"masochism" poems
In the smoke and haze
I could lie for days
Bound by dreams
Of vivacious scenes
A matriarchal mistress
From Sacher-Madoche novella
Gleaming eyes; a cruel smile
Courtesy could not last for a mile
Spank and strike,
Dearest love and goddess
Do not shirk from such duty
****** and tantalising
Bask in decadent moonlight
By the wisp of cold wind
Cure your sadism
And sate your masochism
Within piquant smell of leather
Find your balance
Between lust and love
Dealt with swift blows so keen and easy
All whilst recounting your ****** burden
Unto lovely Aphrodite
She is taken with vile passion
And laden with fur and velvet
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 3:51 AM UTC
Maybe I found a cure for the happiness
Then: let's start from some love,
Add wholesome masochism,
A few memories
And finally a lot of sincerity.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Call yourself a friend of mine,
Forcing me to “neck” beer and wine?
Lovingly mixed with ***** and gin,
And dash of ketchup added in,
Wasabi for that extra kick -
The whole thing just makes me sick!
It’s not fun or cool or clever,
But a study in peer pressure,
Present in the world we live in,
Where for a guy or girl to “give in”,
Is expected for their reputation.
But what kind of expectation,
Is encouraged sado-masochism?
A concept likely to cause a schism,
For those who didn’t use their head,
And unsurprisingly now are dead.
I am sure as you will surely see,
And the poet Dylan would agree,
That as long as you ignore
The deaths of one, two three and four
How many, many, many more,
Are needed til we scream and cry?
“We caused too many youths to die!”
And for what cause? Acceptance.
Whose loss is needed for our repentance?
It’s all well acting free and wild,
But each of us is someone’s child -
Whose loss would surely cause sadness,
Hurt and pain and grief and madness?
And stomaching death is much harder
Than soap or dirt or grease or lard or
Whatever miscellaneous things
This activity inevitably brings.
Just saying “no” might make you quiver
But trust me; it’s better for your liver -
And living x years sans hurt or maim
Is worth > than 15 minutes of fame.
So do the maths before you do it -
Or else I bet you’ll likely rue it!
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
I fall to my knees,
Kneeling before you,
My Master,
Groveling at your glorious feet,
To reveal the chains of submission,
Weighing down my delicate form.
You gaze upon me,
Beholding soft skin shimmering,
As my body is folded over;
Viewing my tantalizing beauty,
As I bestow myself,
To fulfill your deepest desires,
Conjuring the darkest yearnings,
Manifesting within.
“Rise, Baby Girl’’,
Your deep voice commands,
Reverberating within this crimson colored chamber,
As your figure towers over me,
Beckoning my legs to stand,
Obliging to please you,
As my hazel eyes encounter,
The blazing intensity of your own,
Sending flames to burn,
Down to the small of my back.
Fear is the armor I allow to fall,
Tumbling to the ground,
Cloaking myself in trust,
As I allow my body to be,
Touched by dominant hands,
Trussed up by ropes and chains,
To restrain to me.
Willingly becoming prey,
To the sweet, antagonizing caress,
Before your hand aggressively strikes,
My behind,
Sending me into a realm,
Of pleasure and pain,
Morphing into one sensation.
Free is the response I experience,
As you bounds my wrists,
With your tie,
Pinning me down,
Straddling my body.
Placed between your thighs,
With your heated lips,
Conquering every inch of my body.
The Sting of the flogger,
Is a bite against the skin I crave,
As silence is the language,
I choose to speak,
Feeling your fingertips claim me,
As your territory to reign over,
As you please.
I yearn to satisfy the hunger,
Starving to be your nourishment;
For Sadism to feed,
Upon masochism,
As a balance of power is established,
As we lose ourselves in fiery passion.
Dominance and Submission,
Forces meant to bond to the other,
In a marriage of infliction and reception,
Of blissful agony,
Accepting the temptations you direct,
Towards me as guide,
To obtain our darkest of fantasies.
Submission speaks out within,
The silence as I give you,
A proffered hand,
Succumbing to the sensual dreams,
You promise to me,
Allowing you to possess me in any way,
You wish in accordance to our terms.
May you indulge upon my form,
Like decadent candy you crave,
To devour,
Savoring every taste,
Sound, smell, and touch,
In this licentious dance between you,
My Master,
And me, your fervent lady,
Of submission.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
I like people who hurt me.
