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"lusts" poems
You cause a break inside my organs Pointing out my flaws our differences. You are at peace. I sit jittering, worrying what everyone will think of when I didn’t care you made me laugh at everything Changes.  You’re not right for me Nor I for you, but I can’t help Thinking What if?  Then I remember you’re not what nor Everything I want. You are an intellectual snob you have a depth about you I would love to delve in, a psychological study that even the best critics would praise, but I don’t want anyone else to have been there or ever go there. I cannot hold on to you tear me away while You’re haphazardly gluing us together We’re a kindergarten art project messy, trying to see Beauty within the confusion, unfinished     You asked me Where am I most at peace 4 years old.       I could be anything No fears I hadn’t been ripped apart. I was the girl that said everything, until I felt the need to screen my thoughts, like the filter you use to make your coffee each morning.  I wish that’s where I was, having you tell me that you like your women like your coffee Dark and bitter. I can look past your chauvinistic ways, not giving a **** about anyone. You’re not really closed minded You just act like it, which annoys the hell out of me Sometimes.  I wish life was simple.     But then I would never know your complexities nor Feel the things you help me feel, like hate for train whistles or the burn of gin hitting my throat. Music       you introduce me to offstage trumpets, bad movies.  Your politics, your brown eyes       and how you can hear frequencies that most everyone else can’t.  I worry that you hear the fear in my voice and heartbreak With every word I speak. When were you going to tell me? Or was that your plan all along? To throw me out like yesterday’s coffee grounds or cut up scraps Used and unwanted. I wish I could tell you to tell her you don’t want her but me instead, you don’t, I don’t want you to. I want holding hands, laughter comfort, personality, humor, intellect. You want that plus things I can’t give But you always take. You are your coffee disgusting, caffeinated, addicting the only patch that helps is comforting words you never spoke. We had many conversations of your desires, lusts, mistakes, but I was burned, by lies, distrust. You left, like always, a harsh, acidic aftertaste on my tongue.
0
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
Coffee
You cause a break inside my organs Pointing out my flaws our differences. You are at peace. I sit jittering, worrying what everyone will think of when I didn’t care you made me laugh at everything Changes.  You’re not right for me Nor I for you, but I can’t help Thinking What if?  Then I remember you’re not what nor Everything I want. You are an intellectual snob you have a depth about you I would love to delve in, a psychological study that even the best critics would praise, but I don’t want anyone else to have been there or ever go there. I cannot hold on to you tear me away while You’re haphazardly gluing us together We’re a kindergarten art project messy, trying to see Beauty within the confusion, unfinished     You asked me Where am I most at peace 4 years old.       I could be anything No fears I hadn’t been ripped apart. I was the girl that said everything, until I felt the need to screen my thoughts, like the filter you use to make your coffee each morning.  I wish that’s where I was, having you tell me that you like your women like your coffee Dark and bitter. I can look past your chauvinistic ways, not giving a **** about anyone. You’re not really closed minded You just act like it, which annoys the hell out of me Sometimes.  I wish life was simple.     But then I would never know your complexities nor Feel the things you help me feel, like hate for train whistles or the burn of gin hitting my throat. Music       you introduce me to offstage trumpets, bad movies.  Your politics, your brown eyes       and how you can hear frequencies that most everyone else can’t.  I worry that you hear the fear in my voice and heartbreak With every word I speak. When were you going to tell me? Or was that your plan all along? To throw me out like yesterday’s coffee grounds or cut up scraps Used and unwanted. I wish I could tell you to tell her you don’t want her but me instead, you don’t, I don’t want you to. I want holding hands, laughter comfort, personality, humor, intellect. You want that plus things I can’t give But you always take. You are your coffee disgusting, caffeinated, addicting the only patch that helps is comforting words you never spoke. We had many conversations of your desires, lusts, mistakes, but I was burned, by lies, distrust. You left, like always, a harsh, acidic aftertaste on my tongue.
