Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
making love with no love
(kissed her with his freedom)

<•>

a new person in an overnight stay in a strange,
aptly named,
bed and breakfast

and

you do all the same things that just feel good, careless loving
that comes from practiced renewable remembering,
kiss her neck for hours, drink in her crescendoing cooing

rename her Appalachia, bemused, wondering why,
she gasp-asks, when your tongue traces her odyssey body
from her Georgia to her Maine, then no need to explain

it all feels familiarly strange, imbalanced, shaky, loving the thrill
of your first solo bike ride, an invisible hand letting go,
the wow of walking the line of new freedom and
old responsibility that you have walked on both coasts

carry on, love is coming to us all lyric, enacted-recalled,
loving yet another
long cool woman in a black dress with unquestioning

how to explain to her, how to yourself, loving with no loving,
and the best you can stammer is it is like writing a poem
with too many commas or none at all

she laughs you up with one mouth lingering,
then one amazing kiss on your heart
and nose,
grabs a piece of toast and gone girl,
then you are returned to alone, to the dreams that
may or may not have occurred and two hands overflowing with
too many commas
and none to keep
<•>


11-18–17 2:54am, somewhere
“kissed her with his freedom”
Cactus Tree by J. Mitchell
11/18/17 2:54am
Umi Jan 2018
Making love isn't just about having ***
Its also nice to see how it effects (the relationship)
Its connecting two peoples souls, through the depeest of touch
When there's no stronger way to express your love with ****** intimacy and such
Sharing everything without a speck of bother
Making each other happy and pleasing each other
It can be nice and slow, tender, romantic and surely sweet
To be as close as humanly possible is such a nice treat
When lust burns to love which deepens through this
The soul does experience undescribable bliss
Please do love me until the night is over, come here, give me a kiss
Lets make love my dear,
On this first day of the year
I love you

~ Umi
Aaron LaLux Sep 2018
It’s always easy to say you love me,
when I’m naked,
I only have your undivided attention,
when you’re about to come,

what is it with lust,
and why do all mean act like predators,
walking around looking to stick it in,
while constantly trying to fight all competitors,

gross,
get your sick stick away from me,
I don’t want to fck I don’t want to ****,
I just want to make a way to get away from everything,

even though I know there’s no where I can go,
that will put me far enough away from men,
that I will feel comfortable enough,
to relax enough to meet a man and be his friend,

and I know that sounds a little extreme,
but so does being pinned by my wrists to a bed,
while I’m being stuck from the back my lust,
with a pillow pressed upon my head,

and you don’t even get it,
you think we’re making love,
and I try to explain this,
but you don’t give a fck,

because you don’t make love,
you make lust,
so I’m going to get ghost as soon as I can,
no love lost because all we did was fck,

it’s always easy to say you love me,
when I’m naked,
I only have your undivided attention,
when you’re about to come…

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆
I did dream of you before first light of day
that together we laid
arm in arm holding each other close
spent from our love making

We watched from under covers
watched the sun call morning
and upon the table by the window
red roses did appear

Making love to you
is all I ever want to do
to be your love forever
on pillows of feathers

Hoping this dream comes to fruition
wanting you as my sweet commission
for the beauty I see in you is unique
you would make my life complete  

Summer rains do fall
as I think of you
then suddenly I wake
knowing my soul you do take


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
clever Apr 12
i've got a lot to tell you
about how maybe
our story wasn't made to be told.
tired and depressed
lost and abandoned
no love
no hope
until one day i stumbled on a drink that made me feel alive
don't let the name depressant fool you
it slows my reactions the thoughts
the voices that tell me i'm worthless
alcohol was the solution i have been searching for
even better it was always there
always there.... and if i drink a little more the high lasts a little longer
i was all alone and hurt
until alcohol came and clouded everything
it was the escape i needed
and that is how i was made an alcoholic
i'm reading a psychology book.... i don't drink.
ashley mckee Aug 2018
I’ve waited all my life to find
that someone who could stand my pride
my stubbornness, my independent ways
that aren’t exactly patient