I promise I don't enjoy the pain they put me through
But in some masochistic way,
I like people that hurt me.
It's easier that way.
Loving someone who you know will put you through torment
whose true colors already show,
than to trust the innocent flower unaware of the snake that hides beneath it.
I can't be caught surprised,
can't say I didn't see it coming
So I love people who hurt me
Mar 8, 2023
Mar 8, 2023 at 9:06 AM UTC
To die is an art
How your heart stops beating
How your organs stop working,
You disappear.
To die,
Many people wish they were dead,
Yet they do nothing about it.
I believe dying is a beautiful art.
I, I wish I were dead, yet I don't do a thing about it,
Just committing masochism,
What should I do?
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC
Masochism is my favorite way to love; I adore deeply the one that is eager to leave me in the dust for his superficial passions. I cry infinitely as the rain over the Pacific, but it does not storm. It only blinds me with stinging tears that make a shore invisible. I had you wrapped around my finger, and you slipped off like an oversized ring, falling between the spaces of a gutter to travel sewers of risk; rank with the smell of doubt and returning loneliness. I travel these sewers barefoot with your risks up to my ankles, searching for you, my ring, dress hiked up to run as if you hadn't already seen such exposed leg. But only I splash. My lover is elusive. When he trembles in anger, he comes to me; when I tremble, he only flees. He does not understand his debts. I do, only I don't wish that he pay. My kindness is self-mutulation, for I know he will not appreciate my generosity. I think of him while he daydreams of riches and soaks in his wanderlust. I am simply a piece, a fragment, a speck of dust swimming among many in a ray of sunlight. I am not something he truly wishes to strive for. This murders me, and smashes my already broken heart into smaller, sharper pieces that seem harmless, but develop greater capacity to cut flesh.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
I know that you know
The pain you're so addicted to
Is not truly an addiction
To being hurt
To being made worthless
To feeling inadequate
It's an addiction to
Consistency
To feeling routine
But I know that you know
It's unhealthy
It's harmful
It's cruel
It's mean
Go find love elsewhere
Somewhere with respect
Somewhere with happiness
Somewhere without pain
I know that you know
It will not be easy
But I also know that you know
You need to do it
Because once upon a time
I was just like you
Addicted to the consistency
Of the abuse
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Composed of the opposition,
I am too afraid of the meanings
within the reasoning and
extremities of polar ends.
Ex.
steadfast vs. capricious
sincere vs. contrived
sadism vs. masochism
expansive vs. nonexistent
(circle one)
Frankly, between my want to know every
cloud-breaking peak and sunless crevice of my animal, me,
on this circular search for a emotional enlightenment,
I am exhausted, from the in-between.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
potion lost by unknown souls
effervescent masturbatory master debater
creationism is masochism told from the horses ***
past blast take my soul
make me whole and complete
separation anxiety is ***** envy
memories of mental memos crash past rushing fools
used and abused on cruise control
I misjudged your guided thistle
because missiles are meant for drones not home-oh
listen to the seedless man cry for his dead *****
tediously miserable always unforgiven
what lies hidden within the door
could be a deserted desert dessert
like an after dinner breath mint
or a succinct lunatic on the brink of such destruction
may be distraction fight or flight action reaction
marilyn charles though more bronson than you
Aren’t thou marked for death
broken gasp choked sob
undergod slaughtered in an abandoned euthanasia clinic
euphimistic innuendo more like in your endo
indoor marijuana smoke makes the colors run
my american flag has flown and fled
please jesus save our country bumpkins
napkins go in the lap not as hat
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
I carved a line into my skin tonight
Crimson descends down my leg
This isn't masochism
Because I don't feel pain
I feel relief
I breathe again
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
There sits a man
With a wooden leg and a thousand wrinkles
Smoke around his blue sailors cap
Smoke shrouding all but his eyes in a mysterious sense of pain
The smoke fades from a gentle grey to a dark midnight black
Now there are only the eyes
The purple eyes sticking out of a shroud of black smoke as if they were the beacon to heaven
The eyes stare into the distance
Suddenly a part of the black smoke curls into itself and explodes in a rush of air and stale old smoke
Now there are two dots of lucios purple smoke
They float towards me and stay there
With a strange glint in them they look towards the black smoke
I say look for that is what they were doing
The blavk smoke starts moving inwards
As if there were a great source of power summoning theme
The speed increases and I feel extreme fear and power
I blink
And right there sits the man
With a wooden leg and a thousand wrinkles
With a blue sailors cap
But now his wrinkles are different
They are black
Like the smoke that moments ago was around him
That smoke was now in him
His skin was normal
Soft as a baby but his wrinkles were black
The two purples eyes that float before me seem to beckon towards the wrinkle in the mans brow
I walk forward and I look into the wrinkle
The eyes float behind my head now
Suddenly a force pushes me into the wrinkle
I fall in the vast abyss that is this wrinkle
And I feel it all
Pain
Fear
Love
Death
Hatred
Apprehension
Lust
Sadism
Masochism
But above all guilt
The horrible darkness pushes the guilt into my soul and crushes me
What did this man do that is hidden by his wrinkle did he....