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90
When I saw her The first woman with the first wide eyes Bright and light and dark and deep With life and mystery My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum And the first song was sung In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago When I first breathed that first scent My sight stopped My mind stopped My mind was my body and my hands and my gut And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time And it slowed down like an ice age beginning Then it melted into warm fire Where it burned The first touch of the first woman Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart The spark from the start of her heart beat Crossed through the fibers and Traveled down the pathways of her body Down the chemical electric synapses Through her arm and jumped across to my hand And traveled up and started a new beat It was a faster, and stronger beat And it beat And it beat Like the first dance, Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet Oh the first woman was all women And then there were other women And they were people Flesh and blood And minds and thoughts And feelings that I could not feel Good and bad and indifferent With hangups and problems Blemishes and baggage I met women coming Women going Here and there Now and then For coffee, for beer, One evening or ten I met scientists, nurses bartenders and baristas. Living lives I didn't mind Giving time when it was mine Asking for things I couldn't find Then I saw You All of you In time and space and speed I caught the scent of you Your fragrance and perfume And the primal musk of you That fatal lusts allure I felt you The gravity of your body from across the room Your electro-magnetic force pulling Pressure of the displaced particles pushing As you walked so slowly towards me And time stopped Light and sound and movement were captured Captive to your hypnotic sway Prisoner to your power over my perception You moved through the still air And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed The world was quiet And then it pounded   The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it As you moved closer, Like ride of the Valkyries Rising and crashing in waves It rose as you moved towards me You carried it in your wake And then it was a crescendo A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes As you stopped a few feet from me And time was stopped You were the first woman You were all women You are The only woman
0
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
The First Woman
When I saw her The first woman with the first wide eyes Bright and light and dark and deep With life and mystery My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum And the first song was sung In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago When I first breathed that first scent My sight stopped My mind stopped My mind was my body and my hands and my gut And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time And it slowed down like an ice age beginning Then it melted into warm fire Where it burned The first touch of the first woman Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart The spark from the start of her heart beat Crossed through the fibers and Traveled down the pathways of her body Down the chemical electric synapses Through her arm and jumped across to my hand And traveled up and started a new beat It was a faster, and stronger beat And it beat And it beat Like the first dance, Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet Oh the first woman was all women And then there were other women And they were people Flesh and blood And minds and thoughts And feelings that I could not feel Good and bad and indifferent With hangups and problems Blemishes and baggage I met women coming Women going Here and there Now and then For coffee, for beer, One evening or ten I met scientists, nurses bartenders and baristas. Living lives I didn't mind Giving time when it was mine Asking for things I couldn't find Then I saw You All of you In time and space and speed I caught the scent of you Your fragrance and perfume And the primal musk of you That fatal lusts allure I felt you The gravity of your body from across the room Your electro-magnetic force pulling Pressure of the displaced particles pushing As you walked so slowly towards me And time stopped Light and sound and movement were captured Captive to your hypnotic sway Prisoner to your power over my perception You moved through the still air And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed The world was quiet And then it pounded   The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it As you moved closer, Like ride of the Valkyries Rising and crashing in waves It rose as you moved towards me You carried it in your wake And then it was a crescendo A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes As you stopped a few feet from me And time was stopped You were the first woman You were all women You are The only woman
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86
She loves me He lusts for me They need me You long for me But I am alone
0
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 9:18 PM UTC
I can’t feel you
Hello, don't hang up I know you don't know me But I believe I know you I know your dreams I know your desires Of the darkest seduction From a strangers voice Of how I would use you But strict with kindness Punish you with lusts Lusts yet unknown to you Lusts to ravish your body To please you in many ways All the ways you dream of Would you dare to know me? Would you dare return my call? Don't be afraid of the dark All you need do is step inside All you need do is use the phone Dial my number, I dare you
0
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
You Don't Know Me
Hello, don't hang up I know you don't know me But I believe I know you I know your dreams I know your desires Of the darkest seduction From a strangers voice Of how I would use you But strict with kindness Punish you with lusts Lusts yet unknown to you Lusts to ravish your body To please you in many ways All the ways you dream of Would you dare to know me? Would you dare return my call? Don't be afraid of the dark All you need do is step inside All you need do is use the phone Dial my number, I dare you
0
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
You Don't Know Me
"lie still and let it wash over you, the was and is and soon to be. How frightening yet effervescent the next 24 hours. The lust, and musts of future days revert to the ancient past..." patty m. >< the irony! when I am stilled, the effervescence of me unbounded, unleashed, and the torrential rain of words fulfilling and departing from my interior I am a Grand Central Station of trains labelled "the was and is and soon to be'' all moving in an unscheduled mayhem, but never crashing. never accidenting, only accenting my racing against time, my oldest and fiercest Super Villian, and one just knows, never can you beat time, time, that old rascally up his sleeve card magician, who when shuffling the deck, he knows what was, what is, and here his red eyes gleam with satisfaction, soon to be... He and I, old familiar adversaries addicted to living. never leave the table, never leave a *** or a poem on the felt, and having always felt, firm believed, there will always be one more, one more gamble, another day, to write another poem and turning my cards over to reveal, to revel, in my Royal Flush of creativity, when time, smiling face, with his wild card, **** time, who trumps me for it, in possess of a Five-of-a-Kind(1) ~' and the new players, the young poets, slap me on the back, saying I had a great run, but they don't know 'bout my secret stash, preprogrammed to appear, long after these fingers cease their tangled tango of tap dancing, my dust, my lusts and musts will unstilled yet be blowing, floating in the soon to be so ha!                          nml 6:30am Wed Sep 10 Twenty Twenty Five
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Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 8:42 AM UTC
the was and is and soon to be...
