
The Château de Chambord or the worldly Windsor Castle, the Edinburgh Castle
Better than the Neuschwanstein or the Alcazar or the Culzean Castle  

On your pleasured chest
What more luxury lusciously nest?
Than this peacefully plumed softs on to rest
On yours is a cozy quilt pillow-purest!  

Adam, I adore you, you are the one for me and I am the one for you!
Like you are never any and if any there are not many but only of you a few
Adam, my strong man, your body is like the vigour of a youthful river flow
Shaped and chiseled finely like Archangel Michael’s-without any a flaw  
Your stamina is of a stallion, raised for the royal loyal knights, princes and kings

You eyes, they burns with allure like summer suns, with calmness and warmth
Your looks alone, burns my cold skin with a warm tenderness and a happy healing health
With you, again, my under skins shivers, vibrates with a new chill feel of elated lively wealth
You build stars for me even when my sky is a sorrowful sea of melancholy and misery

Adam, look at how you build-fascinating, amongst the pride of your elites
Like a cherub injected with alchemies of never getting old but growing younger
Straight and tall you stand-dominant before me conquered, deeply rooted as Lebanon’s cedars
And when me you touch gently o-ooh! It is with soft so tender as river lilies sacred splendours
Adam, you are killing me, skinning me while still I am living, let me first die for you!  

Let me feel your loving lips digging deep into mines meager burning complete even my heart  
Let me first touch those sinews and serrations all over your graceful figurine  
Let me first prostrate, adore you-my king and knight, my warrior and worship!  
Let me fancy you muscle man, a delighting idol of your deity’s outline
Let me a little look in those starry eyes of yours and see my fragility safe in their security

Let me feathery feel weighed in those toddler’s sways and swings of your swift palms lifts
You arms strength drawing all my energies faint, as it goes round my wasp’s waist  
Then you can slay and slice me-**** me subjugated into a humble defeat before you
In whatever way you want and feel best, I am capitulated-your captured and conquered queen!

Adam, before you, you are the coveted master and I am your surrendered slave
Besides you let me leafy feel, little and small dancing on your burly biceps
And my brittle petite bottoms sit safe on top of your large ****’s laps
For you alone are my glorious king-Adam, you send me deep into my craving grave
Stretch and save me from the abyss of my trepidations and temptations-I want you, for good!

© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Sorcier d'argent Feb 2016
Solely and only upon yonder radiance,
Hovering in awe as it dims,
The moonlight, as it shuts the fireflies,
And the butterflies fade white lo!

Allow me to look,
To fixate my gaze upon thee,
To let my heart stray,
Just for once in all times myriad….

Because I see thee flaring red,
Violet too, as it shimmers,

In which I failed to see,
A star thought fallen,
One that escaped me,
And too, my conscience shaken….

“And how I’d wish to hold you tight,
To have your all mine, just for the night….”

The very strand of your rivering crown,
As it entangles hearts and souls,
One dash too many, leaving damsels frown,
Envious, as all their knights growl….

“The first sight of thee, yonder hair as it flows,
As it compels winter’s first sunrise….”

Grant me entrance,
Paint me audacious, if you will;
To have not a mere peek,
But thy naked soul I seek!

Verily, how I’d wish to stay,
Before yonder glistening complexion,

One elegant, another meekly laced,
Innocence, complexity, and beauty,
Verses, songs, and poetry,
O lovely, how it leaves me entranced!

“Thy very eyes, jewels a pair, the brightest of all.”

And as it brought me deep,
Far under fairly steep,
Sweetly enticing, it tempts,
Lusciously as it draws,

Nearer towards I; O guilty bliss!

As I fell enchanted to its scent,
To its vermillion charm I vent,
How red and velvety!
O how I’d wish to feast upon it!

“I vow to consume it whole, bitter sweet to its very
pith. Thy lips verily, Scarlet’n glossy!”

As I would see the whole of you,
Violet as it engulfs, thy ***** a hand,
And deep onyx as it taints thy stand,
A fair column as it braces; O grassy font!

Fair'n sleek, allow me to quench my thirst within!

"As I would keep you on sight, I'll etch it through. Your very stature, yonder silhouette divine."

As I bid thee fair well,
Eternal in a night myriad....

"My lady in violet,
Tonight, you look gorgeous."
A dishonest, yet verily passionate infatuation.
Denise Writes Jul 2018
If you have to deceive and weave at KLCC a lie,
CCB it seems quite clearly queer?
For I a wombless woman shed no monthly blood,
A graceless mother mary, devoid of long enough hair,
"click clack" sounds draw eyes of jagas and makciks to stare,
Looks like the loudest color is blue

For murmurs and whispers make it seem queer,
That id let vampiric brastraps brand me as they drink my blood,
A silent gap beneath my beneaths;here be nothing but hair,
a masquerade designed to stop or lessen the gradient of stares,
This is to stop me from turning blue,
choked/drowned/beaten : price of the lie

the penalty of a razor blade slices skin shedding tears of blood,
Streaking down legs and pits,for the sake of the lie,
Maybe i **** at shaving AHAHAH or maybe im not queer (after all),
For i am a mask;in heels blue,
a formless being; marked by long hair
yet formed enough to elicit stares

As mascara and eyeliner streak across face,yonder disheveled hair,
Calls "kopi O s
panas anneh" in baritone voice amidst stares,
The heels click,ocean blue,
Color of the body in these fears derived from commonality:drained of blood,
Tis no pontianak nor hantu raya,but tis is I, an antromorphised lie,
The mask that bends and folds to the will of anachronistic archaic norms that i shouldn't be queer

I live in fear, bounded by a 1000 eyed wall that stares,
A whispering congregation, "Ah gua? Bapok, Gay, ******" as these words stream around me, a river blue,
This blows as I don't like to fib, ( im Catholic u see) so i won't lie,
I AM NOT A BOY BUT IM A GIRL WHO'S QUEER
the length of hair gender markers none as it's just ******* hair

A woman I am; hear me roar; in my heels blue,
Locks; flowing lusciously; binding one norm: gender =/= length of hair,
Empowerment is built upon this premise: 'what me worry,what me care, go to hell with your stares",
I'm no Marsha I'm no Slyvia i wont lie,
But one things for certain : " im here and im queer"
Bruises and burns bear no marks for there is no spilt blood
CW: self harm, queer , transphobia
TJ Apr 2013
The following poem is not complete... but I would really enjoy some feedback for what I have already*

The tears start to fall
rolling to the ground
faster she runs
as if speed could stop the pain
clumsy she has always been
in life and love
falling down hard
the sudden halt stole her breath
yet it was the sight before her eyes that made her gasp
the brown blades of grass turned lusciously green beneath her tears
and flowers effortlessly bloomed to life
the sun shone through the gray clouds above
she was caught in its warm embrace
her crying faltered and laughter sang
despair melted away
swaggmaster May 2019
life smears ache quick
though lusciously repulsive
the storm lathers you bitter
with a thousand tiny licks
of mad honey worship
this was constructed through magnetic poetry

— The End —