There sits a man
With a wooden leg and a thousand wrinkles
And a blue sailors cap
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
More addictive than heroine
I've tried them both
Something to marvel in
Created from loath
Can't imagine the pleasure
Can't imagine the fun
Till you've tried to measure
The pain of a gun
How long are the scars?
How deep do they go?
More numerous than stars
And you'll never know
What is your poison?
What is your drug?
Mine is a razor
I watched as it dug
And none must ever know
So never let it show
I am a *********
How long can I last like this?
The most degrading of sins?
Such terrible disgust?
Or the filthiest of wins?
My only true lust
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
I said darjeeling and masochism,
you said
that sounds like a nice day
Chalkboard
Blindfold
Ripped Jeans
take
off
your
glasses
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
I'm into masochism
Yes masochism because I get enjoyment from my pain
My pain that bleeds with emense rage through my passion for you
Making me see through what I believe is real so I push through it
Remove it with what is seen as invisible walls constantly drawin me into you
Yup ladies and gents I'm into masochism
I'm willing to subject myself to this type of torture because I believe there is something on this horizon that will make me buy into what is in the crystal ball
Fortune telling
"Fortunate to have you boy I'm so glad your in my world...rest assure as the sky gets blue blessed the day..."
That I found you
You glowed as a bold man so I couldn't stand to not say anything
So I said LET FREEDOM RING
Marched right over with words so convincing
Martin said " I HAVE A DREAM!"
Dreams of you
But it's a constant battle tryna break through
So the untold vulnerabilities continue to be unsaid
Laying in a bed of unspoken words that I know are there cuz I see them in your eyes every time I look at you
So yes people of this blessed universe I announce I'm into masochism
I guess you can call me a *********
One that inflicts conscience pain that moves along my spine moving to my nervous system that moved throughout my body so I feel you all over
So it's not over...
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
I’m a ********* for love,
I couldn’t give you up
Sweeter dreams of yesterday
Are a lust that’s gone today
I’m a ********* for love
I gave my all not to give you up
Writing rhymes of wondrous romance
Trapped in feelings like a trance
I’m a ********* for love
Take the beating, give a hug
It’s only masochism when not returned
And believe me, girl, I’ll take the burn
A body that is bruised
Can indefinitely still be whole
What matters the most
Is the condition of your soul
Purity and peace
Hopefulness on bending knees
All these things you don’t possess
That you still never took from me.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 5:04 PM UTC
At the patio i sat
gazing at the blazing blackness
of inevitable strokes of
a glorified paint brush!
Entangled by the utmost masochism
my muscles rustled with ignorance
as the sky rumbled like a **** ghost
trying to tune the infernal chaos
that got demoralized and dehumanized
in the silence of darkness
that devastated the darkness of silence!
Steams of intolerable poignancy
curled around
like ignited demons
trying to tantalize my fears!
Trying to materialize the scene
the storm flashed in rage
ravishing the darkness
dazzled the impatience of night
as it rained in my heart
whose fragrance
lured my innocence.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 4:01 AM UTC
Look at this terrible and beautiful
monster we've made
and look at the name we've given it.
Look daddy, at all the blood
daddy can you see it
See the blood
and all the broken flowers
Daddy can we keep it?
Can it be our pet?