"lie still and let it wash over you, the was and is and soon to be. How frightening yet effervescent the next 24 hours. The lust, and musts of future days revert to the ancient past..." patty m. >< the irony! when I am stilled, the effervescence of me unbounded, unleashed, and the torrential rain of words fulfilling and departing from my interior I am a Grand Central Station of trains labelled "the was and is and soon to be'' all moving in an unscheduled mayhem, but never crashing. never accidenting, only accenting my racing against time, my oldest and fiercest Super Villian, and one just knows, never can you beat time, time, that old rascally up his sleeve card magician, who when shuffling the deck, he knows what was, what is, and here his red eyes gleam with satisfaction, soon to be... He and I, old familiar adversaries addicted to living. never leave the table, never leave a *** or a poem on the felt, and having always felt, firm believed, there will always be one more, one more gamble, another day, to write another poem and turning my cards over to reveal, to revel, in my Royal Flush of creativity, when time, smiling face, with his wild card, **** time, who trumps me for it, in possess of a Five-of-a-Kind(1) ~' and the new players, the young poets, slap me on the back, saying I had a great run, but they don't know 'bout my secret stash, preprogrammed to appear, long after these fingers cease their tangled tango of tap dancing, my dust, my lusts and musts will unstilled yet be blowing, floating in the soon to be so ha!                          nml 6:30am Wed Sep 10 Twenty Twenty Five
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66
¤¤¤ I've had dreams by day That brought the nightmares back. In the daylights exposure it was dark   When the negative light was bright. In the sea of people I was the floating remains Of a Great White's meal.  On the lonely roads of thought My mind was in gridlock. Comforting memories were suspended Over a psychic black hole By jagged and rusted Medieval-type surgical tools. My remaining senses Were nailed to a cross-section Of psychically atrophied grey matter Along neural pathways Guarded by gladiator-type tormentors. Left with nothing But the stinging desire to be freed From a curse that had to be cured And the hell of searching for a cure When I was convinced there wasn’t one. The powers that be come with force To quell primal lusts & desires Forbidding you of them As they seductively Dangle them before your eyes    Until you are so frustrated and unfulfilled That you no longer Care for your world.   This cracked glass remains empty Even though it is constantly being filled Then spilled or leaked on the floor Until you learn to lap it up Like the lapdog that you have become For their amusement. You remain with a love for freedom   But your cage is so large  That you think you are free Lost in societal fantasy. You think for a while That these fantasies are real    Until you come to your senses that aren’t As you join other fools In comfort that you're not the only Broken-back pack-mule.  But in spite of it all And in the face of them all Don't let these birds of prey                                                           And powers that be Deprive you of what they cannot see In that hidden corner Of what is still untouched-- The real you Uninfected by the world.   Take care of your spiritual affairs. Don't let the global beast And your primal hissing forces Make you be your own pallbearer.
0
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC
A Soul Suspended Over a Psychic Black Hole
¤¤¤ I've had dreams by day That brought the nightmares back. In the daylights exposure it was dark   When the negative light was bright. In the sea of people I was the floating remains Of a Great White's meal.  On the lonely roads of thought My mind was in gridlock. Comforting memories were suspended Over a psychic black hole By jagged and rusted Medieval-type surgical tools. My remaining senses Were nailed to a cross-section Of psychically atrophied grey matter Along neural pathways Guarded by gladiator-type tormentors. Left with nothing But the stinging desire to be freed From a curse that had to be cured And the hell of searching for a cure When I was convinced there wasn’t one. The powers that be come with force To quell primal lusts & desires Forbidding you of them As they seductively Dangle them before your eyes    Until you are so frustrated and unfulfilled That you no longer Care for your world.   This cracked glass remains empty Even though it is constantly being filled Then spilled or leaked on the floor Until you learn to lap it up Like the lapdog that you have become For their amusement. You remain with a love for freedom   But your cage is so large  That you think you are free Lost in societal fantasy. You think for a while That these fantasies are real    Until you come to your senses that aren’t As you join other fools In comfort that you're not the only Broken-back pack-mule.  But in spite of it all And in the face of them all Don't let these birds of prey                                                           And powers that be Deprive you of what they cannot see In that hidden corner Of what is still untouched-- The real you Uninfected by the world.   Take care of your spiritual affairs. Don't let the global beast And your primal hissing forces Make you be your own pallbearer.