I found you

in the driver’s seat of a beat-up jeep
and down the pier with both bare feet
your smile was enough to turn
my fondness into something worse

I knew you

you could take my hand and hold me tight
and I‘d walk with you through the night
no words were needed to describe
the way I felt by your side

I loved you
SG Rose May 2014
Strike me as you would a match,
against the surfaces of your skin.
Not once, but many times
Until we catch fire.
Open up yourself entirely. Let your dreams shape a new you,
let them give you the perfect skin, rosemary thoughts, youthful words and a dusty rose colored lace bow to set off your coffee-stained smile.

There are no unwanted dreams here to beat your soul with,
only the wet ones swimming inside of you, chasing after storms to stay full off of. Tell me, have you ever been hugged by a dream?
Dreams have arms wide enough to fit around the sun.

See, when the earth goes mad you must build a shrine for your dreams, and let it not make sense, play with its magic, and let it show you the things you never imagine, like the sun swimming inside of a rose.

Dreams are a drug we can’t put down, a wonderful habit, an art form of bigger things to help us come. Dreams wait for you every night in a bed of too many I love you's. See our minds are a gateway to heaven and dreams are the Angels that protect it.
madameber Jul 13
i have lain here
for nights on end
trying to make sense of the stars

mama never did teach
me how to read
the patterns in the skies,
what reason did i have
to look up
when the fairy lights
we hung
were so pretty
if i wanted constellations
i could take a pen
and map out the spots
on my skin

mama never did teach
me how to dream,
what need could there be
when hers were already
big enough for
the both of us
to share
i could look up
and count the stars
in her night skies
and never worry about
my own

mama never did teach
me how to walk
tall, keep my back up
straight, with her chin
raised high she
looked right past
my crooked posture
and in to
her future,
i stood straight
in her visions,
it was all she needed
to see

i think she tried
i think she gave it
her best
i think she gave her
self better
and i’m still trying to make
sense of the stars
unsure of whose they are
anymore
Poetoftheway Apr 2018
so someone remarks and thus a poem commissioned...

a better world, a wish no one can turn a back to...
a literacy of mine own, a bridge too far...
but such a lie too glorious to ignore...
blessed be the wisher for he gave this day
water and wine to a lapsed Jew who reincarnates
the containership of body and soul from the Star of David,
burr etched upon his chest, and embraces lost tourists
who unfated unfazed stumble
upon the guide dog of his verbal chicanery and funny bone,
smiling for as long as it takes to cross that last bridge,
nearer our god, you than me..
for Elea
ken not the
vive la différence!
entre les deux,
these two bed and head chambers,
for all poets are seducers,
regardless of ***, race, creed or color

when first we employ our working, yeoman vocabulary,
we plain start,
to relate but not to regale,
the whom we are,
hoping our moments unique,
will  breach the boundaries
of our collective commonality connectivity,
and find human receptivity

thus, the seduction of self commences

though every possible combination of words has somewhere been inscribed and committed, we ****** ourselves
(the seduction of poetry)
with potions of notions that we are and always be our
first, and now soon forever,
yours as well

of course, we are, it's true,
our very own first admirer & lover,
having conquered the hillock of self,
see the universe expanding and the
****** need to conceive
and prowess to please
beyond the beyond with
the poetry of seduction

do not want your body, heart or soul,
commitment, allegiance, vows,
sacred or profane,
all such in vain

crave your everything,
not even a legal nine-tenths satisfactory

dare not call me arrogant or presumptive,
gaze upon the mirror that cannot lie,
rereading thy words assemblage,
and deny to lie to yourself

want you, you want me,
my adoration,
we want to be in
a poem together,
lovers at the molecular level
where words dissected into letters, then again,
into guttural sounds where a simple outcry is an elegy,
a love poem, a wound, a denouement, a preface, a tear,
a welling, a heaving, a sigh, an exhalation, all,
an entrance to where the need for words
is long since past