Please daddy, it will stay in my room
and you won't even know its there
and if you want to you can name it
It really is quite friendly
Look it lets me stroke it
Daddy please i know you have one too
you can't hide it from me
I've seen it
and sometimes i steal it, and
it sleeps in my room
and now i just want one of my one
daddy please don't hurt it
no daddy please
all I want is to keep it
i feed it and it only bites me a little
I will just hide it under my bed if you say no
its mine now
Look
I kept it all this time.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
Son, do you know why I pulled you over
Because I noticed that your lungs collapsed
And you were choking begging pleading for
one single breath
So enjoy the air while you got it...
Go ahead take a moment
For a good deep breath
Feel that clean country air just tickling your insides
Son, do you know why I pulled you outta class?
Cause your bein a *****
Every time we try to bring up a good topic
you start crying
****** ************ mutation, abortion, cloning, ****** violence, masochism
Stop bein a ***** boy, everybodies daddy gets drunk and beats them at night
Son, you know why I'm not letting into heaven?
Because you are a pretentious selfish ****
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
*adverts and the internet medium:
d'uh... you forgot the capacity
of the mute button...
wha'? wha'?
audi tt?
(let's expand on the title:
geometry (Y) the three dimensions,
and trigonometry (W)... cosine rule,
i.e. how three-dimensional space behaves).*
i was born in the late 20th century,
and, right now,
i'm seeing the "problem"
you thought jews in europe
were the problem...
ever read anything
on the subject of kabbalah?
i can only reply
with sepultura's:
ra-ta-ma'h-hatta'h...
**** me, the tetragrammaton feels like
licking a pharaoh's toes in linguistic terms...
*and there are always four,
to ensure there's one*.
but at least the aztec pyramids
were not burial grounds, or burial monuments,
rather, sites of capital punishment...
which the conquistadors misunderstood!
only the whites know the concept
of ethno-masochism.
by common-tongue standards
so thoroughly expressed with
the desired eloquence, stated, already.
social sciences are a disease
in terms of science per se...
why isn't there a divine intervention
story with regards to the aztec pyramids?
**** me and the scaffold!
the largest bird on earth,
and instead of flying off,
it sticks its head into the earth
to "hide".
that's pushing it...
that's saying the non-existence of god is based
upon the non-existence of a good joke;
i just don't think he needs to be
revered...
but obviously people have other
plans...
never mind the comedian...
mind the moloch;
so they pray, and pray, and ask, and plead,
and end up looking like amassed lunatics...
they demand praying...
me? i demand of myself thinking about him...
hard to think about nothing,
if i were thinking about nothing,
i simply would be, not thinking;
and you'd probably find me:
painting.
but **** me, aztec pyramids didn't receive
a divine intervention
but the egyptian pyramids did...
clearly the aztec pyramids weren't vanity projects
akin to burial sites / tombs...
clearly...
sites of enforcing capital punishment;
years later mis-translated by conquistadors...
and in militant atheistic form...
said: retarted.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
I keep on asking myself
Why do I write all of these poems
All about you,
Even if they started off differently
Why do I keep on loving you so much
After all this harm?
Is this even good?
I mean, it's a beautiful way of masochism
But I love it, of course I do,
I love you,
It's masochism
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Tear out my eyes
repainting them shades of purple puke
and send me off back to work
Snip the curious child
from my gut
and paint the walls pink with his feet
pour drano into my ears
so that i may not have to think anymore
lobotomize my fingernail biting fetishes
till i only get hard-on's from my skull
dragging its skin across the pavement
you pitiful excuse for a poet
you hope to dazzle them with dayglo frosting
caked like mold in the corners of your mouth
you sick hopeless perfectionist
knitting cellophane walls
of hands slapping your face
so you can close your eyes
and lose yourself in the confines
of your stalagmites
you with your cut and paste philosophies
which leave gaping holes
stretching across everybody's pupils
huh?
exactly you ******* pustule of plastic bubbles
you are an empty bud
no flower could rise from soil as rank as yours
no love will ever find comfort in a heart as prickly as yours
i can only be ashamed
that i share your body
i'm better off getting aborted
next time you sneeze
so that i could infect another's fragile flesh
passing our sick parasite
at least something of yours will be left
for others to cherish
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 12:11 PM UTC