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62
THE Government--I heard about the Government and I went out to find it. I said I would look closely at it when I saw it. Then I saw a policeman dragging a drunken man to the callaboose. It was the Government in action. I saw a ward alderman slip into an office one morning and talk with a judge. Later in the day the judge dismissed a case against a pickpocket who was a live ward worker for the alderman. Again I saw this was the Government, doing things. I saw militiamen level their rifles at a crowd of work- ingmen who were trying to get other workingmen to stay away from a shop where there was a strike on. Government in action. Everywhere I saw that Government is a thing made of men, that Government has blood and bones, it is many mouths whispering into many ears, sending telegrams, aiming rifles, writing orders, saying "yes" and "no." Government dies as the men who form it die and are laid away in their graves and the new Government that comes after is human, made of heartbeats of blood, ambitions, lusts, and money running through it all, money paid and money taken, and money covered up and spoken of with hushed voices. A Government is just as secret and mysterious and sensi- tive as any human sinner carrying a load of germs, traditions and corpuscles handed down from fathers and mothers away back.
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7.4k
Government
the poem her belly marched through me as one army. From her nostrils to her feet she smelled of silence. The inspired cleat of her glad leg pulled into a sole mass my separate lusts her hair was like a gas evil to feel. Unwieldy…. the bloodbeat in her fierce laziness tried to repeat a trick of syncopation Europe has —. One day i felt a mountain touch me where I stood (maybe nine miles off). It was spring sun-stirring. sweetly to the mangling air muchness of buds mattered. a valley spilled its tickling river in my eyes, the killed world wriggled like a twitched string.
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7.3k
The Poem Her Belly Marched Through Me As
Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin; And breastless creatures under ground Leaned backward with a lipless grin. Daffodil bulbs instead of ***** Stared from the sockets of the eyes! He knew that thought clings round dead limbs Tightening its lusts and luxuries. Donne, I suppose, was such another Who found no substitute for sense, To seize and clutch and penetrate; Expert beyond experience, He knew the anguish of the marrow The ague of the skeleton; No contact possible to flesh Allayed the fever of the bone. . . . . . Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye Is underlined for emphasis; Uncorseted, her friendly bust Gives promise of pneumatic bliss. The couched Brazilian jaguar Compels the scampering marmoset With subtle effluence of cat; Grishkin has a maisonette; The sleek Brazilian jaguar Does not in its arboreal gloom Distil so rank a feline smell As Grishkin in a drawing-room. And even the Abstract Entities Circumambulate her charm; But our lot crawls between dry ribs To keep our metaphysics warm.
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7.2k
Whispers Of Immortality
but have you noticed, have you noticed how  all mental health problems stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category; i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers; it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns. it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality, the aether virus attacks the pronoun on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use of pronouns, when a king casually says of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively; so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering? the pronoun category is weak from day one, because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer to have weak thinking and strength in knowing, for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing, i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall. so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals - while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals, but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals! but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness, in that segregational aspect of things "sorted," why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage compared to a strength in other grammatical categories? why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns? the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked, and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
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Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
plank v. veneer via grasshoppers
but have you noticed, have you noticed how  all mental health problems stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category; i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers; it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns. it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality, the aether virus attacks the pronoun on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use of pronouns, when a king casually says of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively; so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering? the pronoun category is weak from day one, because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer to have weak thinking and strength in knowing, for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing, i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall. so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals - while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals, but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals! but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness, in that segregational aspect of things "sorted," why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage compared to a strength in other grammatical categories? why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns? the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked, and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
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45
She is not a sub And may never be Her inner voice Convinces her of A different choice But her spirit wails And her body lusts For hard physical passion Power exchange Seed and submission If you play with her Deliver strength Back her to a wall Kiss her hard Command her jaw Use her Discipline her Drop her to her knees It’s what she needs, and She loves to please
0
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
It's What She Needs
I wish to disambiguate to explicate; expanciate: I do not begrudge polyamory, and whatever Love entails to any particular person, for I once was polyamorous; I understand some of the ways in which polyamory can work. Usually when single, or otherwise in an open relationship. I also do not begrudge sluttiness; everyone needs some and some can't resist. Besides, it is noble to work such charity. Who am I, who once sought such charity, to demonize it? I, who have lusts and desires? I do, however, take grievous offense to One in a relationship who tells their partner they're soulmates and who, instead of agreeing to end the monogamous relationship, goes and sleeps around and cheats on their "soulmate", moreover if over and over. It's hard to cope with such deep hurt, and I wish to convey my apologies for my rash hybridized expressions of Anger, Frustration and Hubris. Perhaps it perturbs me so simply because it reminds me of who I once could be and was. Perhaps it irks me so because I'm envious. Again; Polyamory is not a Sin; but before you just go **** someone at least be single or in an open relationship; it isn't only you who is affected by your choices, and I know that's hard to see when you are so young. Don't hold back who you really are, but please; don't cheat others in the process. Not only is Karma a ***** but so can Retribution be; you never know what One scorned is capable of; the next time you cheat someone they may not fall back on mere words; A few more years in this World may teach you that such Anarchy doth go both ways, my dear; Vigilante Justice knows few bounds: Don't take too many chances when it comes to who you **** nor when it comes to who you **** over.