the sin and crown of seduction completed,
unanimously

now breathe out
and then,
breathe in
Alexander Mar 11
Your smile makes it hard not to tell you your beautiful.
Your eyes have made it hard not to tell you your mesmerizing.
Your voice makes it hard not to tell you your calming.
Your actions make it hard not to like you.
You're really making it hard.
For me not to like you so much.
KiraLili Apr 2016
Legs
As long as
The whole glass
All the way down
To the stem
9 ounces of
Red warm tannins
It embodies
The whole mouth
With every sip
Like velvet
To the tongue
There's no
Wrong way
To love a Merlot
Unless
You spill it...
Savouring a glass on the first warm night of spring
TheScarfIsPurple Jul 2018
I know I chose this
This cage
This maze

This prizon
This haze

                                    In this exile
                                I am safe

                    feeling fragile
                             but still my mind's
                
                                               ­     slave
I did this to myself.
Matt Shaw Aug 2016
it's called the reason Austin blocked me
it's stupid and easy and easy going forfeit
like you
so **** blue, hopeless, pale skin
caught in the universe

you picked up on that

i just never did
i just exploded like crescents in a can
i just bled out or vomited my hopes and dreams
on the coffee table of the universe
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
What do they mean, this actor-as-if and the never-did, or says-he -never-did, sacrifice or sacred be made?
Primal, on to logic, come reason.

The artifice of sacrifice,
whatever necessitated making sacred a thought?
a sign for a time when words fail,
if words were to fail again,
in confusion after war,
this sign says

trust. Yes, such a sign. By this know us,
fret not, good news... not here...
secret. Sh.

Suffice to say sacrifice means more and less than most
Jordan Peterson /Sam Harris fans would act as if they believe

but, to live as if
be live
me
that's new at every opportunity, pay real close attention,

a safe zone, far from that same madding crowd…
(occluded allusion,
The Classic Far From The Madding Crowd Movie)
I see that crazy dog herd the sheep over the cliff, and I cringe

I cringed then, in the dark.
I was holding your hand but I've forgotten your name,
thanks for dropping by.
Tell Sis hi.

still
be live in the home
a safe zone, far from any madding crowd…

clouds are aloud
contrast to the blues and greens and puples and yes
keepemkeepemkeepem AI wantemferwampum

yeah, this part is
wat do you say? crazy weird need you add **** crazyshit weird ****

if you were a platypus, just cruisin' playin' hunt with hi-tech
magneto-electro-gravitonal sensors, in a pre release, like alpha
version of the proteins involved

And you find your way back to where you once belonged
blocked by a thing named a weir,
it 'lows water through, but not you.

What do you do?
the mud settles you, scout around,
an unhearable sound
an unfeelable touch,

a final beacon, repeating the final news from platypus you,
it worked. dis encorporation all gone rhythm engaged.
Est. system reliable against all obstacles: .166 billion years
by the measure of the man, who was the angel
rolling the rock back up the hill.
Everyday pages from my emerging myth of Sisyphus is making me happier. Harvest time helps too.
Saint Audrey Jul 2018
Tipping point reached, one final breath
Let the waves of inertia crash, contaminate

....

Alone in complexity, machinery, and everything
Perfectly formed human being
Slowly turning sour by the minute

Stale air, only growing in its bitter taste as
Seconds that feel like hours, add to feel like years
All the plans i made
All the plans i planned to make
Gone, but not forgotten

But then they were gone
Truer statement never read then
What i read on the back of the final bit found
Within my reach
Filtered through a layer of sediment
settled over my vision
Sanitized as life had been

But my shelter having been breached
To seep much longer...

Too accustomed, but it doesn't help

Found lacking in the company I had hoped to keep

A poor atonement, sinking further

Or, it kept rising

I was nearly covered.

.....

They stepped a little closer
And left appalled by what they found
Rotting in the dark, silently

Defensive at the outset, shaking at the sound
Sounding incomplete

Face down this
Eventual ending
For me
Next page