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
Polyamory is not a Sin
I wish to disambiguate to explicate; expanciate: I do not begrudge polyamory, and whatever Love entails to any particular person, for I once was polyamorous; I understand some of the ways in which polyamory can work. Usually when single, or otherwise in an open relationship. I also do not begrudge sluttiness; everyone needs some and some can't resist. Besides, it is noble to work such charity. Who am I, who once sought such charity, to demonize it? I, who have lusts and desires? I do, however, take grievous offense to One in a relationship who tells their partner they're soulmates and who, instead of agreeing to end the monogamous relationship, goes and sleeps around and cheats on their "soulmate", moreover if over and over. It's hard to cope with such deep hurt, and I wish to convey my apologies for my rash hybridized expressions of Anger, Frustration and Hubris. Perhaps it perturbs me so simply because it reminds me of who I once could be and was. Perhaps it irks me so because I'm envious. Again; Polyamory is not a Sin; but before you just go **** someone at least be single or in an open relationship; it isn't only you who is affected by your choices, and I know that's hard to see when you are so young. Don't hold back who you really are, but please; don't cheat others in the process. Not only is Karma a ***** but so can Retribution be; you never know what One scorned is capable of; the next time you cheat someone they may not fall back on mere words; A few more years in this World may teach you that such Anarchy doth go both ways, my dear; Vigilante Justice knows few bounds: Don't take too many chances when it comes to who you **** nor when it comes to who you **** over.
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78
The wetter the better drenched in each others fluids lost in each others thrusts satisfaction is a need exasperated by our lusts our pleasure is forsaken so our sins belong to us
0
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
Pleasure
There is pain in patience We are no strangers to this A man who lusts for a woman Will lose himself waiting A woman who waits in silence Is screaming on the inside We all feel this pain In one way or another A form of agony and distress Longing for what we desire Patience brings pain And we have no control We are afraid to act So we sit in solitude Our minds soon betray us And the tears begin to fall Frustration soon follows And then all goes numb I am impatient Though I know I must wait And when thinking of you My spirit grows heavy Temperance is my goal But I fail each time So I suffer in silence And let time pass by I’m longing for you And it’s quite obvious I know patience is key But I’m impatient for you -AJT
0
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
Pain In Patience
Black rainbow Dreams mixed in a cup of hurricane Hopes flowing on the surface of the tsunami Desires and lusts breaking me as a 7° degree earthquake Anger and bruises burning into my skin like a lava of a legendary volcano.
0
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
Emotionally Naked
I wish I could give you much more- Than my mouth's every empty sound; Words; Like long abandoned shell homes. More than the mere reality of being around. I wish I could give you more- Than my body; physical presence. Than my touch and warm embrace- Heated in the lust of every past instance. I wish I could give you more- Than gifts; my time and attention. My voice, support, smiles and laughter. Wish I'd give you my heart's pure affection. I wish you knew me way before- The loss of every ounce of love I sought. Before the space between spaces filled me, Before the scent of love was eternally forgot. See, every failed fairy tale- Robbed my love of its mass; Left my heart cold, unloving. Empty, like a sand less hourglass. Every shattered future- Taught me how not to love; To cherish only what's left over, Fading innocence; everything I have. Every end of a new beginning- Curved a beast out of my soul; A sweet, charming, beautiful beast. Opposite of what you think you know. I wish you knew me before- I could smile and say I love you- As I whisper praises to the next girl; Of last night, in bed, how she was beautiful. I wish you knew me before- I could hug and hold you tight- With the very warm arms that will- Passionately caress your friend at night. I wish you knew me before- I knew a forever that comes and goes; Before the bits of hurt and nurtured lusts; Before I my pain was of a like nobody knows. I wish you knew me before- The pieces of my broken heart- Spread through my thick, vast past. So I could love you, whole and not in part. I really wish you knew me before- My tears massed into this smiley mask- That stuck to my visage. Before being nice- Was merely my poker face, and not a willful task. But most importantly… I wish you will teach me- To love you with the void space where my heart was; To say I love you in silence; with every beat of our heart; To be one with you; to love with my rights and my flaws. Keep Smiling
0
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
I wish I could give you more
I wish I could give you much more- Than my mouth's every empty sound; Words; Like long abandoned shell homes. More than the mere reality of being around. I wish I could give you more- Than my body; physical presence. Than my touch and warm embrace- Heated in the lust of every past instance. I wish I could give you more- Than gifts; my time and attention. My voice, support, smiles and laughter. Wish I'd give you my heart's pure affection. I wish you knew me way before- The loss of every ounce of love I sought. Before the space between spaces filled me, Before the scent of love was eternally forgot. See, every failed fairy tale- Robbed my love of its mass; Left my heart cold, unloving. Empty, like a sand less hourglass. Every shattered future- Taught me how not to love; To cherish only what's left over, Fading innocence; everything I have. Every end of a new beginning- Curved a beast out of my soul; A sweet, charming, beautiful beast. Opposite of what you think you know. I wish you knew me before- I could smile and say I love you- As I whisper praises to the next girl; Of last night, in bed, how she was beautiful. I wish you knew me before- I could hug and hold you tight- With the very warm arms that will- Passionately caress your friend at night. I wish you knew me before- I knew a forever that comes and goes; Before the bits of hurt and nurtured lusts; Before I my pain was of a like nobody knows. I wish you knew me before- The pieces of my broken heart- Spread through my thick, vast past. So I could love you, whole and not in part. I really wish you knew me before- My tears massed into this smiley mask- That stuck to my visage. Before being nice- Was merely my poker face, and not a willful task. But most importantly… I wish you will teach me- To love you with the void space where my heart was; To say I love you in silence; with every beat of our heart; To be one with you; to love with my rights and my flaws. Keep Smiling
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53
Other women Have never posed a threat to me. Maybe it's the spring in my step Or the way I wear my hair, But men can never get enough of me. The way I walk Has never been graceful But I have always tread on hearts With love at first And destruction second. Yes, it's true, Men can never get enough of me. The switch of a film reel, The spring in my step, I've never had trouble Finding a person Who lusts for me. With the wiseness of an elder And the recklessness of a droog, Men can never find their fill.
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Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
Jealousy
you created us, humans, one after the other trying to perfect the creation you defined as imperfect. you thought of this as a way to show us that your power holds no limitations. flawed species; and alone, we have created a civilization. we live to create a more damaged environment for us to die in.  and i was destructive. an emptiness so vast took hold of my being and no one i encountered could rid me of it. no one could make me feel. until i knew of her existence, or lack there of. and now every atom in my fragile body lusts over every cell her celestial figure withholds. i unconcsiously cannot stop wanting her, because my heart pumps desire into my system rather than blood and no ***** that makes me up can function without her.  i've always felt dead inside..i've always felt that my days were of no purpose, until i met her, and i could ask for no bigger purpose than to love her.  she awakened my soul; the soul that was burried so deep in that i misconceived dislocation with it's nonexistence. i never was interested in astronomy but i've always loved the idea of everything that exists beyond this earth. i speak of her beauty, and god, i can't help but compare her to the galaxies. i know the stars don't hear me, but that doesn't limit me. sometimes i wonder if they do because everytime her name rolls off my tounge, i can see them flicker. i think it's because they're in awe. they never saw someone feel so much for someone else before, and they never heard of someone as beautiful as her; not in centuries past and definitely not for centuries to come. her eyes hold universes within them and i want to study her instead. i'm fascinated with every detail there's to her. i never held interest in anyone before her and no one after her could measure up. she's everything everyone wants to be, but nothing anyone can be; because she's the perfect you were aiming for. isn't she? she taught my lungs how to breathe. "and i'm so glad i held onto my life long enough for her to be in it. -@whorefrost" and although the weight of this life is heavy on my chest, it's worth it. loving her is worth it. i've been asked to describe art, and every thought in my head screamed her name louder than the other wanting to be heard. but she's more than just art, she's reason.  she's my reason. i see her, and i believe. i believe in you.
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
talking to god about her.
you created us, humans, one after the other trying to perfect the creation you defined as imperfect. you thought of this as a way to show us that your power holds no limitations. flawed species; and alone, we have created a civilization. we live to create a more damaged environment for us to die in.  and i was destructive. an emptiness so vast took hold of my being and no one i encountered could rid me of it. no one could make me feel. until i knew of her existence, or lack there of. and now every atom in my fragile body lusts over every cell her celestial figure withholds. i unconcsiously cannot stop wanting her, because my heart pumps desire into my system rather than blood and no ***** that makes me up can function without her.  i've always felt dead inside..i've always felt that my days were of no purpose, until i met her, and i could ask for no bigger purpose than to love her.  she awakened my soul; the soul that was burried so deep in that i misconceived dislocation with it's nonexistence. i never was interested in astronomy but i've always loved the idea of everything that exists beyond this earth. i speak of her beauty, and god, i can't help but compare her to the galaxies. i know the stars don't hear me, but that doesn't limit me. sometimes i wonder if they do because everytime her name rolls off my tounge, i can see them flicker. i think it's because they're in awe. they never saw someone feel so much for someone else before, and they never heard of someone as beautiful as her; not in centuries past and definitely not for centuries to come. her eyes hold universes within them and i want to study her instead. i'm fascinated with every detail there's to her. i never held interest in anyone before her and no one after her could measure up. she's everything everyone wants to be, but nothing anyone can be; because she's the perfect you were aiming for. isn't she? she taught my lungs how to breathe. "and i'm so glad i held onto my life long enough for her to be in it. -@whorefrost" and although the weight of this life is heavy on my chest, it's worth it. loving her is worth it. i've been asked to describe art, and every thought in my head screamed her name louder than the other wanting to be heard. but she's more than just art, she's reason.  she's my reason. i see her, and i believe. i believe in you.
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12
What are we really looking to receive? Is it: Money, Fame, Success, or Promotion? Secret lusts of the heart create problems; are we willing to risk, His Salvation? Living to get things will never satisfy; without proper priorities and pursuits, righteousness, peace and joy isn’t obtained. Knowing your identity in Him, His fruit, mercy and grace becomes obviously evident. Seeking His face will insure that His hand   remains open towards those desiring Him. However, are we doing what He had planned? Are we delighting ourselves in Him alone? Are the goals of God, something we discuss? He always should be the King of our Life and the Kingdom that is… inside each of us. . . . Author Notes Inspired by: Rom 14:17; Psa 37:4,145:16 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ    By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
Poem: The Kingdom of God
Trust And tryst Don’t slit your wrist As he lies While you cry Increase your meds and you’ll be fine But trust Whilst he lusts After other ***** And he lies While you cry And give your heart and soul Simply trying To make him smile. But he’ll destroy you All the while.
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
You trust; He Lusts
I dared to love my brother’s wife And I am not in love alone. I took her while he was at war as I will take his throne. True, Hamlet smote the sledded ****** And gained Denmark a prize, But I have a poison that will freeze his blood- guaranteeing his demise. Gertrude, love, he left your bed so many years ago. Now the King lusts for younger flesh; Look- he eyes Ophelia so. Polonius sees and will declare And place me on the throne We’ll join our hands and fortunes Before your son gets home. My brother’s art is violence With which he overawes the world. I do my deeds in silence, Deadly schemes I thus unfurl. So, Gertrude, love, give me a kiss. Provide me with the key. That I, with poison, enter in and set both of us free. I dared to love my brother’s wife And I am not in love alone. I took her while he was at war as I will take his throne
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Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 6:30 PM UTC
Gertrude and Claudius
I regret ever feeling at all Maybe I should just stop-- Stop trying Stop feeling Just... stop. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe I should just end it Would anyone care? Would anyone notice? Maybe I should just stop. I regret ever feeling at all Harden my walls, forget my heart Decide that nothing, no one, is worth my pall I wish I didn't have to become numb to be okay, Just to make the pain go away. I regret ever feeling at all I want to be strong But, I should've known all along: I feel too deeply to be healthy, Especially when people are involved. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe I want to die Maybe just a line at my wrist (The X-Acto knife in my drawer would do the trick) But no, perhaps not (I am not a fan of pain) Bleeding out takes far too long I don't think I could take it, anyway. I regret ever feeling at all The voices in my head say I'm worthless No wonder everyone's gone I can't attract anyone, I'm too broken The deadness in my eyes belies a dormant predator Watch out, I'm a hidden monster I may catch you in my claws before a single word has been spoken Beware the darkness of a shattered heart, It will be far too sharp. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe this is for the best Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson And never have to trust again I'm blowing this out of proportion This is so much worse in my head But you said I should spend time with myself, love, No matter how many times I wish myself dead. I regret ever feeling at all I am so far out of my depth I don't know what to do, love I wish you could see this mess from my shoes. This constant nagging ache, I wish it'd go away. I regret ever feeling at all I want to hate you, To lose the pang in my stomach when you wear bruises on your neck Your trophies are the cause of my heartbreak Why can't you just stay away? I regret ever feeling at all I wish my friends could stand being around me But maybe they sense the monster within Who hungers jealously for that which she cannot have Who lusts for the flesh of one who does not love her Who, deep down, wants to hurt everyone who wrongs her. I regret ever feeling at all This darkness is so suffocating Why did I have to, for you of all people, fall? When you cannot feel the same When all I get from you is pain I love you, I hate you, I feel all of the above. I regret ever feeling at all This horrible, deadening cold It seeps through my limbs All I want is a hand to hold, Someone to chase the demons away, Someone who can love me as much as I love you, Someone who wants to save me from myself, As much as I do you. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe if I disappeared, you'd wonder what you did wrong Maybe you'd actually call Would you feel any of my regret? Would you feel the hurt you cause? I don't know that, love, I just know I regret ever feeling at all.
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Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
I Regret Ever Feeling At All
I regret ever feeling at all Maybe I should just stop-- Stop trying Stop feeling Just... stop. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe I should just end it Would anyone care? Would anyone notice? Maybe I should just stop. I regret ever feeling at all Harden my walls, forget my heart Decide that nothing, no one, is worth my pall I wish I didn't have to become numb to be okay, Just to make the pain go away. I regret ever feeling at all I want to be strong But, I should've known all along: I feel too deeply to be healthy, Especially when people are involved. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe I want to die Maybe just a line at my wrist (The X-Acto knife in my drawer would do the trick) But no, perhaps not (I am not a fan of pain) Bleeding out takes far too long I don't think I could take it, anyway. I regret ever feeling at all The voices in my head say I'm worthless No wonder everyone's gone I can't attract anyone, I'm too broken The deadness in my eyes belies a dormant predator Watch out, I'm a hidden monster I may catch you in my claws before a single word has been spoken Beware the darkness of a shattered heart, It will be far too sharp. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe this is for the best Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson And never have to trust again I'm blowing this out of proportion This is so much worse in my head But you said I should spend time with myself, love, No matter how many times I wish myself dead. I regret ever feeling at all I am so far out of my depth I don't know what to do, love I wish you could see this mess from my shoes. This constant nagging ache, I wish it'd go away. I regret ever feeling at all I want to hate you, To lose the pang in my stomach when you wear bruises on your neck Your trophies are the cause of my heartbreak Why can't you just stay away? I regret ever feeling at all I wish my friends could stand being around me But maybe they sense the monster within Who hungers jealously for that which she cannot have Who lusts for the flesh of one who does not love her Who, deep down, wants to hurt everyone who wrongs her. I regret ever feeling at all This darkness is so suffocating Why did I have to, for you of all people, fall? When you cannot feel the same When all I get from you is pain I love you, I hate you, I feel all of the above. I regret ever feeling at all This horrible, deadening cold It seeps through my limbs All I want is a hand to hold, Someone to chase the demons away, Someone who can love me as much as I love you, Someone who wants to save me from myself, As much as I do you. I regret ever feeling at all Maybe if I disappeared, you'd wonder what you did wrong Maybe you'd actually call Would you feel any of my regret? Would you feel the hurt you cause? I don't know that, love, I just know I regret ever feeling at all.
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81
Lust is a sin everyone will enjoy, from the bums in the courtyard, mingling and thrusting ***** privates, to the chaste; to you and me, and celibate, The celibate lust for self-recognition, for their gods, for a higher purpose, To strive is to lust and to lust, it is only human to lust for comfort, for control, for order. Goals of every sect are prized, Sought after are the lusts that guide us, that energize the batteries in our backs, tells us to do crazy things, some promote devastation.
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
LUST
The setting sun has a way of creeping up on you with cherry red coloured dreams nights as naughty as little gnomes flitting about in escapades of soft silk lusts. Once the night embraces you with its cloak of stars velvet summer laziness and tomorrows never there its time to take the fullness of today into the emptiness of tomorrow and slip into that twilight zone where all the magic materializes on why we love these special spring days. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
latenight